First impressions of Pamukkale: a rainy morning revelation

The rain taps gently against my hotel window as I sit with my second cup of coffee, watching the white terraces of Pamukkale in the distance. It's 10:50 in the morning, and I've been up since 6:30, unable to sleep from the anticipation of finally seeing this natural wonder up close.

I arrived late last night after a surprisingly comfortable bus ride from Selçuk. The journey through the Turkish countryside was mesmerizing - rolling hills transitioning to more mountainous terrain as we approached Denizli province. My hotel is simple but clean, with a balcony that offers a distant view of the white calcium terraces that make this place famous.

This morning, I woke before sunrise, made coffee with my travel kit (the hotel provides a kettle, thankfully), and watched the sky lighten over the landscape. The terraces gradually emerged from the darkness, first gray, then brilliant white even under today's cloudy skies.

Breakfast was served at 7:30 - a typical Turkish spread of bread, cheese, olives, tomatoes, cucumber, and eggs. I chatted briefly with the hotel owner, who suggested I wait until afternoon to visit the terraces if the rain clears up. "The white looks more beautiful in sunshine," he explained, "but there will be fewer people in this weather."

Undeterred by the drizzle, I ventured out around 9:00 for a preliminary exploration of the town. Pamukkale village is small, with just a few streets of shops, restaurants, and hotels catering to visitors. Everything seems oriented toward the natural wonder that brought me here.

I found a small café where I could sit under an awning and watch the rain while studying my map. The temperature is just 6°C, which feels especially cold after the relative warmth of Ephesus. I'm wearing layers today - thermal undershirt, long-sleeve shirt, sweater, and rain jacket. My pants are already damp at the ankles from walking through puddles.

The café owner brought me a small glass of çay without me ordering, a gesture of hospitality I've come to appreciate throughout Turkey. "Not many tourists today," he said with a shrug. I'm learning that February is definitely low season here, which suits me perfectly.

I've made a tentative plan for my stay:

• Today: Visit the travertine terraces in the afternoon if the rain clears
• Tomorrow: Explore the ancient city of Hierapolis and the Archaeological Museum
• Friday: Swim in Cleopatra's Pool (if warm enough) and photograph sunset on the terraces

I'm now back at the hotel, watching the rain pattern against the window and contemplating the day ahead. The forecast shows the rain might ease up after noon, which would be perfect timing. I've reached the midpoint of my journey - day 183 of 500 - and find myself increasingly reflective about how time passes.

There's something fitting about being in Pamukkale at this juncture. These terraces have been forming for thousands of years, built gradually by mineral-rich water flowing down the mountainside. The calcium deposits accumulate at an imperceptible rate - yet over time, they've created something magnificent. Perhaps personal growth works the same way.

I've been traveling for exactly half a year now. The changes in myself are subtle, like those calcium deposits. But I hope that by journey's end, they'll have formed something meaningful and lasting.

The rain is letting up slightly. I think I'll venture out again soon, regardless of the weather. Sometimes the most memorable experiences come when conditions aren't perfect. And after all, I only have 317 days left - I don't want to waste a single one waiting for perfect weather.

!White travertine terraces under rainy skies The white terraces of Pamukkale appear almost ghostly through the morning drizzle