White terraces and ancient ruins: morning explorations in Pamukkale

I woke up early this morning, drawn to the window by the clear light filtering through the curtains. The rain from yesterday had cleared overnight, leaving a crisp, sunny morning in its place. My hotel balcony offered a perfect view of the white calcium terraces glowing in the morning sun – quite the contrast from yesterday's gray, rainy introduction to Pamukkale.

After a quick breakfast at the hotel (decent Turkish coffee, though not quite strong enough for my taste), I decided to make the most of this weather window. The forecast mentioned possible afternoon showers, so I headed out at 8:20 for the terraces that open at 8:30. As expected, I arrived with time to spare, joining just a handful of other early visitors waiting at the entrance.

The terraces of Pamukkale are even more striking up close than they appear from a distance. These natural formations – travertines, as they're properly called – cascade down the hillside like frozen waterfalls. The calcium-rich water flows from thermal springs, depositing minerals as it travels, gradually building these spectacular white shelves over thousands of years.

I removed my shoes as required (quite cold on the feet at 5°C!) and walked carefully along the permitted paths. The water pooled in the basins was surprisingly warm against the cool morning air, creating wisps of steam that drifted across the white landscape. The contrast between the brilliant white calcium and the clear blue sky made for some stunning photographs, though I couldn't help but think how much more dramatic they'd look at sunset.

What struck me most was the gradual nature of this geological marvel. Each tiny mineral deposit, imperceptible on its own, eventually contributes to something magnificent when given enough time. There's something profoundly reassuring about that process – how small, consistent actions accumulate into visible change.

After exploring the terraces for about an hour, I made my way up to the ancient city of Hierapolis. While most visitors come for the white terraces, this sprawling archaeological site is equally impressive. Founded around 190 BCE, the city grew around the natural hot springs, becoming a healing center where people came to treat various ailments.

I spent the rest of the morning exploring the extensive ruins, particularly impressed by the remarkably preserved theater that could once seat 12,000 spectators. Built in the 2nd century CE under Roman rule, it offers spectacular views across the entire site and the valley beyond. I sat on the ancient stone seats for a while, imagining the performances that once took place here, the audiences that gathered, the daily lives unfolding in this now-silent place.

The Hierapolis Archaeological Museum was my next stop, housed in what was once the Roman baths. The collection includes sarcophagi, statues, and various artifacts that help bring the ancient city to life. I was particularly drawn to the statues that still show traces of their original paint – a reminder that the pristine white marble we associate with antiquity was once vibrantly colored.

It's now just after 11:00, and I'm taking a short break at a café near the museum, planning the rest of my day. The temperature has risen to a more comfortable 7°C according to my phone, though the wind makes it feel cooler. I'm debating whether to visit Cleopatra's Pool this afternoon – a thermal pool where you can swim among submerged ancient columns – or save it for tomorrow. The entrance fee is quite steep (reasonable by Norwegian standards, but still), so I want to make sure I have enough time to properly enjoy it.

With just two days left before my scheduled departure to Antalya, I'm feeling the familiar pressure to see everything while also wanting to slow down and simply absorb the atmosphere of this unique place. The bus is booked for Saturday morning, so I need to make these remaining hours count.

For now, I think I'll finish my tea and head back to the terraces for some more exploration. The light changes throughout the day, creating different effects on the white calcium surfaces, and I want to capture as many of these transformations as possible before I leave.

Day 184 of 500. The journey continues to unfold, one step at a time – not unlike these terraces, formed drop by drop over millennia.