If the U.S. government needs to fake a Tatooine landing, this would be the place to do it.
The region of Cappadocia lies on a high volcanic plateau, punctuated by twisted rock formations that are somehow grotesque and magnificent at the same time. For millennia, the inhabitants of this otherworldly landscape have eked out a life by carving cave dwellings into the heart of the giant stone guardians that tower over their lands.
These days, those humble dwellings have been converted into eco-friendly boutique hotels. Nothing saves on air conditioning like living in a nice, cool cave. Based on the wholly uncivilized behavior going down, some of the inhabitants have barely evolved past the caveman era.
So where do you live? Uhm, the third dildo on the left, just past the bazaar.
Tough language this Turkish, should I use some precious roaming megabytes to fire up Google Translate?
One of the local peculiarities, in addition to living inside giant stone phalluses, is their pottery kebabs. Instead of grilling the meat they seal everything inside a ceramic pot, chuck in on the fire, and then when it's time to eat the pot is busted open with a hammer to unleash the succulent stew inside.
There's few places in the world where a hammer comes standard as part of you cutlery.
Probably the most unique main street in the world. That's a big, err, landmark you've got there. No risk of confusing this town with Smallville.
The Göreme Open Air Museum is a collection of some of the finest real estate on the whole plateau. Highlights include ample natural ventilation, hand-chiseled windows, and countertops of the finest local sandstone.
An afternoon rain shower adds to the eerie atmosphere. In the murk the ghosts of cave dwellers past lurk at the edge of the shadows, a collective consciousness not yet content to return to the dust.
A built-in banquet table, now that's got to boost market value. Even better, there's a Chinese tourist bus arriving. Someone slap up an 888 address and it's a done deal.
The Dark Church is the highlight of the entire museum complex. A hidden place of solitude buried deep in the bosom of the mountain, the pews and alter carved out of inscrutable stone. It was almost poetic, until that Wuhan Coach Lines bus showed up.
Any idea which one is the bar? Nothing gets the party started like a pint of Troglodyte IPA.
Looks suspiciously like a hobbit hole. Didn't New Zealand trademark Middle Earth?
The valleys surrounding the museum are crisscrossed with hiking trails that weave their way among the twisted rock formations and natural arches. There's no map and no cellphone reception. What could possibly go wrong?
The moment Mei learns that ass and ass are homonyms. The moment we all realized English is an illogical language came a long time ago.
Hey, it saves us going to Ikea and buying another weirdly-named picture frame.
My what a desolate place this is. The good news is when we get lost we'll be able to flag down a Jawa sandcrawler.
Those pesky Tusken Raiders are always stirring up trouble. Does anyone remember the krayt dragon call?
The Thinker. Out here in the wilderness the solitude lends itself to deep thought: lamb, beef, or the mixed grill?
You know what they say: when the going gets tough, give up and call Aunt Beru's landspeeder.
Meet me at the corner of Viagra Street and Cialis Avenue.
A good place to schedule the next sausage fest. How do you measure up boys?
A petrified Wave. Look closely and scrape away the dust and you might just find a Google logo, circa 2009.
This guy could sell his ice cold fresh orange juice for a hundred bucks a cup and people would still buy. When you've got the entire market cornered and the temperatures are skyrocketing, that's... when you send your CV to Enron.
High on the jagged cliffs above the desolate valley, cave churches offer a welcome respite from the noonday heat. A sanctuary for the weary traveler looking for shade and guidance. Unfortunately, it appears He's outsourced the guidance business to Google maps today, which is a bit problematic seeing as there's no cellphone reception out here.
To cut a long story - and a longer walk - short, in the end Rock's superior wilderness craft leads the party to a deserted dirt road that eventually leads back to civilization. Some pundits have labeled it a lucky guess, but those same critics will be saying the same thing when he wins the Powerball. Don't confuse luck with skill folks.
Kebabs always taste better when you've just returned from a wilderness exile.
Hit the sack early folks, the alarm is set for 4am. Sleep in? What do you think this is, a vacation or something? Surely the eight hour enforced march through the Valley of the Shadow of Death gave you a clue?
There are few good reasons in life to get up at 4am. This is one of them.
The silence of the cool desert air is suddenly shattered by the roar of superheated propane. Stand by for one of the all time highlights in a decade of travel blogging.
Save a gas bottle and throw in a couple of J00ster posts. There's enough hot air at that URL to power the whole fleet.
Set course for the Tatooine system! Apparently it's not as far from the bright center of the universe as everyone thinks.
Fire in the hole. And we're not talking about last night's kebab.
As the sun peeks over the edge of the tranquil plateau, mushrooms of every color begin to sprout among the shadows of the contorted rock formations.
Musafa, one of the most experienced pilots in the land and more importantly the master of the one-liner, is first into the sky. While others are still struggling to, ahem, get it up, Team Butterfly Balloons are already pulling 3,000 feet.
Let there be light. And preferably champagne when we land.
The sheer number of balloons is mind boggling. Never in the history of mankind have there been so many 4am wake up calls and so few complaints. There was, of course, one though.
Team Butterfly drops low into the valley where the surface-level winds blow faster than the calm morning air higher up.
More hot air than the entire prime-time line-up on Fox News.
Incoming balloons, 12 o'clock! Hang on, shouldn't that be 4am?
It'll be just like Beggars' Canyon back home! Been waiting all blog for that one.
Skimming along the valley floor mere meters off the treetops is ballooning at its most exhilarating. Who would have thought three knots would seem like a Grand Prix? Musafa expertly spins the basket at the last second to slip between a gap in the trees, whilst simultaneously delivering a sardonic one-liner.
After, ahem, going down in the Valley of Love (no seriously that's the name, for reasons that should be obvious now that you've seen the rock formations) it's time to push the upper limits of this aircraft. 6,000 feet is the regulatory ceiling, which out here is really just the cue for Musafa to crack a joke about the fate of his last basket of passengers as a blasts through the limit, propane burners on full blast.
You can almost see the curvature of the earth from up here. No wait, that's just because Rock lost his glasses yesterday and is down to a single pair of contacts whose prescription dates back to the era when these valleys were forged in fire.
How patriotic. Now let's run up the Stars and Stripes, make some lofty promulgations about Freedom, and then send a Predator drone in to take out these terrorists. They have mosques for gawd's sake, them be evil-doers! Catch them before they get to their rabbit holes!
With the sun fully up, and the mighty fleet spread out across the sky, it's time to open the top hatch and start venting hot air for a gentle return to terra firma. Unfortunately, unless Rock stops talking we're going to be stuck up here for a while.
Think of it as a reward for that 4am alarm.
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