I arrived in Goreme at 6:30am and slowly wandered around the town to find my hotel. It was cold and the air was clear and crisp. I stared up to marvel at all the odd shaped towers. Some were tall and thin, some stripped and leaning off-kilter, others short and banded, and some looked like spooky medieval castles. They were littered around town, spread throughout the hillside and down into the valley below. I then looked up and noticed the balloons above me, drifting gracefully like they had escaped from a child’s hand. They glided silently over the town and I stared until the cold morning air forced me to find my warm hotel.