Balloons? Yes.

Yep. I’ve been in a balloon. It’s awesome. We are in Cappadocia, BTW. Fine, Turkey. Cappadocia has some nice rock formations, nicknamed Fairy Chimneys by most people. Me? I say they look more like Phairy Phalluses. No, not palaces, phalluses. Who knows, maybe mum and I just have perverted, immature minds. But the resemblance is striking.
Now, back to ballooning. It was an early wake-up for the sunrise (all balloon places do it), but what comes next (no, not the bus ride you twit) was brilliant. We saw the balloons inflating. The thing they use to heat up the air seems more like a flamethrower than a gas burner.
Next up: The takeoff. It’s a slow, crawling takeoff. The pilot burns loads of gas to get us into the air. But we make it. Next, we fly over the place coyly called Love Valley. Not very romantic, but certainly the highest concentration of Phairy Phalluses. But there’s more.
The pilot is very skilled. We fly down into another valley. We fly between rocks and at one point brush over the top of a tree. At this point I’m no longer worried by the creaking noises coming from the steel cables holding it all together. Nor does the drop perturb me in the least.
The rest of the flight goes pretty smoothly. At the end we slow down to stop because of lack of wind and have to climb a bit to catch the air current. But it’s fine. Finally, we land in the back of a truck. Yes, I said truck. It’s a flatbed. The flight isn’t over yet, though.
Next, the pilot opens vents to let the air out. I am perhaps the only one happy to end up swathed in the now-deflated bag. Now, finally, we get out. This is after the bag is taken off us, obviously. Now, finally, the flight is truly over. Last of all: Celebratory champagne (for me too). Turkish champagne. And yes, it’s tinged with vodka.