By Alice Bzowska
A soaring mountain that seemed to gently brush the edges of the wispy clouds loomed over the horizon as I drove through the Denizli Province located in South West Turkey last week. “Is that snow?” I thought to myself, ignoring the 30 degree Celsius heat that was relentless even with the windows down blowing my hair all over the place. As I stepped out onto the road leading up to this incredibly striking structure of natural beauty, it occurred to me that what appeared to be snow couldn’t possibly be in these sizzling temperatures, and as I walked up to the entrance of Pamukkale, I knew that this hidden gem of the ancient Ottoman empire was going to be a unique and surreal experience as the white mass steadily grew nearer.
A UNESCO World Heritage site and translated from Turkish into ‘Cotton Castle’, Pamukkale is the entrance to the ancient Roman and Byzantine city of Hierapolis, and is a limestone travertine with steamy thermal pools lining the pathway up to the city. I had never heard of it until a few days before visiting, and once I began to step through Pamukkale, struck by the uniqueness all around me, I was unsure as to why this remarkable place was virtually unknown to me previously.
Before stepping away from the gravel path and onto the cotton-like mass of white, it is required for everyone to take off their shoes and socks, which made the experience all the more enjoyable. Off came the Converse, and although I was nervous at first that the ground may be scorching from the searing sun, it had a surprisingly soft and cool touch, and made me want to leave the shoes off for longer than I probably should have. With a mixture of steamy pools and fresher, cooler ones which were a welcome relief in the heat, it was a natural impulse to dip my toes (or most of my leg) in the dusty calcium carbonate pools, and I felt that visiting Pamukkale was wonderful for being an interactive and immersive experience instead of one where you just stand back and admire, however great the view really was.
Higher and higher I walked on the delicate, creamy surface, making sure I took time to peer out at the vast landscape of south western Turkey stretching across the River Menderes Valley. Once the edges of the snowy ground were in sight and I had walked up over 500 feet, I was allowed to (reluctantly) slip my shoes back on and explore the crumbling grandeur of Hierapolis.
Hierapolis sits atop the white limestone mass of Pamukkale and forms part of the UNESCO World Heritage Site. Located on hot springs which have been enjoyed as a spa for over 2000 years, the ancient city is home to an impressive theatre, majestic thoroughfares, arches and gates and other relics. After the refreshing experience of walking through the Cotton Castle, exploring Hierapolis was entirely different, and the abandoned and discarded feel to the city as well as the relative lack of tourists enabled the sensation that I was discovering these ruins as if for the first time.
Once I had wandered through Hierapolis, soaking up the breath-taking beauty of my surroundings, it was time to take off my white Converse again which unsurprisingly didn’t look white anymore against the marble-like surface of the limestone at Pamukkale, and head back down. The descent didn’t take as long as going up since I didn’t feel inclined to dip my feet into every infinity-like pool I passed, but I still appreciated where I was. “How is it I hadn’t heard of it before?” I thought to myself over and over again, as I was reminded of my trip to the popular Salt Flats of Uyuni in Bolivia which are slightly similar in appearance to the Cotton Castle but entirely different by experience.
To walk bare foot on a unique and slightly surreal, not to mention outstandingly beautiful natural structure is the only way to appreciate this gleaming travertine. Turkey is famed for its succulent kebabs, sweet Turkish delight, opulent mosques and intricate carpets which you will see plenty of on any trip to the country, but no trip is complete without a visit to the truly awe-inspiring white heaven of Pamukkale.
by Caroline Sandes
Persepolis rises up on its plateau – tall classical columns keeping sentry above the walls. Up you go, trying to resist the urge to take two at a time of the shallow steps that lead up to Xerxes’ magnificent Gate of All Lands; the two colossal mythical guardian bulls between which you must pass making you feel insignificant. And then there it spreads out before you in all its ruined glory, the site of Persepolis, watched over by Artaxerxes II and III’s tombs cut into the rock above the site. And if you turn around, you can look down the long straight avenue and out to the mountains beyond with the blue sky behind, your fellow tourists looking some-what antlike below.
The earliest remains of Persepolis date to 518 BC, just four years after Darius the Great came to power. He is responsible for much of the building of Persepolis, one of the capitals of the Persian empire. Building continued on the site until the defeat of the Achaemenid dynasty by Alexander the Great in 331 BC. Whether Alexander ordered Persepolis to be burnt or it was an accident remains a mystery. Herodotus doesn’t mention Persepolis in his Histories, but he does detail all that history and mention all the people you come across depicted in the reliefs of the surviving ruins. So there on the Apadana Staircase you come face to face with all the peoples of the empire, including the Ethiopians, Greeks, Cappadocians, Bactrians with a two-humped camel, Elamites with a lioness and cubs, Indians, and the wonderfully unpronounceable Orthocorybantians with their pointy hats, to name just a few. In March every year, Iranians celebrate their national new year holiday, Na Ruz. This procession of stately people carved onto the Apadana Staircase had come from all parts of the Persian empire, stretching from East Africa to India, bearing gifts for the emperor to celebrate the same Na Ruz some 2500 years ago. 
The late 80s were my formative years in terms of travel and holidays. In late July, six weeks of school holidays would begin and – like many other fortunate British families who had the opportunity to do such things – we would pack the boot of the car, load the roof rack and set out on a voyage of discovery to the Continent.
Delhi is an assault on your senses. However you arrive in the city, it smacks you around the face with its intensity. The flavours and smells of the markets and food stalls; the sounds of a bustling, busy city; the sights of the completely contrasting old and new cites sitting next to each other: there is nowhere in the world quite like it.
We stayed in the historic centre which was ideal for walking to the main tourist sites whilst we took fast and reliable buses and trams to other areas. We did not try the underground system but it looks pretty impressive. There are plentiful and pretty cheap taxis but the drivers do not always know the way and may not always speak English. Two other things to beware of, they may try to negotiate a fare rather than using the meter, and the roads are pretty gridlocked during rush hour.