We now know that memories are not fixed or frozen, like Proust's jars of preserves in a larder, but are transformed, disassembled, reassembled, and recategorized with every act of recollection. Oliver Sacks
Here is a recollection of a day spent in Turkey, told largely in photos. It was several years ago, before I started this blog.
In Goreme I woke to a load buzzing, its source circling like a giant mosquito. I could even make out voices but I couldn't quite make out the words. Then I walked outside and saw the sky full of colorful orbs, each propelled by an occasional blast of flame. And underneath were baskets full of people. And they slowly drifted across the sky.
I was in Goreme, a small town near the center of Turkey in an area called Cappadocia, to see the sometimes rather phallic-looking fairy chimney rock formations. On arrival something else caught my interest, the fact that Goreme's climate is near perfect for ballooning. So one morning I got up early, drove out to a nearby field, and watched a balloon being filled with warm air.
For some reason I wasn't fearful in the balloon, no claustrophobia being confined in the cramped basket, no acrophobia despite being high in the sky held up by a bit of temperature difference.
The fellow on the right is the balloon's pilot. What's notable about this shot is it's like I just discovered it. I'd never tried to process it, I just assumed there was nothing in the interior, as the scene's got a too-wide wide dynamic range. Of course now I know how to pull detail out of dark areas, even in shots from an old D300.
We floated over Goreme, from one edge of town to the other, for about an hour. Then, once past town, we came in sight of a field. A small truck pulling a trailer was moving towards us across the field. We started our descent and soon stopped. The balloon landing was smooth and uneventful, just like you'd want it. We climbed out of the basket and found it was sitting straight on the flatbed, almost ready for another trip. I think they've done this a few times.