FRANCE
EUROPE
AFRICA
MIDDLE EAST
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SOUTH AMERICA
ASIA
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OCEANIA
Caught between Europe and the East — not quite one, not just the other — Turkey draws you in slowly, then all at once. With local Turkey tour guides, you won’t just see monuments; you’ll uncover stories, the kind passed down over tea or hidden in corners.
Start in Istanbul. Palaces, domes, crowded bazaars. Somewhere between the spice stalls and the Bosphorus breeze, time folds. Lights flicker. Minarets stretch into the sky.
Near Ankara, ruins lie scattered — Byzantines, Romans, Ottomans. All left their trace. Then comes Izmir, facing the Aegean. The Alsancak district? Young, stylish, restless. The seaside promenade? Quiet, almost meditative.
In Cappadocia, soft rock turns into homes, tunnels, dreams. Troglodyte cities breathe underground. Above, at dawn, balloons rise — a sky turned surreal.
Southwest, by Denizli, Pamukkale waits. Maybe you’ve seen it — white limestone, water pooling in silence. It feels otherworldly, and somehow familiar.
Antalya leans into the sea, its cliffs pale and steep, olive trees clinging to the slopes. The beaches draw you in—Kaputas, folded tight into the rocks; Lara, busier, louder maybe; Patara, long and quiet, like it forgot the world existed.
In the old quarter, walls lean close. The Yivli Minare stands there, tiled and ancient, watching over alleys where Ottoman houses still creak under the sun. Not much moves, except the light, and the echo of steps on stone.
Down near the Old Port, the buzz of life returns: terraces packed, glasses clinking, sea breeze brushing past. Outside town, Aspendos, still standing after centuries, keeps its Roman voice intact—every stone an echo.
In Denizli Province, Pamukkale—”cotton castle,” they say. You’ve probably seen it, bright white terraces where hot water spills, cooling into pools the color of milky jade.
It’s crowded now. Too many feet. But step off the path a little—less noise, more stillness. Higher up sits Hierapolis, once a Roman spa. The theater, carved into the slope, opens onto the hills. You almost hear the crowd, gone but not erased.
Cappadocia. Rocks shaped by wind, homes carved out of stone. It’s dry, open, and full of stories. Start around Göreme or Uçhisar, where houses seem born from the cliff walls.
Then dive down—Derinkuyu waits underground, ancient and intricate. Tunnels, chambers, wells—it once sheltered whole communities.
Above ground again, the valleys stretch: red, white, rose. Sunlight shifts color across the peaks. The vineyards cling on. Silence, but not empty.
Facing the Aegean, Izmir moves to its own rhythm. Broad, open-minded. Start with Atatürk Avenue—long, steady, and always moving. You’ll see the sea flickering through the palms.
The Kordon promenade, from the clock tower through Konak to the old bazaar, feels easy. Cafés spill onto the sidewalk, domes glint in the heat. Yali Mosque stands small and elegant, tucked between shops.
Wander the covered market—Keremalti—where spices hang thick in the air. And if the city wears you down, Karagöl waits just uphill. Trees, still water, a place to sit and not talk.
Green Bursa lies in the folds of the Uludag mountains. In winter, it draws skiers. The rest of the year, it offers a slower kind of walk.
Past the bazaar, narrow alleys twist between old caravanserais. In Koza Han, silk still hangs in the windows. Across the square, Ulu Camii rises—20 domes, two minarets, soft light behind calligraphy.
Down in Çekirge, hammams steam quietly. Up on the ramparts, wind brushes your face. Sunset comes slow over the rooftops and the hills beyond.
Ankara
Turkish
783,356 km²
October 29
84 million
Turkish Lira (TRY)
TRT (UTC+3)
Varied
+90
230 V, Type C & F
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