Picture this: You’re in Cappadocia, Turkey—a landscape so surreal it feels like God spilled his morning coffee on Mars. Rose-tinted valleys, phallic rock formations (lovingly called “fairy chimneys”), and cave hotels that make you feel like a very pampered hobbit. Now, add a grumpy, drooling camel named Kevin. This is not a drill.
The “Desert Ship” Debacle
I signed up for a “sunset camel ride,” imagining a slow-motion glide across golden sands, Lawrence of Arabia-style. Reality? Kevin’s idea of romance was aggressively chewing my scarf while side-eyeing my water bottle. As I mounted him (a 3-step ordeal involving a wobbly stool and Turkish laughter), he let out a groan that sounded like my uncle after Thanksgiving dinner. Note to self: Camels are 90% sass, 10% spit.
Wobbling Through Wonderland
Once Kevin decided I wasn’t a threat, we lurched forward. The “ride” felt like balancing on a washing machine during spin cycle. Every step triggered existential dread: “Is this how I die? Trampled by fairy chimneys?” But then—magic. The setting sun painted the sky tangerine, casting long shadows over valleys dotted with ancient cave churches. Kevin’s hump bobbed rhythmically, and suddenly, the wobble felt like a dance. Even his occasional spit missiles felt… poetic?
Kevin’s Main Character Moment
Halfway through, Kevin spotted a suspiciously leafy bush. What followed was a 5-minute standoff where he refused to budge, humming like a disgruntled fridge. Our guide, Mustafa, sighed: “He do this every time. Very dramatic camel.” We named the bush “Kevin’s Muse.” (RIP, my schedule.)
The Grand Finale: Spit & Sparkle
As dusk fell, Kevin redeemed himself. We crested a hill, and Cappadocia unfolded—a dreamscape of glowing lanterns and rock-cut villages. I patted his neck (avoiding the damp patches). He responded with a guttural “hrumph.” Was it affection? Indigestion? I’ll never know. But in that moment, straddling a moody dromedary amid geological chaos, I felt absurdly alive.
Survival Tips for Camel Newbies
- Wear pants you hate. Kevin’s drool is a fashion statement.
- Embrace the lurch. Lean into the wobble; resistance is futile.
- Befriend the guide. Mustafa’s stories (and his ability to bribe Kevin with carrots) saved my sanity.
- Laugh. You’re riding a furry dinosaur in a volcanic wonderland. Absurdity is the point.
So, should you do it? Absolutely. Kevin may judge you, the saddle may bruise you, but watching Cappadocia’s skies ignite while perched on a living, grumbling footstool? That’s the kind of beautiful nonsense travel legends are made of. Just bring wet wipes. So. Much. Spit.
P.S. Kevin, if you’re reading this—I forgive you. But my scarf does not.