Pamukkale Wasn’t What I Expected

We’ve all read those posts celebrating places which should be tourist traps but which are surprisingly quiet and wonderful.

Unfortunately, this isn’t one of those posts.

I’m sure by reading the title you thought it would be. You assumed I’d say something like “I was expecting Pamukkale to suck, but I actually loved it!”, but in reality it was the exact opposite.

Out of Scott and I, it was me who put Pamukkale on our itinerary in the first place. I’d read some blogs and seen some pretty photos and was convinced we should spend at least a night in the town and see what all this white stuff was about for ourselves.

The Russian owner of our apartment in Antalya told us not to go to Pamukkale; she said we were wasting our time and that she’d been thoroughly disappointed. But we never listen to tales like that, preferring instead to garner our own opinions.

Having come from the relative serene and calm of that apartment (with goats running past, neck bells clinking, no less) this tourist town quickly seemed like a terrible mistake.

It all started at the bus station. You can’t actually book direct bus tickets into Pamukkale town, but instead have to travel to Denizli, which is about an hour’s minibus ride away (as it makes multiple stops). Instead of being directed to a minibus like everyone else, Scott and I were herded into the back of an unmarked car by some “official” at the station who told us that the minibuses were full but that this would cost the same amount, albeit take much less time, and tried to take the money upfront (of course we refused). We honestly thought we were going to be robbed, the situation was so odd and unexpected. The driver did take us into Pamukkale, but only to his “friend’s” tourist office, where we could conveniently books tours and tickets out of town.

It was then that the tout assault started.

A local hotel owner approached and tried to sell us his tours. Others asked us where we were going after we left Pammukale and “suggested” places for us to book tickets. We became so exasperated while waiting for the transfer to our hotel, that we walked off as they were talking to us and made our own way there, down a dusty back road (we were totally going the wrong way, but I would have walked through a pig sty to get away from the touts).

We dropped our bags off at our hotel and headed out to the travertine pools as sunset was approaching within the next couple of hours and we wanted to be there to witness it. Once you approach and pay the entrance fee, you have to take your shoes off and walk barefoot the rest of the way. No bags are provided, so I’d suggest you take a plastic bag or small rucksack to put them in, or risk carrying them the whole time like we did.

The chalk surface is also wet and sometimes very slippery – this was something we stupidly hadn’t expected either. I’m not sure how older folks fare climbing up to the top…

As we climbed, we passed the manmade pools, which are now the only ones in which you can bathe. They are quite artificially-shaped and apparently filled with hoses, as they do not fill naturally (although this tidbit of information was passed on to us by the aforementioned Russian apartment owner, so I can neither confirm or deny this – she seemed to really dislike the whole place). The contrast of the blue water certainly was striking against the white backdrop and the landscape provided some great photo opportunities, but the place was packed. There were regular log jams as people tried to file past each other and not slip in the running water (although you’d never know it from my photos. But then again, I’m great at making it look like busy places aren’t really tourist-filled at all).

We broke off from the crowds and followed a path along some of the dried-up pools, which you are not allowed to walk on, to an area which was quieter and more serene. It certainly was pretty, although as we had been warned by many people around Turkey, it looks nothing like the posters from the 70s which still adorn bus station walls. Most of the pools no longer have water in them and those that do are no longer open for bathing.

My favourite part of our excursion was the hike up the hill to the amphitheatre to watch the sun set. There was hardly anybody there and the view was spectacular.

As soon as the sun had gone behind the hills, we made our way back to our hotel in the near-dark and quickly realised that the lighting over the pools is less-than-illuminating and your feet quickly become cold when there is no sun shining on the water. But these were minor irritations. I had still enjoyed seeing the pools and a landscape that was so different from anything I’d ever seen before.

That was until we reached the town again and heard the shouts of touts from the handful of restaurants available.

(As a side note, we also realised that there are very few places to eat in Pamukkale in the evening, which is why all of the hotels and hostels usually have their own restaurants. The place is very much a “daytrip town” and pretty much shuts down at night, but that also means you’re left to the overpriced mercy of your own hotel.)

Overall, I’m glad I went to Pamukkale and saw what all the fuss was about with my own eyes. I don’t want to be a Debbie Downer and dissuade anyone from going, because it is worth seeing at least once in your life, but just be prepared that it is a tacky tourist town with very little appeal apart from the travertine pools themselves. And as for the pools, I would advise people to limit their expectations and realise that it no longer looks like it did in the glory days of the bus station posters.