In Cappadocia, I learned the beauty of the chase. In Vang Vieng, I learned something quieter: the grace of floating.
I first attempted to ride a hot air balloon in 2019, on my 35th birthday, in Cappadocia, Turkey.
It felt like a milestone year; the kind people mark carefully if you believe in the “return of Saturn.” It was my first time in Europe, and I wanted something memorable to match it. I booked the balloon ride on my exact birthday, convinced that intention and early planning would bend things in my favor, as if the universe would have no choice but to cooperate.
It did not.
Before sunrise, we gathered for breakfast and waited for the pilots’ signal: green to go, yellow to wait, red to cancel. The yellow flag came up twice. By the third return, the pilot had a decision while holding the red flag. No flight.
I remember the disappointment. I had flown halfway across the world, taken another flight to reach Cappadocia, and woken up before dawn only to be grounded by the wind. I asked if I could be squeezed into the next day’s flight. Summer was peak season and bookings were full. I took the refund, grateful but slightly miserable, and I really tried my best not to take it personally.
The moment I found out the flight was a no-go, I messaged my best friend in Manila. She was awake and replied, “It’s a birthday trip. Not a birthday [hot air balloon] ride.”
I did not fully understand what she meant then. What surprised me most was what happened next.
When my tour mates learned it was my birthday, they began messaging their own tour operators on my behalf, hoping someone might have a last-minute opening. No luck. Then one guide replied with an unexpected suggestion: If you can’t ride the balloon, would you like to chase it?
At dawn the next morning, he picked me up in a roofless van and drove straight into the desert. As the sun rose, balloons lifted into the sky one by one. He knew exactly where to stop, where the light was right, and where the balloons filled the horizon. Then we drove again, following them across empty roads, past Cappadocia’s moonscape ground.
I did not ride the balloon, but I saw it from everywhere.
At one point, as balloons drifted overhead, I felt myself tearing up, not from sadness but from awe. I had wanted one specific experience so badly that I had not realized how many other versions of beauty are available to me.
Looking back now, that experience feels like a quiet premonition.
The years that followed were defined by chasing: after certainty during the pandemic, after vaccines, after career changes, after reassurance that I was doing life correctly. I chased deadlines, validation from people, success metrics, even outcomes I could not control. It can be exhilarating. But it can also be exhausting.
I chased and chased—I just did not know when to stop.
By the second half of 2024, the pace of life had begun to catch up with me. I found myself in one of the most toxic environments I had ever experienced, one that eroded my confidence, and I kept chasing affirmation that I already knew I would not get. All I wanted was to get out, to move, to feel like myself again as quickly as possible. I thought about that empty road in Cappadocia often. Only this time, I was not enjoying the view. I just wanted distance.
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Vang Vieng, Laos
In the third quarter of 2025, I booked an impulsive trip to Laos. I cannot pinpoint the exact reason. Maybe it was a travel writing workshop I had recently attended. Maybe I was reminiscing about unfinished bucket lists my brother and I had a few years back. I only knew I needed space.
When I discovered that Vang Vieng, Laos offers hot air balloon rides, a familiar feeling of excitement surfaced, followed by doubt. What if it gets canceled again? Still, I told myself that this would not be the only reason for the trip. There were many other things to do and explore in Laos. This time, I did not negotiate with the universe. I simply booked it and let it be.
Finally, on a cool December morning, I found myself in the holding area as balloons were inflated in the early light. The pilot explained that hot air balloons cannot control direction, only altitude. Up or down. That was it. The wind would decide the rest.
He explained that while he could not steer where we were going, he could decide when to rise and when to descend. Up or down was the only choice available to us.
That sentence struck me. It got me thinking about life. There are some things and directions we simply cannot control, but we can choose how we see them. Sometimes going higher gives us clarity. Sometimes coming down grounds us. It really is all about perspective, something I still have to remind myself of.
As we were lifted gently into the air, everything seemed to soften. From the grassy, muddy ground we had been stepping on, the fields below suddenly became patterns. Limestone mountains emerged through the mist. The sunrise slowly lit the horizon. I raised my hand toward the sun, not to reach it, but to acknowledge it. There was a fleeting sense of Icarus, without the chase. For the first time in a long while, I was not chasing anything.
A familiar line by Modest Mouse echoed in my head, a song I had loved since high school. Even if things get heavy, we’ll all float on anyway. The lyrics felt especially apt.
Only later did I realize the coincidence. The ride I missed had been scheduled for June 6, 2019. The one I finally took happened on December 6, six years later, on a different continent, under a different sky. A different version of myself.
In Cappadocia, I learned the beauty of the chase, the hunger, the urgency and belief that effort alone could bend outcomes. In Vang Vieng, I learned something quieter: the grace of floating.
Both are valid. One teaches desire. The other teaches trust.
As 2026 begins, I am going to do my best to choose to float more often. To stop measuring progress by speed and altitude, and start feeling the warmth of the sun. To savor the view without needing to arrive anywhere else.
After years of chasing, I think I have earned this ride.
Travel notes: From Manila, I flew to Bangkok, then onward to Luang Prabang. From there, Vang Vieng is easily reached by van or train. For those interested in booking a hot air balloon experience in Laos, check out abovelaos.com.
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