Soar and Roar

One day, I watched a documentary about a pet dog in America. Every morning, the dog acted as if he had completely lost his mind. He barked and barked—louder than a rooster waking the whole house. He jumped onto the sofa, barked at the door, crawled under the table, barked again, then leaped around the room, clearly in great distress. But as the sun climbed higher, he would calm down and become the gentlest dog on the planet. Then the next morning, he would start his “extravagant morning calls” all over again. His family couldn’t figure out what was causing his strange behavior.

Eventually, they called a dog whisperer. To everyone’s amazement, the culprit was the hot air balloons floating high and low near their balcony, which overlooked one of the balloon launch areas. To prove his theory, the dog whisperer asked to come early the next morning. As soon as the colorful balloons appeared outside the window, he opened the front door. A tremendous roar flooded into the living room, and the dog went completely frantic—even worse than ever before.

Maybe two or three years later, I traveled to Cappadocia—not for the hot air balloons, but for the Silk Road. One morning, I woke up to a rushing roar. I peeked through the curtain and saw colorful balloons painted across a deep blue sky, my favorite color. I stepped onto the flat rooftop with my camera in hand, completely stunned. It was my first time seeing hot air balloons from that close. For years, the movie in my head had shown colorful umbrellas drifting across the sky with little baskets hanging beneath them. Only then, standing on that flat rooftop, did I realize someone had left it on mute.

Have you ever imagined something for years, only to discover that your imagination had left out one crucial detail?