A colorful trip to Cappadocia, Istanbul and the ruins of Troy, Turkey

I've either been pixie-dusted or turned into Barney Rubble. Everywhere I look, towering rock "fairy chimneys" dot Turkey's fantastical Cappadocia. I'll also explore mystical age-old cave churches, sleep in a "cave hotel," scoot/duck/gasp my way through an ancient underground city, one of dozens burrowed here, and dreamily float over it all in a balloon.

"A prince fell in love with this beautiful fairy," begins my guide, launching into a tangled tale meant to explain this sprawling surrealscape. The truth is, over millions of years, Mother Nature eroded soft volcanic tuff into majestic "fairy chimneys" vaulting up to 130 feet high and shaped like cones, spires, obelisks and mammoth mushrooms. Just as extraordinary, medieval monks and other troglodytes chiseled out still-existing cave chapels, cave dwellings, cave castles and subterranean cave hideouts.

Cappadocia is just one highlight of my colorful, culture-rich travels in Turkey. I begin in exotic Istanbul and end near the Aegean Sea in the fabled ancient ruins of Troy (where, history buffs will remember, Helen's face launched a thousand ships).

But you ask, is Turkey safe? Tourism is slowly rebounding following a series of terrorist attacks and an attempted coup in 2016. I go with a friend in August and feel secure. Official U.S. and Turkish relations may remain strained, but Turkish people are hospitable, especially when they find out I'm American. Besides beaming smiles, I receive customary kisses on each cheek and have a continual buzz from accepting so many offers to drink demitasse cups of thick Turkish coffee. During my trip, there's just one little glitch, and it is handled swimmingly — our 170-passenger ferry runs aground and we have to be rescued by the Turkish Coast Guard.

Cappadocia

In Cappadocia's Imagination Valley, rock configurations enchantingly resemble animals, including a camel, a cobra and seals.

At dawn one morning, I soar in a 12-passenger hot air balloon, surrounded by another 100 rainbow-hued balloons, as the neon orange sunrise awakens these hoodoo hinterlands. It's way-out-of-this-world magical.

"You know, people think my favorite movie is 'Top Gun,' " says my pilot, Hakan Yildiz. "But it's really 'Titanic.' " Over an hour (and more jokes) later, we smoothly land and toast with Champagne.

Then I fly the coop to Pigeon Valley, another bizarre realm where humans whittled holes into wavy cliffs to house thousands of birds for centuries. Pigeons were prized for their poop. "It's always been an excellent fertilizer for the wine-producing vineyards in this area," explains my guide, Bunyamin. He had earlier spun the doomed love story about the prince and fairy, which (spoiler alert) finishes with unsuspecting sprites being changed into pigeons.

We also trek around the Goreme Open Air Museum, an astounding Byzantine village of rock-cut chapels and monasteries with mysterious names such as the Snake Church and painted frescoes of Jesus. Orthodox Christian monks hand-hewed these cave churches and lived inside as hermits roughly 1,000 years ago.

The next day, I literally crawl through parts of Kaymakli Underground City. Eons ago, thousands of Christians hid from Roman persecutors in these subterranean honeycomb caverns that include a small stable, communal kitchen and living quarters. Fascinating history, but I'm glad to gulp oxygen and a glass of the local Emir varietal wine back on the fresh-air terrace of Argos, my hillside monastery-turned-boutique cave hotel.

Istanbul

Captivating, bustling Istanbul is East-meets-West, cosmopolitan-meets-antiquities, and a bevy of street carts selling Turkish sesame-coated "simit" pretzel bagels. Here's where my entire trip starts. Islam is the predominant religion in Turkey, but the country has a secular government and its people reflect that mix. Some women don summer shorts and tank tops; others, hijab headscarves and long dresses.

"Hello, you need saffron, cheap price, come in please, where are you from?" ask various vendors inside the cavernous 350-year-old stall-lined Spice Bazaar, a psychedelic feast for eyes and nose. Vibrant mounds of seasonings (red paprika, yellow curry, orange "chicken spice"), flower-bud loose teas (Anatolian shadow rose), traditional treats (almond-stuffed dried apricots, yum!) are heaped next to scads of good-luck "evil eye" souvenirs.

Monumental mosques are plentiful in Istanbul (the azure-tiled Blue Mosque, the ornate cathedral-turned-mosque Hagia Sophia), but I prefer serenely grand Suleymaniye Mosque, built on orders of Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent and completed in 1557. Mainly I'm intrigued by his back story: Suleiman wed redhead Roxelana, a former slave from his harem, "who kept nagging and nagging him that his son was going to dethrone him," says my guide Yaman Yaka of KD Tours. "Suleiman did many great things." Except parenting; he had his son strangled to death.

Canakkale

Homer's epic poem "The Iliad" famously memorialized the Trojan War. I remember seeing spear-flinging Brad Pitt and his sculpted abs in the 2004 swords-and-sandal blockbuster movie "Troy."

That helps when we set out from Canakkale, a town near the north Aegean Sea, to explore the archaeological ruins of the lore-ridden ancient city of Troy. Legend has it that more than 3,000 years ago, the bloody, decadelong Trojan War was fought here to rescue gorgeous married Greek Queen Helen, who was either kidnapped or ran off with Prince Paris of Troy. Ultimately, the Greeks pretended to retreat with their ships, leaving a giant wooden Trojan Horse as a "gift" — but surprise! Soldiers were stashed inside and Troy was sacked.

Without a creative tour guide, the sweeping World Heritage-honored ruins may seem like layers of rocks and stone walls since you can't make out much. However, the expansive artifact-laden Troy Museum is due to open soon at the site. Back in Canakkale, Brad's co-star, the hulking prop Trojan Horse from the Hollywood film, looms over the seaport.

From Canakkale, one day we ride a ferry to the haunting World War I battlefields of Gallipoli, where military statues and graves pay homage to Turkish soldiers and then-enemies Aussies and Brits. Another morning, a ferry brings us to festive beachgoer-packed, turquoise-watered Bozcaada Island. But it's our 170-passenger, 64-vehicle-carrying ferry to Gokceada Island that grabs news headlines ("stranded") when it runs aground a pebble's throw from the destination's dock. Reports claim either the steering or engine failed and the captain stopped us from crashing ashore. Anyway, 2½ hours later (I calmly await rescue with a grilled cheese sandwich), the Turkish Coast Guard arrives and evacuates us to their boat. Maybe this is when I need a "fairy."