Istanbul, not Constantinople.
Now it's Istanbul, not Constantinople.
Been a long time gone, Constantinople.
Why did Constantinople get the works?
That's nobody's business but the Turks.

They Might Be Giants

Our group of fourteen met in the unlit courtyard of the hotel, shivering against the chill and questioning our resolve.

At five a.m. a white passenger van arrived. We clambered inside, glad for the communal warmth.

The driver spoke no English. He distributed bags of packaged breakfast snacks—croissants, energy bars, and cartons of fruit drink.

The van jolted over stony single-track roads during the half-hour ride to the launch site. Occasionally, the headlights of other vehicles flashed through the windows, but I could see nothing outside. No lights, no moon.

We left the outskirts of Mustafapaşa and eventually descended into a long valley, where numerous vehicles were parked in fields along the sides of the road. Occasionally, blue flames flared in the distance.

Finally, the van stopped and we climbed out, stumbling over rocks in the dark. Nearby, a gigantic nylon sheath sprawled on the ground like a collapsed circus tent.

The crew stretched it out and positioned powerful fans in front of an opening. A bubble began to form. Crew members crouched inside of it, tugging on cords, kicking open the folds.

As the pouch slowly filled with air, it wallowed on the ground. The fans were replaced by propane burners, which shot long tongues of flame into the balloon’s cavity.

The bursts illuminated the inside of the sack and it began to resemble a huge incandescent bulb lying on its side.

The process was repeated in the fields around us, as dozens of limp bags glowed internally and intermittently like fireflies.

In the beams of vehicle headlights, our crew tilted a wicker basket and attached it to the swelling balloon.

We climbed into the basket’s compartments, each of which fit just two or three of us. In total, the gondola held thirty people—twenty-eight passengers and two crew. Surely, it was too much weight.

Our balloon was tethered to an off-road vehicle. By the light of the burners, I could see the ground crew studying our situation. Then, I realized they were looking up at us. Somehow, imperceptibly, we had risen.

It was time to release our hold on earth. The pilot dropped a ballast bag to the ground and fired the burners. The tethers were untied. Slowly, gently, and with the roar of the burners in our ears, we ascended. We were free.

The day before I asked our tour guide, Volkan, if he would be joining us. “No,” he said. “I will be in my room praying.”

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