But of all Turkey's assorted musical genres, the one I find the least appealing is the sort of music favored at village weddings. I suppose I can hear my father ranting on about some of the music I used to enjoy in my girlhood, but really, it does all sound just the same.The same, however, is not what could be said about our wedding venues. Indeed it would be hard to think of a better place to host a wedding than Cappadocia, where romantic backdrops come 10 a penny.
First off, there are the fairy chimneys, the crazy rock formations that form such an essential part of the local landscape. One of the very first village weddings I went to took place in a Göreme restaurant that is ringed by fairy chimneys. When it came time to sign the paperwork, the happy couple disappeared inside one of them while the rest of us loitered outside in our not-so-flashy wedding outfits, doing our best to look excited about the packaged peach juice and plate of dry biscuits that constitute slap-up celebratory fare around here.
Then there are the caravanserais. Perhaps the most romantic of all the weddings I've attended here took place in the Sarıhan just outside Avanos, a Silk Road hostelry dating back to the 13th century but given new life by recent restoration. That was more of a society do, which meant posh frocks at least for the bride's family. The snag was that it took place in October, which meant that by the time the couple had paraded through an arch of flares, posed for the cameras and signed their paperwork, the rest of us were so cold that all we could think about was snuggling under blankets with a nice hot cup of tea.
Just as in İstanbul, hotels are also popular wedding venues, especially with those who work in tourism and can manage to negotiate juicy discounts. The biggest beano I've ever been to took place around the pool at the Hotel Mustafa in Ürgüp, where villagers gawped in awe as a cake the size of the Leaning Tower of Pisa was paraded in front of them. Another lavish affair took place in the garden of the Kelebek Hotel in Göreme, with guests reclining on cushions beneath the honeysuckle and gypsy musicians bused in from Kayseri to keep things going into the early hours.
Finally, there are the extraordinary cave labyrinths, which host our “Turkish Nights,” strange affairs whose authenticity is somewhat dubious (imagine seeing a friend dressed as a whirling dervish going through the motions while trying to suppress a yawn, and you'll get the general picture), but which can still be great fun if you go along with the right crowd. It's in one such place just outside Avanos that a friend will be remarrying the husband she recently wed in Australia, this time in front of his family. Alas, I can't be there to join in the fun, but I think I can safely say that a good time is bound to be had by all.
Pat Yale lives in a restored cave-house in Göreme in Cappadocia. 
