After the war zone, a retreat to a cave hotel in Turkey’s Cappadocia region

As I prepared to leave Iraq at the end of a short stint in The Washington Post’s Baghdad bureau this year, everybody said the same thing: “Oh, you must go to the beach to decompress.”

But after days of unrelenting sun and temperatures upwards of 110 degrees, I didn’t find the idea of going somewhere to lie on hot sand especially appealing. I had a different plan: a cave hotel in Turkey.

Cappadocia, Turkey: Details on how to get there, where to stay, what to do

Turkish Airlines is one of the few commercial airlines to fly to Baghdad, so a stop in Turkey on the way home seemed like a natural choice. Also, I had this vague feeling that I wanted to continue exploring the vestiges of the ancient world that had opened up to me in Iraq. Seeing shepherds minding their flocks on a dusty road to Kirkuk, for example, had evoked biblical times. And in Turkey, which had been a refuge for the early Christians, there are still communities that speak the ancient tongue of Aramaic.

Most of all, though, I wanted to go somewhere cool. Literally.

After a bit of Googling, I hit on Cappadocia, the region in central Turkey known for its volcanic rock formations. After a bit more Googling, I found Serinn House, a boutique hotel set into the ashy cliffs of Urgup, with cave rooms outfitted in chic modernist decor.

Sold!

But as my plane began its descent into the airport in Kayseri after a short flight from Istanbul, I started to panic. From the air, the landscape below had the arid look of the desert I’d just left behind. As a mountain range came into view, I realized that I’d been so busy covering al-Qaeda attacks and troop movements that I had no idea what those mountains even were. Disembarking, I faced lost luggage and a pounding headache from a drop in temperature of about 40 degrees. I wondered about the wisdom of my decision.

All I wanted to do was to sit on a stone terrace somewhere and sip a crisp white wine. I was hot, tired, sweaty and overwhelmed. Had I made a terrible mistake?

My fears were somewhat allayed as the airport shuttle rattled through a Mediterranean landscape of apricot trees and terra cotta houses. After a little more than an hour, the driver took a sharp left turn and climbed a bumpy stone hill, depositing me in front of Serinn House.

Owner Eren Serpen, warm and friendly, opened the carved wood door to greet me, offering me a chilled glass of water and a snack. The hotel — now charming — was a ruin when Serpen bought it in 2004 and hired Istanbul architect Rifat Ergor to design its six rooms.

I declined the snack and went right to my cave. It didn’t disappoint: The raised bed was nestled beneath the arching cave wall, and the room was outfitted with a white Habitat sofa and trendy lamps. I opened the window to let the fresh air in and flopped onto the bed for a nap.

I awoke to dusk and the familiar sound of the muezzin — the Muslim call to prayer from the local mosque — floating through my open window. There was something else, too: divinely cool air. I got out my journal and wrote, “The cool air is like a bomb,” before I realized my mistake, crossed out “bomb” and wrote “balm.”