Kayseri buying hash

__________________________

📍 Verified store!

📍 Guarantees! Quality! Reviews!

__________________________

▼▼ ▼▼ ▼▼ ▼▼ ▼▼ ▼▼ ▼▼

▲▲ ▲▲ ▲▲ ▲▲ ▲▲ ▲▲ ▲▲

Kayseri buying hash

Wildflowers on the Dunes ». The first morning did not get off to the most promising start. The city of Kayseri was wet, cold and dreary. The service bus dropped me in a nebulous, grey part of town. Not having a map, I walked in the direction that most of the morning traffic was headed. Within a few blocks, I arrived at the ancient city walls near the castle. Groups of men in cheap, worn-looking suits stood huddled together in tight groups talking. The bus was scheduled to leave in an hour, so I went a few doors down and found a cafe serving breakfast. Instead, I ordered the classic Turkish breakfast, a boiled egg served with cheese, sliced tomatoes and cucumbers, olives, fresh bread and tea. Upstairs in the cafe, there were no customers. A painting of Mount Eciyeres was on the wall, and Turkish heavy metal was incongruously blaring over the speakers. I was tired from the overnight bus trip, and a little depressed. The people seemed friendly enough. The ticket had cost 10 lira, and she had shown me where to get the service bus, and even agreed to watch my bags while I went for breakfast. The waiter, too, was friendly. I ate quickly, looking out the window at the town, which still looked sad and dreary. Maybe it was just the weather. Maybe in summertime, on a fine day, it was a nice city. You could never tell. It was probably a much better scene at night, when all the people were out. When it was time to depart, the clerk directed us again to the place where the bus would pick us up. I walked with a young Turk named Yusuf. He was carrying a heavy bag, so we had to stop now and again to let him rest. Yusuf was an engineer who was on his way to a job in Konya for three months. He leaned over the seat to talk. What are you doing in Kayseri? Very nice. I am going to Alanya and Antalya. After that I am going to Cyprus for one year for my military service. I could tell he was showing off a bit, speaking English. The other young people around him seemed to listen with a mixture of shy bemusement and admiration. Very good. Do you like Kayseri? I have been in Istanbul three times, and I have been to Ankara two times. Istanbul is very beautiful city. He was a bit tired of speaking, I think, for he got quiet the rest of the journey. We arrived at terminal and everyone began to get off. A girl who had been sitting next to me, and listening to our conversation walked next to me on our way to the terminal. She was studying at Erciyes University in Kayseri. You will like Cappadocia much better. The sun had come out, and it was much warmer than it had been earlier. We boarded the bus. The bus got going, heading out to the main road. Most of the people on the bus were quiet, with that boredom that creeps in with the journey. The central Anatolian countryside, verdant, rolling green, passed by. We passed farmland and herds of animals grazing, but they were to far away to make out, here and there were asphalt refineries and service stations. The countryside began to rise, and as it rose the landscape changed. We passed lumpy rock formations and hillsides splayed with yellow buttercups. We passed earthy stone houses built low to the ground against the high winds that could sweep over the land in winter, and we continued to rise higher. Then we leveled off for a while, and more farmlands flashed by, the earth all freshly ploughed, the horizon seemingly infinite in every direction. Then the road began to rise again, getting bumpy. All distances seem great until you cross them. Back in Istanbul, 12 hours away, Cappadocia had seemed very far away, and now here it was approaching fast, stretching out in overlapping shades of blue and grey hills. This was the land that had once belonged to the Persians, and later the Byzantians, before the Ottoman Turks came along. Even Alexander the Great had passed through here on his way to conquests further east. So it is a land of mythos, of high destiny and legend, of empires and their peoples crisscrossing the vast high hills though the ages. We stopped at a little town called Avanos and picked up more passengers. Suddenly we were really in Cappadocia. They rose up toward the sky like curving apparitions, like the ghosts you see in El Greco paintings, or Van Gogh cypress trees. Much has been said and written about these fairy chimneys, but seeing them yourself for the first time produces a strange feeling. The rock is so soft that caves ;were cut into the sides — historically they were places for outlaws or persecuted Christians to hide. Nowadays the caves have been refurbished and outfitted into hotels and bed and breakfasts. It was a very nice little town. I was so taken by the town that I decided to get off then and there and book a room. He spoke fine English, and you could tell he was used to talking to tourists. I told him I was looking to spend no more than 80 lira about 50 USD per night. Mustafa got online and began checking. But for you I make special deal, for two nights. The deal was done very quickly. Mustafa said his colleague Murat would take me up to the hotel. Murat arrived and we talked for a few minutes. We lived in California too. So which part of California are you from? If you have some, maybe we let you stay here for free! It was just a block or two away. The first room was a cave room, but there were no windows, and I knew I would want to smoke. He was balding, with a bushy mustache and he wore suspenders. The upstairs room was not a cave room, but it had a nice view of the countryside. Just open window. I bring ashtray. So — you already pay Murat? I put my bag and trumpet down. Omer had been curious as to why I had so little luggage. My own philosophy has always been to travel light. Never pack more than you feel comfortable carrying. Besides, it was only for a couple of days. She was a bosomy, cheerful woman who wore a white headscarf. She spread a red cloth over the table and brought an ashtray. I lit a cigarette, drank the tea and looked out over the terrace at the town. It was mid-day and very quiet except for the chirping of birds and the occasional car passing. It felt very good to be off the road from Istanbul and comfortably settled into a pension, and to be very far away from everything. Other guests — they are from Germany and France — arrived from Istanbul today too. They are sleeping now. I took his advice and, finishing the tea, went back upstairs. It was very bright in the room, but the bed was comfortable. I laid down and closed my eyes. After about an hour, I got up, feeling better. I could hear the imam sounding outside, the mid-afternoon prayer. I had a shower, dressed and headed out. Bright sunshine fell on the streets and in the plaza. Perhaps I would meet people. Two American girls passed in the street, on their way to a nearby pastry shop. Yes, it was best to just let things take their own course. Besides, with a woman along, I thought, they always want to walk and walk everywhere and go to all the shops, when all you really wanted to do was find a place that sold beer and had a view of the street, so you could watch the people pass by. It was right in the center of the town, with big, cushy sofas out on the terrace. I ordered a beer, feeling completely relaxed and happy, and settled back in the sofa. As the train procedes, we are introduced to many of the passengers, and we learn about their lives, as well as the history of Turkey, from the fall of the Ottomans through the First World War to the start of the Republic, with its ensuing industrialization and modernization. Reading on, I thought of our Galip, a Black Sea Turk who used to work as a maintenance guy at our school. A few months ago, just shy of retirement, he was laid off. It was sad. Galip was a really funny guy. Sometimes he would do Black Sea dances, sing folk melodies, up on the balcony at the school. We called him the komik pesivenk. Good old Galip. After a while I put the Nazim Hikmet away and looked out at the street. There were several different tours available. Or maybe they were out on balloon rides. Almost everyone who walked by spoke English, and many seemed to be Americans, but then they could have been Canadians, and there were some Germans who passed as well. Down the street, there were motorcycles and mopeds for rent. I thought about renting one. The thought of cruising along the winding, quiet roads was nice. But maybe it was better to settle in first, drink the beer and have a good meal later. The next day was Saturday and I could have all day to look around. Too often people went on holiday and spent the whole time rushing around, keeping to some impossible program, so that by the time they got home they needed a second holiday to recover from the first. The important thing was to relax and just not worry about any programs, let things happen by the mselves. A man came out and they selected two postcards and paid by bank card. They invite the drifter to join them on their boat, and almost immediately a love triangle develops, a power struggle fraught with all that great Polanski tension and psychodrama. I wondered if any of the holiday seekers in Cappadocia were caught in any love triangles. Cappadocia would make an interesting location for a thriller. Well, maybe it would. Like Murat and Mustafa, his English was nearly fluent. He said to call him Mark. I found out later he had lived in Australia, and had a girl there. You never know in the tourism business. Tomorrow this place could be packed with hundreds of people. Mark went back inside, and went back to watching the film. Just then, the Turkish national anthem sounded from somewhere down the road. I stopped and listened to it. Thinking about that reminded me of what the Polanski biography had said about the film, Knife in the Water. That would excuse the wife for being attracted to the younger man. I wondered again if Turkish artists faced similar challenges, especially with the current administration. Ah, you see what a holiday can do to you, Trez. Too much free time on your hands, you think up all kinds of rubbish. You were being too self-indulgent. A young man and woman came and sat on one of the sofas. They were from Columbia, I soon found out, and worked as airline stewards. They were on holiday. Their names were Raphael and Carmen. It should be warm enough now to get some swimming in. With the rain, it got cold, and we huddled close together on the sofa, talking in English and Spanish. It had stopped raining. After dinner, I was sleepy, so I went upstairs to my room and got into bed. Outside it had begun raining again, and it was getting dark. I read in bed for a while and then went to sleep. In the morning, it was still cold and grey. I went downstairs for the free breakfast. Afterward, I went for a walk. The young man at the hotel, Ahmet, had recommended going to Zemi Valley. It was just behind the town. The town was still very sleepy. I walked past a middle school and the bus stops and, following the signs, turned right and headed out of town down a narrow country road. The road leading to the Zemi Valley was unpaved and muddy that morning because of the overnight rain. It wound through soft meadows , with trees all around. Up in the hillsides you could see more caves, but they were uninhabited. They were too high to climb up to without any climbing equipment. I followed the muddy road on for a couple of kilometers, feeling further away from the town. There were well-kept gardens way back along the road, but there were no houses nearby. They must have been kept by the people who lived in town. Further on, the road abruptly ended. I stopped long enough though to climb a small embankment and went up to the side of the rocky hillside. The rock broke off easily in my hand, and I crushed the piece, the dust flakes falling to the ground. Later, I went up another road and found a church. It had been built out of the rock, and was conical shaped. There was a sign that indicated the church was open, but when I tried the door it was locked. There was an office up the hill, but it looked quiet. Enough of this hiking shit anyway. It was time for a beer. In the town, people seemed to be up and about. I passed several Asian tourists on the road. Some of them were heading out where I had been. I went to a shop to buy some credit for my phone. The man working at the shop said the electricity was out because of the storm. He took my money, and went across the street to another shop, leaving me to man the store. While I waited I glanced at some English newspapers that were on a rack. That seemed very far away. It had just opened. Mark and the other waiters were sitting at a table outside eating breakfast. The electricity was out at the bar too; in the toilets they had lit candles. There were no people at the bar yet except two elderly Scandanavian women, who drank coffee and talked to each other in what sounded like Finnish. The few tourists that were out were all dressed in jackets and hats. On Monday it could be packed. You never can tell. Actually, by then I was beginning to write the trip off. I could feel disappointment, although I told myself to not feel it. After all, there was peace and quiet. As Mark says, you never can tell. One thing I had learned though, it that a place like Cappadocia is not really the best place to go for one who likes to travel alone and who generally prefers life in the city. It would have been better to go to Bodrum, where at least the weather would have been better. Just then a couple of young women came and sat down at the far end of the terrace. They were looking for conversation, so we started talking, at first from opposite ends of the terrace, then they invited me to join them. Their names were Marja and Allya, and they were university students from Slovenia. This was their last day in Cappadocia. In the evening, they were getting the bus to Istanbul, and flying out on Sunday night. They had part-time jobs and had to be back at work on Monday. We just got up. So did you have a good time in Cappadocia? Did you get over to the underground city? If you have time you really should see it. We sat and talked for several hours. It began raining hard again, so much so that the whole sidewalk in front of the bar was flooded. The waiters swept the water away with brooms, and picked some of it up in buckets brought from the bar. The electricity went on and off again, leaving the terrace dark. We got chilly, so the girls consented when I offered to get us three brandies. We clinked glasses and sipped the brandy, listening to the rain. They were checking their mobile phones for updates from couchsurfing. Then we were all hungry. I suggested ordering the manti, which is famous in the region. Manti is a pasta dish served with a rich, heavy yogurt sauce. Mark agreed it was a good idea and presently brought two large bowls the girls shared one. The top of the dish was covered in spices and herbs, and you stirred the sauce so that the light butter at the bottom came up and blended with the sauce. It was delicious and very filling. Soon it was past six, and time for the girls to get their bus to Istanbul. We split the bill, exchanged warm good-byes, and each other safe travels. I walked back to the hotel. The rain had stopped. It was evening now and more people had arrived. They were buying liquor at the shops and were getting ready for a night of parties back at their hotels most likely. Back at the hotel, I had a shower. I got into bed and read for a while, and turned in early again. The next morning was Sunday, my last day. I had breakfast at the hotel, and had the porter, Ahmet, book me a ticket on the evening bus to Istanbul. There were no morning buses. All of the buses that evening were booked, but then Ahmet made a couple more calls. I got the last seat available. How far is it to the underground city? So much for the underground city then. Maybe they told everyone that. I finished breakfast, went to my room and packed. His wife gave me a small Cappadocia souvenir. With several hours to kill, I went for a walk. I walked, following the road high up to a point where there was a good view overlooking the town. What was the point in taking it along. I found a spot that seemed good enough and took the horn out. I played a little bit, enjoying how the sound carried easily and well over the valley, the soft volanic rocks adding a nice bounce and echo. I played for a few minutes, and a woman passed. She gave me a nice smile and little thumbs up, and a couple of kids on bikes passed eyeing me curiously. Then, feeling better, I put the trumpet back in its case, took a last look at the town, and headed back down the hill to the Fat Boys Bar. At the bar, Mark was very busy. Mark found a spot for me that was out of the way, and brought a beer. Presently, around lunchtime, two or three tour buses pulled in and unloaded groups of Australian and New Zealand tourists. They all came and sat down, filling up the terrace. They all ordered lunch and beer. The main reason anyway. You should get down there too if you have time. The Aussies and Kiwis came in great waves. As soon as one group finished lunch, they cleared out and jumped back on the tour bus, and another group came and replaced them. Mark and the other waiters were very busy, but very cheerful. Before I knew it, it was time to get the bus. I paid my bill and thanked Mark for his hospitality. At the bus station it was very crowded. The buses were already there and some people were still hoping to get last-minute tickets. I showed the clerk the receipt Ahmet had given me at the pension, and he printed out a ticket. Some of the other people, especially some Turkish tourists, looked at me resentfully. As I was getting ready to board the bus, I suddenly heard someone call my name. It was Raphael and Carmen, the Columbians. It was a very long ride back to Istanbul. My seat was in the very last row, in the corner. During the night, a young Turkish man squeezed next to me and fell asleep. All throughout the night, he leaned against me, snoring away. We stopped several times in the night, for rest and food. It was near dawn when we arrived back in Istanbul. I got off the bus and walked along Rihtim Caddesi. There was no traffic yet, so I walked past the ferry station, getting a look out at the Bosphorous as the sun started to come up. Again, as I had so many times before, I had that feeling of relief. Ah, Istanbul! She really is like a woman, as the poets say. But perhaps that is the point of all journeys; there is a going away, a returning, a returning to yourself, and the life that is given you to make use of and find a way to be happy in, or at least as happy as circumstances provide. Other things had happened too that I would remember later. And there was always the underground city …. Mark was right. Maybe someday I will find a reason to go back. James Tressler was a reporter for The Times-Standard. His work has also appeared in The Prague Post. He lives in İstanbul. Advertising supports our journalism. If you would prefer not to see ads, we have another option. Toggle navigation. Mount Eciyeres was shrouded in mist high over the city. The service bus was very crowded. Have you ever been to Cappadocia? My English … Cappadocia? No, I have never been. Only I see pictures. I got off the bus. A man approached me from the service bus office. What is your budget? At the pension, an elderly man was expecting me. He introduced himself. No problem. I bring you tea. They both had big backpacks. The sky had gradually been getting darker all afternoon. Tormenta grande. Presently he came back with a receipt and said my account was topped up again. I walked over to the Fat Boys Bar. Knowing they were low on cash, I offered to buy them drinks. They both smiled guiltily. You know where we are. Much gusto, James. Stay in the loop! Sign up for our Sunday edition. Lately on LoCO.

Turkey legalises controlled cannabis production in 19 provinces

Kayseri buying hash

Turkey has legalised cannabis production in 19 provinces in order to crack down on illegal production, according to new regulations by The Ministry of Food, Agriculture and Livestock. Under the regulations, growers must obtain permission from the government allowing them to grow the plant for a three-year-period, Turkish newspaper The Hurriyet reports. Potential growers must produce a warrant proving they have not been involved in any illegal cannabis production activity or narcotic production or use in the past. Ministry officials will also check cannabis fields each month before the start of the harvest season, and monitor them for any signs of illegal activity, T24 News reports. The regulations stipulate that authorised growers must dispose of all parts of the cannabis plant after the harvest period to prevent any being sold on as a psychoactive drug. Consuming cannabis recreationally is illegal in Turkey. Possessing, purchasing or receiving any illegal drug, including cannabis, is punishable by up to two years in prison. Sale and supply of illegal drugs is punishable by prison terms of up to 10 years and unlicensed production or trafficking by a minimum term of 10 years. Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies. Want to bookmark your favourite articles and stories to read or reference later? Start your Independent Premium subscription today. Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged in Please refresh your browser to be logged in. Stay up to date with notifications from The Independent Notifications can be managed in browser preferences. Not now Yes please. For free real time breaking news alerts sent straight to your inbox sign up to our breaking news emails Sign up to our free breaking news emails. Please enter a valid email address. I would like to be emailed about offers, events and updates from The Independent. Read our privacy policy. Thanks for signing up to the Breaking News email. More about Turkey Cannabis. Join our commenting forum Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies Comments. Already subscribed? Log in. Thank you for registering Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged in Please refresh your browser to be logged in. Electric vehicles. Forgotten your password? Want an ad-free experience? View offers.

Kayseri buying hash