Kayseri airport is virtually empty when you arrive. There is one member of staff sitting amongst the impressively large collection of suitcases in the lost property office, and three security guards checking tickets at the door.
“How are we getting to the hostel?” Your friend asks. You both make your way to the front of the airport and watch as everyone around you gets into taxis.
You smell them before you see them: two young boys huffing glue from a crumpled plastic bag.
Earlier, you tried to visit Galata Tower and got lost in Beyoğlu instead. It’s a sprawl of streets set on a thigh-burningly steep hillside, and the towering apartment buildings quash any hope of using the witch’s hat roof of the Genoese tower to navigate.
You and a friend are sitting on a bench outside a supermarket, enjoying the longest night of the year. Rats scuttle through the litter in the hedge behind you, and a balloon drifts into space on the warm air currents.