Flowings of Your Everlasting Taffyman

fucking frustrated with internet and i rellay have to pee
so heres a story i wrote a few hours ago when i didnt have internet
sorry its boring


We took the small bus to a random road in the middle of nowhere… a small chain of what look liked abandoned stores on our right, complete with what must have been 5 trucks unloading goods or garbage and a few small cars. On the left nothing that seemed of importance, and the road that ran perpendicular to the “highway” had a sign that read “Petara 4” and pointed that same seaward direction. Our suitcases weren’t light, well one was, but that’s besides the point. We looked round in dismay, but knowing the beach and relaxation were our destination –we set out on the path ahead.
And then stopped when a man asked if we wanted a taxi.
“How much?”
“10 lira.”
This amount seemed exorbitant considering our bus tickets to this spot (an hours journey on the highway) had only been 15 lira…
“To the beach?” we asked…
“Yes yes I have taxi, 10 lira.”
“Well?” I asked of my companions, not wanting to walk the distance but not wanting to pay the price either…
“It is my vacation.” Rachel said… and with that we were standing by the road waiting for him to pick us up in his rather simple car…
He threw our bags in the trunk, all three jutting out, keeping the trunk from closing.
We sat in the back seat, which was littered with junk and wiper blades…
We hugged our backpacks and watched the scenery go by.
The driver waved and honked at every person he saw, with a big grin. He was either popular, or proving his worth to the towns people, and they smiled back accepting his good fortune. In a flash we were through the small town and back in to the wilderness, scattered with ancient ruins: a bridge, a gate, some houses, a cemetery, a stone seated theater in the hillside –all the cows and bees domain now, with the exception of the lazy cat who relaxed in the shade that sunny afternoon.

We had past a checkpoint signaling our entry in to the park but the park consisted of very little but a rock parking lot (scattered with cars) a pay toilet with a bored man watching our approach, some abandoned shacks, and a phone booth with no phone.
We paid the man and he took off smiling, having made his quota for the day.
And so we walked the wooden board walkway, our heavy wheeled suitcases, click, click, clicking away at our heels. The white soft and fine sand began, and on both sides we were flanked by desert brush.
At the empty guard booth we stopped. The small crash of blue and white 100 meters in front of us…. We saw beach chairs, and Jessica decided to pay at the small café to the left… 15 lira… this day was becoming expensive, we were halfway to our final destination and we hadn’t even eaten yet. We carried our suitcases over the fine sand beach, and proceeded to lie out…
I took my shoes and socks off.
I hadn’t felt sand between my toes in years. The heat of the day was brushed away by a gentle but strong ocean breeze… the blue was relaxed, but in its crash it swept sand and crabs 10 feet in our direction and I couldn’t keep from hopping around in it -for to check the temperature…

It was time to relax... easier said than done. We laid on the white beach loungers, and tried to get comfortable… realizing the sun was soon to be at its peak, we rubbed the cream upon the parts we thought important…
I rolled up my pants to expose the whitest of calves to the fiercest of suns… and regretted it later.
In our jokes you could sense the desire to be at ease…
I laid on my stomach, my face digging into the awkward construction, un-sun-blocked elbows pressed outward to create a makeshift pillow with hands.
Twenty minutes went by, and I awoke as if after a days rest…. But found the sun roughly in the same position and my companions agitated with their inability to let go…
We watched the white line rushing in on us, and noticed the disturbance in the sand.
“Crabs!”
They were left by the water and upon their beach ascent ran towards land like some sort of lost half dead and weary shipwreck survivor.
We grabbed for our cameras and began to slowly edge toward them… but then they were gone… with a blink leaving only small holes and displaced sand.
We were awed at their capabilities but personally I was a bit disturbed by the thought that crabs lay beneath my vulnerable feet and so as the thought built on me, I returned to my beach chair thinking my camera was good enough to expose the spider like creatures from afar.

Several hours passed, as I dreamed in the sun. The girls ran off on little adventures around the beach, and a few families of like minded tourists showed up and played in the rather cold water.
Jessica ran in for a second… but decided that drying time was more important than splashing time.

At 2:00 we were done with our relaxation… three hours in the sun felt like eternity to our silly city personalities and we de-sanded our toes, and dressed our burns and returned to the rock lot.
“What now?” we asked near a pile of trash…
A man offered to call for a small bus, and told us it would be about 5 lira in total.
I agreed while the girls went off to take pictures of the ruins… when they returned, we decided that we could walk the path and meet the bus, but it never showed and near the town, past the cows and ruins and fields of flowers we were passed by a man in car who decided to stop and offer us a ride.
We were thankful, but couldn’t say much, sweating on his seats and listening to his distorted radio. He asked where we were headed and we could only say “the road.”
He asked our direction.
“Cas”
“ah… I go to _____.” some city we could not pronounce and had never heard of, but found out it was three stops before Cas, and he offered to take us there... but we declined having stories of horror in our heads about hitchhiking. At the road, he dropped us, we said thanks and he took off without further engagement.
We stood as the men sat making jokes and playing board games in the shade.
There wasn’t much of a café, a man pointed out the toilet, which was easily discernable by the smell, and others unloaded dirty fruit and vegetables from trucks. The cars on the “highway” flew by, but buses were clearly visible in the distance, and we waved one down. The man negotiated (in order to get his own free fare) and we accepted a price of 3.5 a piece which became a simple 10 when the driver didn’t have change.

This bus was fairly uneventful…
We arrived and Cas and were descended upon by a man who wouldn’t say no, and though we feared that he was untrustworthy he actually did offer us a great deal… and so we accepted.
The room was pleasant and private. Perfect for our needs, with shower and power outlets available.
We checked out the town, ate kebabs and tried to make phone calls.
We walked upon the painted wall that divided the sea from the small harbor, the cats moving swiftly on the rocks around us when we stopped to take pictures.
Ice cream was quick and simple and we returned after a visit to the grocery store, burned and beaten by the day. Filling up on juice and comedy. showers…
Falling asleep to roosters and fighting cats in alleyways below.
We dreamed pleasant dreams not realizing the comedy to come the next day… German hippies, swerving overfilled buses, Muslim etiquette, losing ourselves in Antalya.