Not even a slight drizzle could keep me away from Siirt Seref.
I did not walk all the way from Seyidoglu on a full stomach just to be turned off into coming. Along the way, I found a great jacket at De Facto, changed some Euros at one of the most bloodsucking moneychangers whose rate was worse than the airport, made a little girl smile , bumped into a family in despair who sought refuge at a small camii, and came across an old man waving what I think was a Kurdish flag. By the time we reach the Valens Aqueduct, it is around 5:30 pm. The row of cay sippers are nowhere to be found .
