If I could have entered my admin page for the past few months I would have wrote about:

— Leyla Gencer’s funeral: the first time I witnessed the scattering of ashes to the Bosphorus. You would have thought it would be a cliché in this city but because there is no way out of a religious funeral in this country it rarely happens. Plus the choir singing at Dolmabahce by the sea during the funeral was heavenly and made me decide there should be a concert right at that spot, at least once in a while.

— Our trip to Holland: Staying at a flat on the red light district with prostitutes as neighbours and the incredible Hilversum: suburban gothic in the Netherlands style.

— Demonstration and march against the closing of Lambda: which is the one and only lgbtt (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transsexual) organisation at Istanbul. The courts have decided that the organisation is against “moral values”. Since the march was from Taksim to Odakule on Istiklal street, basically on a route I walk every day, there was much to tell that could be made to bear on what I had already mentioned.

— Mine’s fortieth birthday party: the party was at a place that has just opened at Cihangir (where I live) and had a name and a theme: “Every body wants to become Mine” which meant you were supposed to come dressed like Mine and since she has a very distinctive style that she has not altered the least, in the last 20 years I have known her, this actually was not that difficult and created a very weird doppelganger effect.

— The book I read: The Stone Gods by Jeannette Winterson. Winterson is a genius; but I already knew that. Now she has gone and written a poetic and romantic novel about a subject, you know needs to be addressed, but also think is impossible to address, at least, not without becoming cliché and boring and pretentious etc: the end of the world through both war and global warming. Beautifully written wonderfully and intricately structured.

— The stand-up show of Esmeray: I finally saw the notorious stand-up show of Esmeray who is a M2F pre-opt transsexual, as part of the gay pride week festivities at the French Cultural Center. She basically tells her life that starts in a village at Kars and continues in Istanbul with the compulsory prostitution and the unexpected party politics. It was both funny and sad and thought provoking.

— The LGBTT Party at Ghetto: managed to catch one of the many parties that was thrown during the gay pride week. This one had DJ Ipek who, I have come to believe ,manages to spin out the most danceable music I have ever heard. The party was also notable for Seyhan’s outrageous costumes. I especially enjoyed the white one in which she went around the entire dance hall and looked down on people with her icy queen pose. Also of notice was Baran’s strip-tease show which was definitly the best strip-tease I have ever seen.

— The Gay Pride Parade: I refused to wear a hat since hat and eyeglasses give the impression that you are not “out and proud” but rather trying to hide and of course it was very hot so I nearly got a sun stroke. But apart from that it was FUN!!!! We screamed our hearts out and walked from Taksim to Odakule.

And the last two, which is watching Ismail Necmi’s film at his studio and the zazen session we had with two Zen master’s that came all the way from San Fransisco to our house, I will try to write as separate entries.

a busy spring day

My day started with a visa appointment at 08.00 at the Netherlands consulate. Thankfully the consulate is at Beyoglu on a small cul-de-sac off Istiklal, which means, its walking distance from our house. Beyoglu is where the night life thrives so it is always very weird to walk through it early in the morning. Most of the shops on Istiklal had not opened yet and it was quite empty. We (Seda and me) breakfast at Lebon, which is an ‘old school’ patisserie where service is done by very polite old man who have been doing this for ages and make you feel welcome and relaxed and it has delicious pastries fresh from the oven in the morning.
Then we went through the ordeal of visa application. The point of the entire process is designed to make it so difficult and humiliating that you will think twice before you ever want to go to the country in question ever again. Even better it is designed to make you give up during the very process deeming it not worth it. But of course I have done this so many times, at so many consulates, that I can do it without getting bothered, though I am not sure this callous attitude is something to be proud of.
Then as is the case every Tuesday I went to Santral in a taxi with Gozde, Bulent and Iskender. Iskender and Bulent teach courses that start at 11.00, while mine starts at 12.00, and Gozde comes to listen in on my lectures. We arrive around 10.30 and have a coffee and a nice chat before we go our separate ways.
After Bulent and Iskender had gone I got a phone call from Efe who was my student last year and directed me in the cameo role of a vampire last week. He said they were about to screen the film and asked me if I would like to join. So off we went with Gozde to see the short mocumentary about contemporary vampire culture in Istanbul. The film was hilarious and I laughed heartily throughout. Very witty and perfectly acted, it even contained a critique of the ethics of documentary filmmaking, the way all mocumentaries should. Then came my own lecture, which lasted three hours. After the lecture I went to Otto with Gozde. Otto is a very hip Italian restaurant, which for some reason is located inside the campus. We had risotto (my favourite dish) and homemade pasta, while Gozde convinced me that we should go to Galerist. Galerist is a gallery located in one of the most beautiful buildings on Istiklal called Misir Apartmani (which literally translates as the Egypt Building). Gozde failed to remember the name and the artist of the exhibition that had started there but assured me that it was something I would like to go to. So go we did. We ended walking up the fabulous staircase, since the lift seemed to be stuck on the seventh floor.
It turns out it was a Juergen Teller exhibition called Nurnberg. The photographs were great but few in numbers and frankly I am not convinced that they should be printed as small as they had been. It was more of a ‘teaser’ to an exhibition than an exhibition proper. My favourite photo was “Kristen lifting skirt” and the accompanying “Mein Schloss”. I loved the entire “Liliy” series as well. But can’t say I enjoyed the humour behind the self-portraits.
Walking back to Cihangir where both me and Gozde live we went past “Mor”, which is a little jewellery shop that I frequent a lot. In fact I buy all my rings and necklaces from there. I had both a necklace last mount but a bead had fallen off and since we were passing by and I had the necklace on, we popped in. I left the necklace there to be repaired. It felt wierd to go in a shop and leave an accessory behind.
Quite exhausted, I spent the evening watching the third season of “Desperate Housewives” on DVD, with Seda (love of my life). Tomorrow I have two meetings I have to attend and at night I am going to the Kaki King concert. Gencay thinks it will be like a night at “The Planet”. For those of you who do not watch “The L Word”, “The Planet” is the lesbian café/bar/club in that TV series. Of course that’s just wishful thinking on his part. Just because the performer is a lesbian will not turn the event into a lesbian night. In fact it is a concert organised by the Turkish Rolling Stone. Yesim who works for the magazine, and who is a dear friend and a fellow film critic, has left my name at the door so I don’t have to worry about getting tickets. I hope I will find time to tell you about the concert tomorrow.

the 1st of may is not over yet

At 15.30 another group came running into our street. This time people were running in panic and dashing into any building they could enter. Immediately after they scattered out of sight two gas bombs were thrown to one entrance of the street, while on the other side police started to mill about. Then they built a barricade. Seda took their picture, looking very intimidating with their gas masks.

breaking news from the 1st of may events

OK so the events have come literally to our doorstep.
First we started to hear the slogans around 13.00. Then at 13.30 we learned that nine of our friends among which are Gencay, Aykan and Inanc (all of whom I have already mentioned at this blog on various occasions) were taken into custody. They are now inside some police buses on an entirely different part of the city. They say there is something like 10 busloads of people like them and believe the police will let them go come nightfall. They haven’t taken away their cell phones and we can talk with them.
Then at 14.15 the sounds became deafening and as we went to look we saw people in groups running into our street; running away from the police by the looks of it, though we saw none. As we were looking out of the window two of our friends, Gozde and Nadir (both have been mentioned before on various occasions) passed underneath our window and waved to us as they did. (How weird is that?) We asked if they would like to come up but they were determined to go on. Then the smoke came and before I could even say, “beware pepper gas”, both Seda and me inhaled it. We closed the windows immediately as our nostrils began to burn. There is also a red spot on my hand that itches and all this from minimal exposure.
The crowd has passed our street now. But by the looks of it, people are all over the place in groups of 50 or so, scattering and remerging where they can. It is far from over.

Taksim Square on the 1st of May

So it’s the first of May and the weather outside is beautiful, a perfect spring morning. I am sitting in my study with the windows open and listening to the birds chirping as I write. The peaceful quite is shattered every now and then with the sound of a helicopter overhead or the sound of police sirens in the distance.
I live very near Taksim Square: 10 minutes rapid walk, 15 minutes maximum if you really take it slow. Taksim Square is closed down and the entire police force of the city, plus some from the neighbouring cities, is there en masse. They are “defending” the Square from the workers who want to reach it. To the best of my knowledge pepper gas and water have prevented them from doing so until now. However my knowledge is very limited since I do not have a television. I check the internet for news updates every now and then. A lot of my friends intended to join the demonstration attempt and I am worried.
It is weird to be so close and so far away but it would have felt even weirder to sit so close and watch the events from television. Despite everything, this is exactly the kind of time when I am happy that I don’t have access to TV. Officially today is not a holiday however the entire city is closed down, no ferries, no schools, no one going to work. Seda is watching “Desperate Housewives” on DVD and I am reading Patrick Califia’s book: “Speaking Sex to Power”. I am aware that this seems a form of escapism and I also know friends who would consider our activities of this morning a scandal.
I am not going to go into detail about the reasons behind my determination not be caught up in what is obviously a deliberate attempt to build tension to the point of catastrophe. Or how I regard being glued to the TV, learning what’s going on around the corner from the dubious news, as the worst form of escapism, a flight into paralysing anxiety, a form of vampirism. Nor do I feel the need to elaborate on why I think there is no point in joining the demonstrators unless you are part of an organisation and my belief that only organised forms of resistance has any meaning. These are prickly subjects that create never-ending arguments, which in the end are futile. Suffice to say that this is the first time I have let a news item become the subject of my blog, although I was tempted a while ago, when Pippa Bacca was raped and murdered. I have a strong urge to think and express my thoughts on things when they are not the pressing news item and when there is not too much emotion involved. So I hope to come back to elaborate on such points when people will seem to have forgotten all about them and 38 years of life has given me ample evidence that forget they will and sooner rather than later.

Sundance or heaven on earth

For those of you who have started to wonder why there are no new entries the explanation is quite simple: I have been away from Istanbul (I still am) and, since this blog is entitled “out and about at Istanbul”, I thought it would be inappropriate to write from, and about, elsewhere. But today I decided going away from Istanbul is actually an indispensable part of living at Istanbul. There is no way you can bear the crazy city life if you don’t run away to nature every now and then. Since, as of today, there is three friends from Istanbul that are right where I am, not including me and Seda (love of my life), I guess I have been proven right in my theory.
I am at a place called Sundance Nature Village at the Mediterranean coast. I come here at least three times a year, but I have to admit, April is the best time of the year to be here. To give you an indication of what manner of place it is let me tell you what I did today.
I woke at eight and took a stroll in the meadows that are covered with daisies and poppies in this season. Then I had breakfast with Seda in the garden on a wooden table on the grass, right by the river, where it meets with the sea. Then I went horseback riding for an hour. Then with Seda and Selen (who is both a music scholar and a jazz pianist) I went hiking in the woods for an hour. The hike took us to Phaselis, which is an ancient city, and the ruins of it are quite spectacular. As is usually the case with ancient civilizations it is situated at the most beautiful part of the entire coastline. We went swimming there and had lunch. Then we walked back, this time taking a short cut, which entailed a bit of climbing that took us to a hilltop with an amazing view both of the Sundance bay and the Phaselis bay. When we came back we were surprised to find another friend had just arrived: Mine who is another music scholar. We were tired so we took a nap in the gardens on the grass. While we were having cake and tea we were surprised with the arrival of yet another friend, Gulriz who is an ex-student now working for me. Last but not least I took another one- hour horse ride through the woodland that ended with a gallop on the beach. After shower I started writing this.
Is this a typical day? Well the horse riding is certainly a twice-daily occurrence. Swimming is not as frequent in this season. Admittedly we don’t go to Phaselis every day and thus don’t have this long a hike everyday either. But yes more or less this is how we spend our time here. The woods, the meadows covered in flowers, the sea… I do believe it is heaven on earth.

on endogamy or a very wierd ‘intellectual’ event

I participated in a very weird event last night. Let me try to explain what it was. Now there is this writer, songwriter, singer, scholar person called Bulent Somay who happens to be my ex-boyfriend (yes, yes once upon a time I had boyfriends as well as girlfriends. Now I am over it, so shall we move on already?) The event consisted of six different people reading excerpts from his books and Bulent singing songs that he has also written about in between the readings. Now I am aware that there is a type of event where a writer reads from his own books. At least, I know there is in other parts of the world, we don’t have that kind of tradition in Turkey. I also happen to know of events organised in memory of a dead author where various people read parts of his omnibus. I have never heard of this being done to a writer while he is alive and kicking and actually present in the same place at the same time. At least, I had never heard of it until a few months ago when one such event was organised for my friend Fatih. I didn’t go to that one and frankly had I not been invited to actually participate by reading; I doubt I would have attended this one either. I am not sure who actually attends these events: Is it just friends or do anonymous readers actually come to spend their Saturday night at an event like this. I really don’t know. What I do know is that the place was full last night, mostly with Bulent’s friends and students.
The event took place in Garaj Istnabul a multi purpose performance venue where there is a different event, performance, play, and concert every night that opened a year ago. I have been meaning to go there from day one but never found the opportunity until last night. So that was certainly one of the pluses of getting involved with this. The way to reach the venue is very entertaining: you enter a garage (literally) and go down among cars that are being washed repaired or just parked to reach a back door made of metal and when you open that you reach a back street and turn left to enter the venue. Of course you can also reach the same spot through the twisting back streets of Beyoglu but interestingly enough this route is easier to explain to those who don’t live at Beyoglu plus it is an experience, “a happening” all on its own. Although there are signs, encouraging you to move on, it is difficult to believe that you are really meant to go underground in a garage to get to the kind of event you are aiming for and there is a ‘magical’ feel to emerging on the other side to a cobblestone little street.
So who were the “readers” apart from me? First was Mehmet Ali Alabora who is an actor in television series and from what I gather quite famous although I don’t know him because I haven’t watched television for over ten years now. I do, however, know that he was one of the presenters (or are they called hosts?) at the Istanbul Film Festival opening night that I related in a previous blog entry. I am also told by Seda (love of my life) that he is related to a actor friend of ours, Ali, who is also an ex-student of mine. Anyway I guess he was the only real celebrity among us and thus he did his reading on stage. Then there was Ayse who is a very accomplished jazz pianist and one of the most intelligent people of my acquaintance. She is also one of Bulent’s ex-girlfriends. (If you already think there is way too many ex-girl friends in this just you wait as the plot thickens) Ayse was in one of her ‘fun’ moods, and when she is, she makes me laugh continuously which she proceeded to do the moment I went backstage to join her and Timucin who is another “reader” for the night. Timucin plays the percussions, though this is not his only occupation in life. He is also the husband of another one of Bulent’s ex-girlfriends, Meltem. Wait a second Meltem is in fact not an ex-girlfriend but rather an ex-wife. And to thicken the plot beyond comprehension let me tell you that Timucin is also the ex-boyfriend of Muge, who is the owner of the publishing house, which publishes Bulent’s books. (I will comment on all this in a moment but there is still more complications to come so bear with me) Another “reader” was Iskender who is Ayse’s ex-boyfriend and my ex-therapist and last but not least there was Ferda who is a famous philosophy scholar and the Foucault expert in Turkey and who to the best of my knowledge is not an ex of anyone!
If all this sounds extremely incestuous let me tell you that I do too. The only comment I have on this is that in Turkey “intellectuals” are a very rare bread and there is so few of them that when some one reaches 50 smtg like Bulent has done you end up having accumulated a lot of ‘ex’s that tend to be a panorama of the entire intellectual scene. The same is true for the gay scene, which in fact partially overlaps with the intellectual scene. This does not mean that the whole situation isn’t a field trip for a psychoanalyst. All the same, since there are those who claim to be psychoanalysts among this mess, it isn’t up to me to make the analysiss.
Bulent had chosen our excerpts with some sort of connection between the reader and the text and I read a piece on perversion and lesbianism! Despite the fact that everything about the event was weird, I have to admit that all the readers had perfect pronunciation and intonation and where nice to listen to. The best by far was Ayse who sort of performed the pieces rather than reading them and had the slightest bit of mockery in her voice throughout like she didn’t quite buy what she was reading, which I know is the case. (Back stage she asked Bulent if she could caught when she reached an argument she did not agree with and I said if that was a possibility I would have a coughing fit throughout) Since her excerpts were from articles Bulent had written about songs, whenever she came to a quotation of the lyrics, she sang rather than read and of course there is no way anyone can beat that kind of performance.
Mehmet Ali, Timucin and Ayse did their reading from the stage. Me, Iskender and Ferda sat among the audience and read from where we sat with our headset microphones and the ‘robot lights’ finding us the moment we started to speak. The whole thing was certainly an experience.
When the performance part was over I had to go away immediately to a catch the end tail of a friends birthday dinner party at Zubeyir Ocakbasi (“Ocakbasi” is a traditional meat restaurant where you go to eat, “much meat” as my friend Alisa used to say, and drink much raki, the traditional spirit, that goes to your head immediately) and this meant going from one end of Beyoglu to the other at 11.30 pm, which is always quite an experience on a Saturday night since there is a traffic jam of pedestrians!!!
The things that happened once I reached my destination, is a horse of a different colour and another blog entry altogether.

presenting a festival director

The festival opened on Friday, there was the exhibition opening cocktail party on Saturday and on Sunday there was the presentation I had to attend. After going around asking everyone what exactly I was supposed to do I learned, at the very last minute, that first I was to just say “there will be a question and answer session after the film with the films director and please join me in welcoming him blah blah” and after the film the audience members were to ask questions which I had to translate. If they failed to ask I would motivate by asking my own questions.
Basically this was a translation job and I have no idea why I was doing it. I mean it was not as if I was putting to use any of my knowledge as a film critic and scholar for it, except may be to the extent that I knew film terminology in both languages very well. The thing went smoothly.
I have translated three books in my life one fiction and two non-fiction and let me tell you that I hate translating. I find it the most tedious job in the world where you end up thinking on a sentence longer than its writer ever did and it is never worth the effort. However this kind of translation was very easy and I enjoyed it thoroughly. I must admit, especially when people referred to other directors or films, I thought someone who did not already know these names could never have been able to get what was going on let alone repeat the names, so maybe after all there is some small wisdom in making us do it, although admittedly we, film critics and scholars, are over qualified for this job.
The result: Provided there is some adequate monetary compensation, I wouldn’t mind doing all the presentations. Though I guess this would necessitate being at different places at the same time and why should the festival pay when they are getting us to do it for free? The real result: never again!
Of course I got to see my first festival film because of this presentation and this is good because if I don’t start early on I usually end up not going to any movie during the festival. I mean there was a time back in my youth when I went to four, even five, movies a day for two weeks straight. I did mention I was very fucked up in my youth, didn’t I? Well this was one of the symptoms, as far as I am concerned. But even then I had an excuse: I wrote what I saw, I was even writing a festival journal for a newspaper at one point. Plus, back then, the festival was the only opportunity to see some films. Whereas now, thanks to DVD and the downloading capabilities of the internet, there is no such animal. And yes my home theatre system beats most of the film theatres of the festival.
All of my fellow film critics still try to see as many films as possible during the festival and it seems so does the university youth (or a predictable portion of it). I knew back then, as I do now, that this is more about the allure of a social activity, ‘festivity’ actually, then the urge to see movies. And the ‘festive’ aspect holds less allure for me as time goes by. I have enough confidence to socialise with people without any pretext and am capable of organising private festivities to my own liking when I happen to get the urge. I cannot get a feeling of contentment by merely saying, “I have seen 25 films” like I used to. In fact given the unavoidable ratio: out of any 25 film 15, at least, will be crap; I would feel I have wasted precious time of my life in which I could have been doing something worthwhile. Let me not get carried away with the ‘getting old’ shit however.
The film was called “The Speed of Life” and I had chosen to present its director for 3 reasons: a) it was an American independent movie and this usually means a predictably nice little film about eccentric characters. b) American independent directors are usually people that are exactly like you and me, with whom you can have a decent conversation, even become friends with, as I have learned from my experience with Bill Morrison c) the film was shot using a myriad of formats ranging from high 8 to VHS d) the film had won the queer lion award at the Venice film festival. The last meant that the director might be gay but it turned out he wasn’t and actually it is quite a bit of a stretch to call this a queer film.
It was, however, a pleasant movie and I enjoyed it a lot. However, since it was shown in ‘digibeta format’, I would have watched it in way better conditions, if I had watched it at home. The director Ed Radtke turned out to be a very easy going and entertaining chap whom I am happy to have known, we went to grab a drink after the session and had a nice little chat. So, my belief that American independent directors are cool people, has been strengthened.

opening night of the istanbul film festival

To pick up exactly where I left in my last entry:
First we got on the tram to Kabatas and took a taksi which let us out near ‘the open air theatre’ which in theory is sort of the back door of where we were thrying to reach since by claming a set of stairs you get there. However in practice the stairs were closed due to some sort of construction going on god knows what. Istanbul is a city of perpetual construction especially pavements and roads keep being constructed all over again (it is NOT maintenance it is destructing the whole thing and rebuilding from scratch every year) which meant, with a great many people who thought they were being street wise by taking the back door, we had to walk the entire bloc to reach the front entrance, thank god I don’t wear high heels like many of our fellow commuters had done.
Anyway the press with their cameras were lining the entrance and we made a dive inside. The first person we saw was the head of the film festival Azize who of course is also the hostess of the event. She was wearing this beige lace affair and looked surprisingly fresh for someone who must been living a hectic life that was about to get worse.
Then we saw Selim who is a member of the grand jury this year and also has an exhibition within the festival whose opening was the next day and which I hope will be able to relate as well. We had to go inside pretty quickly since unlike Selim and a happy few our seats had no numbers and we had to find a place to sit if we hoped to see anything on stage. We managed to find a place at the middle though quite up at the back.
We saw Ozelm and Didem whom I know since I was a kid from Aktur Bodrum the place I used to spend all my summers when I was a kid. Many, many years later Ozlem became a MA student of mine. Didem is her sister and I saw that she was very pregnant. Since the baby was going to be a Gemini we chatted about this sign. Ozlem said Didem should have known better since their mom was a Gemini and I said I understand them completely since mine is too. Never pass an opportunity to complain about your mother is my motto even if it is only through horoscope signs.
Then I saw Muge who is the owner of a prestigious publishing house: Metis who had come with Fatmagul a famous feminist scholar. I saw Ertan who is a journalist I know from when I used to work for Radical, a daily leftish newspaper and whom nowadays almost single-handedly does all the work of the arts page including a gossip column. True to form he asked me if it was true that I was scripting a new “law” for film critics to adhere to and I answered in the affirmative by displaying my surprise that he had heard.
Then the ‘event’ itself started. It is not much of an event really. I mean it surprisingly resembles our very own SIYAD awards with Eczacibasi, the patron of art whose money sponsors the entire festival, replacing Atilla Dorsay, the doyen of film critics in Turkey. There is the life time achievement awards, there is the photos of the prominent cinema people who died the previous year, there is the music etc. The structure is the same.
I wonder what will happen when our great Yesilcam (Turkish Hollywood although this is a thing of the past here that no longer exists) stars all die out. These are the people that get the life time achievement awards and bring a touch of sparkle to these events, there is not a single actor that is even remotely comparable to them in star quality. In this particular instance the awards were given by Turkan Soray to Ekrem Bora, Ediz Hun and Izzet Gunay. And one last award was given to Claudia Cardinale. In short the event was a rhapsody of nostalgia and I suspect this is to please Eczacibasi who seems to be inviting all the old stars of his youth in a row each year.
Then there was a break before the opening film and we went outside having no intention of returning. The place is not a film theatre and does not provide the best viewing conditions. Plus we were hungry as it happens in these events that start too early to eat and end too late to eat.
And that’s when the socialising started. We saw Umit, a director friend who also happens to be Gencay’s ex boyfriend. We saw Selen an actress and singer friend of ours, who desperately wants to be a star. We saw Bige who looked like a star. We saw Hasmet, my only friend from university that I am still friends with whose documentary film will be screened at the festival, we saw Nilgun, a journalist friend I know from back when I used to work at Cumhuriyet. We saw Gulum, an ex student who works at the festival but is actually a good actress that has yet to make a break. We saw Ovgu, a fellow film critic and scholar. We saw Volga an ex-student who turned out to be quite a character actor. We saw Ferhat another ex-student who is about to move to Japan and become a father, not necessarily in that order.
Then we made a decision worthy of applause and decided to join Bige and Banu who were going to have dinner at Borsa restaurant, a very fancy meat restaurant, which is under the same roof as Lutfu Kirdar. All the award winners and jury members and what not were also going there for the festival’s official dinner, so not only the food but also the ‘view’, was quite good. Banu and Bige were wonderful dinner companions and we ended up having a much better time then we had bargained for. After dinner there were two parties to pick and choose from: the festival party at Karakoy Liman, would have all the celebrities but would be suitably boring and then there was the gay party for the exhibition at Tonic which would be fun since, let’s admit it, gays know how to party better than anyone. But then we had each other, Seda and I, and we were already content and entertained and much preferred to go home for a little private entertaining of our own.

Opening of the lgbtt exhibition

First we (me and Seda, love of my life) had to go to Karakoy where the tiny alternative gallery Hafriyat is located to attend the opening of the lambda (the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transsexual organisation of Istanbul) exhibition, then we had to attend the opening night of The Istanbul Film Festival.
This was a bit of a tricky business in terms of transportation. Interestingly Karakoy is walking distance from our house and even Lutfu Kirdar, the place where the festival was to open, can be reached on foot from our house, though admittedly, a longer walk then to the gallery. I must have mentioned in a previous entry how centrally our house is situated. However to get from Karakoy to Lutfi Kirdar in time, especially during rush hour, is another business altogether. Especially since you had to consider the fact as the festival was going to be broadcasted live on the national television, you had to be there on time or you wouldn’t be able to get in. We didn’t have a plan, we only knew we couldn’t say long at the exhibition.
We had a bit of a problem getting dressed. This is what occasionally happens with two women living together. Even if you are going to just wear jeans and shirt you might end up agitating each other and turning the whole thing into a big deal but we managed to go out in time and walked down to Karakoy.
The gallery is on a street that is jammed with traffic at that hour and because it is tiny most of the people were out on the pavement. So it was a weird picture: the exhibition people crowded on the pavement drinking from plastic cubs while commuters crowded in buses looked down on them.
Plus there was a performance happening, a part of which, was also on the pavement. The performance was by ‘Ciplak Ayaklar Kumpanyasi’, which translates as ‘Naked Feet Company’. There was one man, with literally naked feet, sitting on the pavement with a bucket on his head and a gismo that sent drops of water on the bucket. (I believe this is what is known as Chinese torture) There was a woman in the same situation right inside the gallery and one on the upper floor.
The place inside, as well as out on the pavement, was packed full with people and inside it was quite claustrophobic. In fact I believe the situation inside the bus on the street and that inside the gallery quite mirrored one another and we shared the experience of claustrophobia with the performers under their buckets. Since it was a huge problem even to move, we very soon realised, we won’t be looking at the artwork and decided not to try and that we would come back some other time for it.
Actually people were, for the most part, ignoring the performers as well as the the other works and I was reminded of some of Maria Abromovich’s performances and how she was rescued, from near death, by attentive spectators. No such luck for our performers if they happened to have any medical problems.
The first friend we saw was Inanc who directed us towards Aykan, Gencay, Cicek and Bawer. They were all eating penis shaped ginger cookies, which I believe must be some sort of edible art. Bawer introduced me to a woman saying, “this is Aykan’s mother and she is teaching us how to eat a penis”. The woman gave me a cookie and said they are quite nice; I took one saying “not that I would know”. It turned out she was indeed Aykan’s mother. Aykan is the curator of the exhibition and has one work exhibited as well, though we never got to see it.
Since it was impossible to move around and since Cicek was leaving already we didn’t stay long and joined her, thinking we might as well start our journey towards our other appointment. As we walked, we met another friend Zeynep, who was just arriving unaware of what kind of crowd awaited her at the gallery.