ode to Beyoglu or the free zone I call home

After the SIYAD (Turkish Film Critics Association) Awards on Monday night when we came back to Taksim square and finally ate something after six hours of hunger, at midnight, at the famous dinner Bambi, which happens to have the same name as the famous Disney character, we (Seda –love of my life – and me) wanted to go home and crash since both of us had to lecture in the morning. Cenk and his friend who spent the night assuming the imaginary personas of Carlo and Bruno, the foreign producers who came to Istanbul to sniff out some lucrative talent to exploit, wanted to go to the after party at the club Dirty which is owned by Deniz, a (actually I should say ‘the’) fellow member of the governing board of SIYAD.

However being sad people who live on the Asian side of the Bosporus they were not quite sure where the club is. So I started to describe: “You know Yesilcam street? It is the street on which both Emek and Sinepop cinemas are located the one where there is that huge construction sight at the moment? Well on the opposite side of that street, is a street that has the Garanti gallery on one corner and a shop that sells Converses on the other corner. Thats the street you should enter. It’s a very short street with uninviting bars on the left and the Majestic cinema’s entrance on the right. Whenyou reach the end turn right. The new street you have thus entered is a ‘cul de sac’ that ends with the back door of the Atlas cinema it is the door from which you exit the cinema when the films are over. It is also the street where Yeni Melek is situated: surely you must have gone to some concerts there.” I would have gone on, although I am sure they had got the picture by then, just for the fun of it. However Cenk interrupted and said “did you loose your virginity on this street or what?”

This is the question that has motivated me to write this entry. I was not aware that the information I was giving was anything special. I would have thought anyone who did not live on the other side of Bosporus would have as easily given the same amount of detail. But Cenk’s question made me realise that this is not quite true that after all not a lot of people passed that street 3 times already that day like I had. Of course I did not loose my virginity on that street, at least not literally. However I have spent a considerable amount of my life at and around Beyoglu. I know every side street that branches off of Istiklal street like the back of my hand. 20 years ago I used to spent a lot of time drinking in the various bars and pubs and what nots. (I no longer drink) Now that I live around, I do my shopping and meet people at its cafes and of course I go to galleries and cinemas around here. Most importantly, however, I walk from one place to another in the entire vicinity every day withouth exception: Istiklal, Taksim, Galata, Taepebasi, Tarlabasi, cihangir etc. because, Cihangir where I live, is in the Beyoglu municipality and my adily needs and transactions make it necessary for me to walk about. For instance, on the very street that I tried to describe to Cenk, is situated the SIYAD headquarters. In short I know every nook and cranny around Beyoglu since I have had some occasion to know over the years, even if the occasion in question was never the loosing of my virginity.
However this doesn’t strike me as a specific knowledge. Beyoglu after all is the centre of the entire city everyone has occasion to come there. Everyone I know, seems to know Beyoglu as much as I do. But at choice moments I realise this is not so true and Cenk’s comment made one such moment. Yes every one knows Istiklal street but not every one knows the side streets and especially the short cuts and the easiest roots to get from one place to the other. In fact since Istiklal street is a place to promenade nearly everyone takes the longer roots and never learns there are shorter versions of the same journey.
This brings me to the second reason for this entry. On Tuesday night with a group of SIYAD members I had dinner with the Mayor of Beyoglu. Although I am aware that this seems to hold some news value, I am not interested in that side of it. The mayor, although very young for the office, is a typical politician whose urge for rhetoric is mostly boring. There was eight film critics at the table and every one started asking their questions by referring to how long they have known Beyoglu, how well they know it and how much they love it etc. Alin (a dear, dear friend whom I genuinely love and believe is one of the very few journalist left who actually make an adorable job out of it) even had the opportunity to refer to the legendary old times of Beyoglu, the time of her grandmother, since not only her but even her grandmother was born in Istanbul which is a very rare thing in deed. However I soon realised that I was the only person at the table who actually lived at Beyoglu. Consequently I was the only member of the Mayor’s constituency. I barely talked during the dinner and merely listened. But when we were about to go and the Mayor asked if we need to be dropped off anywhere, I couldn’t pass the opportunity to say, “I live within walking distance”. The mayor’s eyes lit up and we had a little chat about Cihangir and the new park that just opened there.
I don’t think I ever say “I love Beyoglu” because I think “well, duh, who doesn’t”. I never say to myself “I know this place” because, again, who doesn’t. And I certainly don’t say “I belong here” or “this is my home” because the whole point of Beyoglu seems to be that it is a place that one visits and only those who ‘don’t belong’ live. It is where you go to entertain, to engage in cultural activates, to find blind dates and one night stands, even to work but after the hub and hustle you go back to your quite homes. As the mayor himself called it, Beyoglu is a free zone, which is in its connotations the very opposite of the concept of home. But after these two incidents got me thinking, I realised I love this place precisely because, only a free zone can I call home.

preapering for the siyad awards

OK I admit life overtakes me quite a bit. I wrote the below entry Monday afternoon just before I went to attend the SIYAD (Turkish Film Critics Association) Award ceremony which was going to be broadcasted live and where I had to go on stage to give an award. However I didn’t even have time to post it let alone write a new entry about the ceremony itself. What I did instead was to write a comment about the huge arguments the awards created for the Sunday supplement of the daily newspaper Radikal where my very old friend Nilgun is an editor. Actually I don’t know if Nilgun will be able to find a place for it. All I know is that a blog entry would not have sufficed for this purpose. So here is what I wrote on the afternoon of the 3rd of March:

Already had a hectic day. I started of by going to the gym and if I had known the day was going to be like this I would have postponed it to another day. Anyway, there I saw Bahadir, who is a famous cartoonist. I have known him for ages, from the times I worked at Gunes daily newspaper with Bahadir’s, now wife, Mine. I have already mentioned Mine on this blog, she is the one who writes novels. Anyhow he told me, he and Mine are going to Kathmandu tomorrow. Mine is going to observe and eventually write a book on a group of Turkish hippies who went over there during the 60s and stayed. I am not sure if the book will be on and about this group or if Mine is merely going to use her observations to write a novel. She writes in both genres so it is difficult to be sure. Anyway when I went out of the gym, which is situated at Taksim square (overlooking Taksim square actually) and started walking on Istiklal street towards Beyoglu, who did I happen upon? None other than Mine! We decided that the moment she is back, her, me, and Erel will meet. If there is anyone who has read my very first blog entry, they will know that I had met Erel at the opening gala of the !f independent film festival and made the same promise to her. Let’s see when we will actually meet, accidentally somewhere at Beyoglu, more likely than not.

Then things became complicated. I had to drop by the SIYAD (Turkish film critics association) headquarters to get some invitations for tonight’s big event but no one answered the door, which is not so curious, since most likely every one is at the venue where the event will take place busy with the preparations. Since the headquarters is very near my house (15 minutes walk) I didn’t mind. I came home, ate lunch, which consisted of a self-made tuna and avocado sandwich, then I saw the message from Gencay, asking if I could arrange an additional invitation, since a guy he has been interested in for some time (entirely my doing but that’s another story) wanted to go with him if there was. Actually he already had an invitation and had already promised Inanc he would go with him and had every inclination to dump Inanc if there were no invitations, Inanc being merely his heterosexual friend while the other is a date potential. I said I’ll do smtg.

Then the phone rang and it was Gulengul she wanted to know if there was an invitation since she was thinking of coming. Then she said Cenk was being very gay and putting suits on and off trying to decide what to wear and generally making Gulengul nervous. She on the other hand was claming that film critics usually go around in jeans and t-shirts with cigarette burns in them. The observation is very accurate and I ensured Gulengul a nice shirt on her jeans would be sufficient although there would be people in formal wear as well. Then we gossiped about Cenk and Gencay the details of which I have no intention of disclosing. All I will say is I have decided that I will from now on refrain from giving my opinion to any gay man when they start there endless speculations on who to date and who not to date and whether they should date and what not. I will patiently listen and nod and that is all. I will not get entangled in this mess nor be seen anywhere near the cross fire. Gulengul thought this decision to be very wise.

However then she started asking me questions I had no answer for like will we party after the ceremony, when exactly does this start, aren’t you supposed to be the deputy head of this association, do I need to go higher to get answers etc. Gulengul has a reason for asking so many questions. If she is to leave her baby girl (elfe whom I already wrote an entry about) she has to make the most of it. she can’t just go to the ceremony she has to drink party everything the one and only night a month she goes out. So I called the head of the association Mozer (another very old friend) to ask him where to get invitations etc. he said I should call the headquarters and the moment there is somebody there, go get it. if this doesn’t work, I should give the names of the people to the guy at the door! (this is a classic I have to write about as a separate entry one day) So I called and they said they would be there for half an hour so I had to rush back out. Then just as I entered the damn place, my mobile rang and it was Cenk who had called to ask, surprise surprise, if there were additional invitations!. Thank god this is the kind of event you worry might not be full so its not a big deal to keep on providing invitations if only I didn’t have to run around Beyoglu to get them.

Then I went to my hairdresser (I already told you about him because of Alisa) and told him: “I actually love the way my hair looks at this very moment however I have this thing tonight and everyone says I have to get my hair done and I hate my hair done but … as long as I don’t end up looking like my mom”. Now that it is done I can assure you that I look nothing like her but now I have to get dressed. We (Seda –love of my life- and me) will be meeting with Gencay, Emrecan, Inanc, Cenk, Gulengul and who ever Cenk is bringing at six in front of AKM (Ataturk Cultural Center) where hopefully there will be buses to take us to the venue. So I have to rush.

After snow craze

Yesterday was a hectic day. Spring term started so I went all the way to Alibeykoy (the end of the Golden Horn) to the university, to first meet with my course contact person (otherwise known as the CCP) who is also an ex-student, Pinar, then to lecture for 3 hours. I was hoping secretly that most students wouldn’t turn up because they tend to do that on the first day of term and especially when the weather conditions promise traffic jams. Alas they were all present so lecture I did. It is difficult to go back into the rhythm of it after a two - month break.

Then I met with Alisa (my film scholar friend who lives at London and whom I mentioned in a pervious entry concerning her stance against blogging) who is at Istanbul for a week and wanted to go to the hairdresser who cuts my hair as well as Seda’s and he is good. After years and years of long hair I finally got it cut short. The decision came after I sat through four seasons of “The L Word” watching brilliant haircuts. Of course Seda had already gone to the hairdresser in question and everyone including me had adored her hair. So now Alisa wanted to go as well. The hairdresser is on the same street as we live so we met there and asked if he was available he told us to come back in half an hour so we went back to my house and had a chat.

One of the topics was blogging. Alisa once again told me she couldn’t understand the urge. I asked if she understand the urge to keep a dairy. She said: “yes but you keep your dairy under your pillow, you don’t show it don’t to anybody”. I answered: “yes but that’s dangerously close to repressing I don’t want to get overly theoretical but the more your inner thoughts become a part of the symbolic system the better for you”. You see I am very much into psychoanalysis whereas Alisa isn’t so all I have done is giving an explanation that she won’t really understand!

However what I found really interesting was her explanation that she stopped reading a friends blog because she realised “I would like him better if I did not read it”. I found the declaration extremely striking when she first said it and since then I have realised why. If you like someone on the condition that you turn a blind eye to what he himself wants you to know, then you end up likening someone who is most definitely not that person but an imaginary construct of your own. I for one would never feel so desperate to be liked that I am willing to be someone else (or taken to be someone else) for the privilege. Both parties are better off without any liking on any body’s part. This seems to me very close to saying “I will like him better if I don’t know him better” which very much reminds me of precisely the urge to ‘pass’. To pass as straight while you are gay to pas as “white Turk’ while you are in fact Kurd etc. To deny yourself believing you will be ‘liked’ by more people if you do so. More to the point it reminds me of those condescending people who are gracious enough to be my friend if and only if I don’t point out to them that I am a lesbian. So I always knew there was a connection between blogging and coming out that is why the name of the blog is “out and about” but the more I think of it the more related they become.

Anyhow I couldn’t wait until Alisa’s hair was done because I had to rush to a board of directors meeting of SIYAD, (The Turkish Film Critics Association of Turkey). I am the deputy chair of this association. We talked about the election that is to be held on Thursday and the award ceremony on the 3rd of March as well as the events to be held during the upcoming Istanbul Film Festival, I promised to moderate a panel at the festival called “Turkish Cinema Inside Out”, which consists of foreign and Turkish film critics talking about contemporary Turkish cinema. I also promised to go to a studio this Saturday where they will shoot me talking about the nominees for the best director category, which will be shown during the award ceremony.

I wonder how Alisa’s hair turned out.

This morning I had a bit of slow time to counter the dashing about yesterday and went back to “Tipping The velvet”. It turns out the novel is even better than I thought, not just a lesbian romance but a lot of queer sex as well. Nan the protagonist is now earning her living as a male prostitute just like Shane from “The L Word”, we are told once did. And now that I have mentioned it I have to go back to reading it.