Place Osi, Ferdinand, and Fortuna

March 11th


The following morning the news is on about the Kobe earthquake in Japan.  8.9 is huge - 150x the size of the earthquake that recently struck in New Zealand.  I later realize that the Japanese guy I met at the beginning of Istanbul was Japanese and feel mortified.  

I find potential hosts, a girl who studies and drinks tea on the weekends, people that live far away in Istanbul and finally select a rather unique one - Fortuna, "dancer y Analyst".  

I leave the hostel and head towards his tiny apartment - Place Osi.  This is the tiniest apartment I've ever seen.  It must have been twice the size of a dorm room, but with a bathroom and a kitchen.  At the same time, there were three beds - it was so compact.  Shoes on the stairs, shoes hanging, and a full closet, I wondered how Fortuna even managed.  His offering stated something along the lines of "if comfort is not an issue, you're welcome to stay."  I knew it'd be a unique experience so I went.  Having pressed on every button available on the outside of his apartment because I did not know which one was his, success came - I'm sure with a pissed off neighbor or two.  Inside sat Ferdinand, Spanish born, Portuguese descent - If I'm correct.  Fluent in Portuguese, English, and Spanish and having studied Business Management, he was making a higher than average income at the age of 23.  We find some common ground and he informs me that Fortuna and the other couchsurfer are gay (Fortuna is actually bi).  Ferdinand and I would eventually learn that we would be brought to Istanbul for the same reasons.  

After some solo venturing, I arrived back to find Ferdinand and Simon- the other surfer from Germany at home.  Fortuna was supposed to call or be home to get something to eat and go Salsa dancing; supposed to.  He would later come home to alert us that his friend's mother died so there was some consolation going on.  The evening still young, Ferdinand and I venture out to get some food.  We get onto the topic of getting Lasik eye surgery done and he tells me that he knows plenty of people that have done it; the only drawback being cash and availability in certain locations.  He tells me he knows of a place to get it done in Istanbul and I explain that I'm not sure because my eyesight is perfectly fine.  

That night, Fortuna invites about ten more people to his flat.  Everyone gets settled and the drinks start coming out.  I refuse to drink - but share my wine from Bulgaria.  It appears that after this point, no one is going out because staying at Fortune's is way too comfortable.  So Ferdinand and I head out. 

Istiklal street in Istanbul on a Friday night is just alive.  You can feel the energy of thousands upon thousands of people in the streets.  Not a single area is quiet, quiet is non-existance.  So many people fill the streets, the sad, the fucked up, the happy, the weird, the lost, and those who want to belong.  You can feel the emotions of the people and sense their feelings.  There is no thinking - just doing.  And we find this place called Beyrut - ethnic and international music.  We go inside and our presence is only but a sprout.  I quickly become acquainted with the music, find the rhythm, lose all inhibition, and move.  I become one with the music and start to acquaint myself with other people who are comfortable in their own skins - it's not real though, they are usually drunk and they become what they want to become for only a short duration.  I don't talk, rather just move and they communicate back non-verbally.  Tonight, I have no name or identity.  

Did I mention this place was called Beyrut - ethnic and international music?  Although a bar, the floor was plentiful and the place was alive.  People dancing everywhere in whatever manner possible.  No one trying to show off, no one trying to prove a point.  This place was the epitome of acceptance and international communion.  American, Finnish, Korean, and people from all over the world were present.  In one section, you have your Germanics, in another the Arabic, the Hispanic, and so on.  

Our presence grows and the attention starts to focus on us.  Suddenly a congo line forms and I'm put in front.  I try to find suitable leaders, but no one wants to.  The congo line ends and I find myself in a rather Arabic area, dancing my way back to where I began.  You can feel who is happy, who is pissed off, who is uncomfortable, and who doesn't like you just by their body language.  I find myself a nice little niche of people to dance with, they are not holding back and they do not care who is who.  This eventually grows bigger and bigger.  And our presence becomes greater, attracting many.  Soon enough people come up to introduce themselves to me and in the middle of this vibrant brawl of dancing I believe I nudge someone's beer.  I saw him earlier with a girl I believe to be his girlfriend.  She wanted to dance and have fun while he wanted to keep her in his eyesight, dragging her to other places and being dragged himself - you could rip his façade apart.  He clearly did not want to be there and he did not want anyone touching his prized possession.  He was not alone either.  Many men became protective, keeping me in their eyesights, putting a physical divide between me and their women by placing themselves between us.  

Admist the orgy I realize I'm thirsty.  With absolutely no need of any alcohol, I need a trusty liquid refreshment - water.  I go to the bar and ask for a water, the bartender points at the beer tap, I say water.  I place myself on the backburner and position myself by a collumn to rest and wait for my water.  The bartender calls about three people over and there seems to be a rucus.  About ten minutes pass and I'm thinking to myself, "what does a man need to do to get some damn water here, there's a faucet right there where they're cleaning the glasses - give me that, it's perfectly fine."  Two bottles of water are brought up.  The bartender looks at me and raises two fingers up.  I give him my five Lira bill, he gives me three back, and I slide one Lira onto the counter.  Out of the corner of my eye while chugging my water, I see him and one of his counterparts eye the coin and he slowly takes it off the counter, pocketing it.  

I go back to dancing and something just does not feel right - the atmosphere feels rigged after the small encounter over water.  We leave and go to find Fortuna, who has based himself at home with his guests.  Empty bottles and cigarette ash trays everywhere, people sitting and chatting, and camera flashes, we come home as completely different people to completely different people.  The two German girls who at first seemed so proper and stiff had initially in beginning created a tiny social corner with Simon, were now wrapped together smiling contagiously and bliss like.  They were supposed to catch a bus at 1:00 to the airport, but overstayed - "We'll take a taxi" (think female German accent).  The Turkish men had all been talking, and the cute Turkish girl was calming down after initially being very energetic.  I look for my sustenance, oranges and apples, and cannot find them.  I drink more water and rest on the corner of the mattress.  

Departure time was on the brink.  Leaving behind Simon and a Turkish man who drank too much, we all left to send off the Germans, and you could just feel the authority Fortuna commanded.  After surveying the Taxi's for a suitable driver to the airport, hugs and byes were administered and the Germans left.  The group proceeded to split ways, only for a few to recollect at a Metal bar - think Metallica.  Us being part of it, the presence there was true, but it just did not feel like home.  Ferdinand and I head back to the Beyrut bar, but we find out that the party is over.  Rather disappointed because it was only 3:00, people were communicating about their cultures.  I suppose I held Istanbul to a higher standard - for a city 50x smaller than Istanbul, Burgas partied till the wee hours of the morning.  Maybe it was the wrong time.  

After giving my host Fortuna a back massage, we hit the hay at  8:00 and wake up at 12:00; not an easy task.  Following the zombie like awakening, we spend most of the morning discussing our previous night.  Fortuna went out to work, Simon went to take a long walk, so Ferdinand and I were left to make up the day.  After discussing our previous whereabouts prior to coming to Istanbul and our actual motives, we found ourselves on a common motive of heartbreak, leading into a discovery of poems.  


Emotions aside and the evening in full bloom, we decide to try our luck with the night life again - of course after wetburgers and sarma/sarmi.  To our dismay we Fortunate decides to sleep for the evening and night - he had taught two hours of intensive Salsa on top of the previous night.  Scrambling to get into contact with some Italian girls that Ferdinand met a few nights previously, we look at potential events or places to visit.  
 Going back to the Beyrut club in hopes of causing more hell, we reach our destination and find that it is desolate - and leave.  Slightly disappointed, we finally deciding that the objective of the night was to dance, we make way to a club called "Romeo and Juliet."  Along the way we pass by a countless amount of clubs - and are denied entry; Turkey demands having girls in your group; being Asian and Hispanic won't help you here.  Finally arriving to Romeo and Juliet, we find out that there is actually a Turkish folk music concert taking place - not exactly what we were expecting but we were allowed free entry.  Song after song our minds begin to play tricks on us.  Our motives to coming to Istanbul started to creep every so gradually and as soon as we knew it, the music had stopped and the concert had ended.  On our way back to Fortuna's, Ferdinand hints at the idea of committing some type of suicide if I am up to it.  I tell him that in two years max you'll be fine and we go back home with heads hanging.