The Most Beautiful Man (1)

Nezih turns up at the hostel on Thursday morning after my failed attempt to get into his gig the night previous. We amble through Palermo Soho with his percussionist friend – Ulas, the Turkish Jeremy Arndell. Its my first look at Boutique BA. Swanky bars, girls with fringes, colourful clothes, coffee bar book stores, New York style. It’s good to see a friendly face, more so one whom, despite years with minimum contact, I re-connect with so easily. He tells me about his plane out of Philadelphia breaking down and the American Airlines information staff who, it transpires, haven’t got a clue where Buenos Aires is…‘have yourself a good journey to BuenawhatEVER’. I don’t like to generalise about Americans but….

Later we catch up properly over a few beers long into the night (Buenos Aires is a night city, no doubt). I’m moved by Nezih’s own astonishment at the impact marriage has had on him, in terms of the relationship itself and its cohesive effect within his own family (and between the respective sides of the families). A lovely man, no doubt about it.