By pure coincidence today, we ended up at a guest exhibition at the State Art and Sculpture Museum here in Ankara featuring the paintings of a Turkish artist, Ayşegül Poroy. The museum, or art gallery which is how I would call it, usually holds such exhibitions showcasing the work of local artists, although not much information is available to the public. Surprising when the entrance was free. I’d definitely have gone earlier, had I known about it.
The theme of the exhibition “Moving” is definitely one that I can relate to – and probably you as well – although my sort of moving involves only a backpack and no fragile-marked boxes, which is a prominent feature in her paintings. The composition of the paintings was definitely something that stood out and I loved all the vibrant colours she used. I checked the prices at which the paintings were selling and they were a killer – not that I’m surprised. I wouldn’t mind having one or two of these in my living room myself (if I had a living room, and money of course).
When I’m back home in Mauritius, there is much more I enjoy doing than staying at home usually sitting in the hallway and reading a book – I’m the reason there are carpets and cushions everywhere in the house – and enjoying the silence and privacy which practically don’t exist here in my yurt in Turkey. Although that literally is mostly what I ended up doing during the first two weeks I was back home over summer (or winter in the Southern Hemisphere – that always gets people confused). One of my favourite spots to go to is to Mahébourg, a small “town” on the southeast coast of the island, somewhere I had been going as a child with my dad to watch the Regatta race every year while stuffing myself with all the yumminess from the food stalls there. I’ve had a thing for boats since and working on a boat for some time definitely falls into my bucket list.
Sometimes around this year last year, I was eagerly planning my winter holidays – not the normal/Christmas season but rather the one week off I would be getting in February. Destination: London, a.k.a. my second home. I could barely hold in my excitement knowing that I’d be going back, albeit for a short time, after more than a year of absence. I was looking forward to walking down the streets of London and getting lost as the geographer in me usually does, having hot chocolate at my favourite coffee shop on Fleet Street and see the new tiger territory at London Zoo. None of that happened, other than the getting lost part – I tend to manage that pretty well without trying too much. I had to rearrange my plans when my flight got delayed (that’s the short version, I’ll write about it at some point, maybe) and when the ex-boyfie, a.k.a the-douche-who-I-thought-was-the-love-of-my-life-then-and-with-whom-I-was-in-a-long-distance-relationship – if you’re reading this, well I’m not apologising – decided at the last minute to come down to London from the far North for some cuddly couple time.
We went along with his to-go-to list rather than mine which was more of a where-and-what-to-eat list. His argument was: we couldn’t just stuff ourselves all day long. I should have known then and there he wasn’t a keeper. Just for the record, I did end up stuffing myself all day long either way, so win!