In Siirt, we found a place to escape the dismal Gapgenç festival, hang around, and get to know the other volunteers. The place sprung out of nowhere. No name bar. A few of us thirsty souls came across an “Efes” sign on the pavement pointing to a dark flight of stairs, walked up and found a small off licence shop. Behind a curtain of beads appeared a room we asked to sit in. The owner pointed out it was only for friends, but OK for this time. A few locals were enjoying a glass of wine or bear with some rhubarb, seemingly going by the implicit rule that no one had seen anybody here, this place didn’t exist.
Not for long. The word spread among volunteers and the crowd of four we initially were grew to fifteen that night, 25 the following and over 30 the last evening. The owner was happy, making a monthly turnover in a few days time, and so were we. It was the good life.