The party comes later - on the six-storey-high rooftop of a stagehand's flat. His name is Erran and we affectionately call him "Errand boy". It's quite chilly on the roof but the raki is warming and the view is unbeatable. I can see about six mosques and the city is covered in red and white flags billowing for the next day's marathon. The party is full of artists and transvestites and interesting people. I notice that even the deadpan bodyguard is here. "I've never seen burlesque before but I enjoyed that very much," he says, sidling over. I realise how exotic burlesque still is here, but the diversity of this city makes it a perfect place for the scene to grow. I love Istanbul.
