Go to any concert and you’re bound to find the type of person who is gung-ho about the band. Her arms are flailing and her eyes are closed as she rocks out listening to the music. As an outsider looking in, you wonder what really is going on in her head and how enthralled she must be. You’re jealous because it must be pretty spectacular in there. The music moves that person to such a degree that her body can’t keep up with the rhythms and you wish it did the same for you. Now, the really spectacular shows will make a convert out of everyone in the audience. The Indie Music Showcase at the Mercury Lounge for the Latin Alternative Music Conference did just that. While it was just a small portion of all the festivities going on for the conference, it really symbolized a melding of different types of people, genres of music and, most of all, the actual bands.

It started with Forro in the Dark, a Brazilian band, whose rhythmic bongo beats paired with classic Brazilian flutes warmed up the crowd. A group of six Latin American men playing their bongos and guitars is sure to liven up anyone, especially given that they tend to goof and parade onstage while playing their instruments. Back in 2006, these guys played with David Byrne at Joe’s Pub for their record release party for their CD “Bonfires of Sao Joao.” Byrne actually sings on the record. Their ethnic beats combined with contemporary electric guitars and synchronized chanting makes for a new kind of country-esque Brazilian pop. Musicians who enjoy what they do and are good at it? That’s what really gets a crowd going.

To completely jump into a new type of music was Pilar Diaz. A cute Chilean brunette who hails from Los Angeles, Diaz was decked out in a menswear-inspired outfit complete with a white button-up and tie and a flapper-era hat. Diaz whipped out her ukulele and proceeded to rock out hardcore. One may not think that rocking out on a ukulele is possible, but Diaz managed to get the whole crowd in a tizzy. Everyone wanted to stand next to her, to feel her presence. She spouted out lyrics like a woman scorned (“Tengo una pena, tengo venganza” which translates to “I have a pain (in my heart), I have vengeance”) but she still came across as sweet and serene. Diaz was able to convey several different styles from her music to her appearance, which left the audience wanting more.

The crowd was rewarded with Zigmat. Straight out of Brooklyn, Zigmat is a relatively new group who sounds like the Talking Heads but looks more like the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Monica, the lead singer, started singing in a high falsetto and immediately went into a robot dance. She mixed her vocals (sung in Spanglish) with synthesizer sounds and messed up her pouffy afro between songs. As she did her thing onstage, the other members went on playing their instruments with concentration. This mix of the inane with serious intent really resonated with the audience. The rock-type ballads they were churning out naturally moved many people but it was their eclectic presence that really took it home. Though they were obviously new to the game (earlier this year, they won the Best New Artist Award from EN Música, a co-sponsor of the Indie Music Showcase), they pulled it off like more experienced acts such as Forro in the Dark and Pilar Diaz.

Ending the night, and ending it well, was Afrobeta from Miami. Cuci Amador, the lead singer, came onstage in a faux blonde afro and then proceeded to jump and thrash about. Halfway through the set, she ripped off her wig and whipped her long brunette hair around in a purely heavy-metal way while the keyboardist, Tony Smurphio, rocked along by thrashing his authentic afro, also in a style reminiscent of heavy metal. Their sound, however, was more Latin-infused techno with a sprinkle of get-yourself-out-on-the-dance-floor. Afrobeta channeled the 70’s with their disco wear and keyboard vibes but kept it contemporary with Cuci’s techno vocals and house beats. It was purely energetic from her presence onstage to the emanating reverberations issuing from the speakers.

The Indie Music Showcase may have just been for one night, but it still was able to exhibit a variety of different bands, sounds and musical influences that carried throughout the rest of the Latin Alternative Music Conference. I had seen a range of different musical acts who varied greatly amongst themselves, from their appearances to their musical styles. I wasn’t born in the 70’s, but groups with a Latin flair like the legendary Machito or Tito Puente still resonate with me. I’m also not fluent in Spanish, but that didn’t deter me—or other members of the audience—from enjoying the Indie Music Showcase, because the music transcended words.

Leah Riley is an avid world-traveler. She finds herself going to the far reaches of the earth, most recently to New Zealand, Australia, Greece, India and Costa Rica. Leah has a passion for all things music and fashion and currently contributes to several fashion and music magazines.

Our Istanbul salon, held on the rooftop of the Four Seasons Sultanahmet last week, was a rousing success—and I’m not just saying that because I’m part of the JANERA.com team. The building itself and the setting alone—betwixt the Blue Mosque and Hagia Sophia, overlooking the oldest quarter of Istanbul on one side and the Sea of Marmara on the other—was enough to make for a memorable evening. The luxury hotel’s previous incarnation was the Ottoman prison where “Midnight Express” took place (and the retelling of that story by ex-prisoner Billy Hayes and filmmaker Oliver Stone colored the modern perception of Turkey ever since). Sandwiched between two historic edifices, the latter of which has been a church for a thousand years, a mosque for five hundred, and for the past 50 years a secular museum, also provided a provocative backdrop for the subject at hand: East-West identity. Despite trying to meet European Union standards on everything from plastics to human trafficking policies, Turkey is also ruled by a conservative prime minister who wants to relax a secular ban on women wearing headscarves in universities. (Currently the country’s democratic constitution forbids this.) Roger Cohen aptly summarized the country’s contradictions in a recent New York Times Op-Ed: “a nation of nuances, Muslim but not Islamist, religious in culture but secular in construct, of the Occident and the Orient, bordering the West’s cradle in Greece and its crucible in Iraq.”

As guests streamed in during the cocktail hour, I introduced myself to Ferhan Alesi, a beautiful Turkish woman—and one of the evening’s experts—whose job as an “intercultural trainer” sounds like it’s both fun and fulfilling. Alesi, who has lived in eight countries over the past 16 years, trains expats in Turkey how to adapt to the local culture. (Hint: use body language, as the Turks do.)

Alesi also advises Turkish CEOs, when they are relocated for business, on how to master the nuances of their new culture. She earned a degree in Intercultural Communications—a growing field—at Pacific University in Portland, Oregon before moving back to Istanbul in 2003 with her Sicilian financier husband. She was the first (and so far only) Turkish citizen to serve on the board of the European chapter of the Society for Intercultural Education, Training and Research (SIETAR)—a professional network for people working in the field of intercultural relations.

I wandered over to my boyfriend, Michael, who was engrossed in a conversation with Ersin Pamuksüzer, the founder of LifeCo—the Canyon Ranch of Turkey. As I sipped my white Doluca wine, Pamuksüzer told me about LifeCo’s several detox spa centers, including one in Bodrum and one in Istanbul where guests eat raw food, do juice fasts, sweat out toxins in hamams, practice yoga, and even undergo colonic hydrotherapy.

Soon, I was talking to Timur Altop, a 35-year-old media consultant who also has one foot in each culture, American and Turkish. Born and raised in America to Turkish parents, Altop moved to Istanbul recently and founded a publishing consultancy firm, Maya Media. He has launched Turkish versions of U.S. magazines such as Men’s Health and Women’s Health (to launch this fall) and helped adapt Donald Trump’s “The Apprentice” for Turkish T.V.

At 8 p.m.Janera Soerel instructed the 25 guests to gather around the long, gorgeously laid table, introducing herself and the concept of these dinner salons before introducing local co-host, Anastasia Ashman. (Ashman, co-editor of the best-seller “Tales from the Expat Harem,” also wrote this story for issue #2 of JANERA.com)“Turkey is asking itself some of the world’s most difficult questions these days,” said Ashman, comparing the nation’s quest with her own identity issues as a global nomad and the questions central to her work. “We chose tonight’s topic because it is relevant to Global Nomads who are concerned with the concepts of personal identity, community and belonging, and the balance of cultural influences that can sometimes be at odds.”

As black-suited waiters served the first course—a warm goat cheese şakşuka (like a quiche without crust)—we went around the table, briefly introducing ourselves until Jennifer Coolidge, an Oxford-educated oil and gas consultant whose specialty is Turkmenistan, rose. Suddenly, with the muezzin from the Blue Mosque (as well as other mosques in the area) belting out the call to prayer from the minarets, it was clear that we’d have to take a brief moment of silence. (Strangely, there was also what sounded like a recorded prayer coming from the Hagia Sophia—something that surprised many of the Turks at the table.)

To my right sat Robin Sparks, a journalist who has lived all over the world—in Buenos Aires, Kathmandu, and Paris, to name a few. But out of all these regal cities, she prefers Istanbul because of its location between West and East. “I love watching where it’s going,” said Sparks, with a twinkle in her eye.

During the next course— a spinach and cheese-filled lasagna called börek —I got to know an American woman who is a DEA agent at the American Consulate in Istanbul. She and four other U.S. agents work in conjunction with the Istanbul police to intercept the heroin trade from Afghanistan. She and Alesi told me that they feel Istanbul is much more progressive than the rest of the country when it comes to religion, allowing all faiths to practice freely and openly. Later, other guests said that may be true, and Istanbul certainly has a long history of offering religious refuge—to Sephardic Jews expelled from Spain in the 15th century, for instance—yet the Muslim sects of Sufis and Alevis are not allowed to worship openly.

We played musical chairs and I found myself next to Susan McMurrain Erturan, who owns Mozaik, a design company that imports Knoll and other furniture to several showrooms in the city. She, Tara Hopkins (a professor at Sabancı University whose focus is civil society) and I talked about Turkish literature. Having just read Orhan Pamuk’s riveting melancholy novel “Snow,” I was curious to know how the Nobel Prize winner is received by Turkish intellectuals. (The book is loosely about the clash between radical Islam and Western ideals.) Hopkins said the general feeling is that his writing is too heavy and difficult but that her work has taken her to the town of Kars (where “Snow” is set) and the town really is as depressing as he depicts it in his novel.

Finally, after the main course of sage chicken rolled in the Beyti style, it was time for the experts to sum up their conversations. Expert Şerif Kaynar (country managing director of executive recruiting firm Korn/Ferry), who also owns a stylish Mediterranean culture bookstore in the trendy neighborhood of Cihangir, said his part of the table had focused on the cultural differences in the workplace—how eastern-tinged Turkish family-like bonds at work, while creating a feeling of stability and encouraging loyalty among coworkers, are not necessarily positive elements for ambitious professionals who want to climb the corporate ladder.

Hopkins said her part of the table played with the concept of identity, and the fact that Turkey may be suffering an inferiority complex. (Which poses its own challenges—of not being self-confident and always wanting to be different.) Though the country may be democratic in name, Hopkins thinks it has a long way to go. To illustrate this, she mentioned a sign that’s hanging along Cirağan Caddesi that says “We love our country, we love democracy!” “Would you need to have a sign proclaiming this if it were true?” Hopkins posed.

Neşe Gündoğan, secretary general of the National Turkish Olympic Committee and a former Turkish running champion, spoke about the subject that was on everybody’s mind: sports (the Turkey/Germany Euro 2008 soccer match had been the night before). Gündoğan noted that she’s seen a lot of prejudice towards “developing countries” such as Turkey from European sporting bodies.

As dessert arrived—spice bazaar ice cream and a carmelized milk pudding called kazandibi—Michael pointed out that human beings have a tendency to conform and to innovate. The consensus at his end of the table was that the prevailing cultural identity in Istanbul is toward conforming through product branding, a Western phenomenon. This has a stultifying effect on innovation—be it Eastern or Western.

To the entire table Janera posed the question, “Is there really an identity crisis?” In her opinion, after the many conversations she’d had throughout the night, the differences in the city—East and West—were largely socio-economic. The poorer neighborhoods of Istanbul tend to be “Eastern” while the wealthier areas of Nişantaşı, Beyoğlu, and Cihangir, tend to be more “Western.” Hopkins seemed to agree, reminding us all of the larger picture. The poverty rate in Turkey is at 28%—the highest it’s ever been. Guests began to throw out similar dichotomies in business and education. For instance, in Turkey, American businessmen receive training on how to work with women executives (since there are more in Turkey than in the United States), yet high-placed businesswomen are only seen in the top 500 companies. Also, despite the fact that the majority of the nation’s university professors are women, the education of Turkish women remains an issue, especially in the East of the country.

Guest Kristen Stevens, a native Atlantan who is now a journalist at the Turkish Daily News (Istanbul’s oldest English language daily), covered the event. (Her story was published a few days later.) A television crew from Turkish national TV news channel Haber Turk taped the proceedings and interviewed guests, while a documentary film crew from VTR headed by veteran director Enis Riza captured the salon for a film to be released in 2010 for Istanbul’s European Culture Capital celebration. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The hooligans have arrived! The peaceful town of Basel is now thronged with soccer fans from across Europe. Kiosks have sprung up, selling pretzels, crepes, bratwurst, and beer. Despite the continued rain and chill, a raucous crowd had gathered in the Marktplatz by 11 a.m., pounding on drums and chanting unintelligably. I observed silently from a café: What is it about sports that makes otherwise intelligent people (mostly men) don silly soccer ball hats, paint their faces with the colors of their flag, and behave altogether like 4-year-old boys? By comparison, Art Basel feels genteel.

This morning, I attended a panel called "Working from the Edge of the Global Market.” It sounded fascinating on paper but was, sadly, excruciatingly dull. Part of the problem was linguistic. Several times, moderator Philip Tinari (director of the Office for Discourse Engineering in Beijing) had to gingerly rephrase his questions when panelists clearly did not understand what he'd said. (Either that or they all picked up bad habits from George Bush, the master of using any question as a way of getting in a political sound byte.)

One thing I did learn, though, is that gallerists such as Gregor Podnar, director of a gallery in Ljubljana, Slovenia, who are based in small cities are starting to open up satellite galleries in major art cities as a way of reaching a larger audience. (Podnar has just opened up a space in Berlin). Major international art fairs also help, but the good ones are hard to get into and are also very expensive.

Pi Li, owner of the Boers-Li Gallery in Beijing (formerly Called Universal Studios, but a lawyer from Hollywood made him change the name), pointed out that it wasn't until he had his first show at the Venice Biennale, that foreign dealers and collectors began traveling to China to seek out his artists. John McCormack from Starkwhite Auckland in New Zealand said it's time to think of new ways of attracting the art world to New Zealand—the Auckland Art Fair is just not doing it. (His idea? Residencies for artists from around the world…)

Speaking of residencies, I read yesterday in the Art Newspaper that Sheikha Manal Al Maktoum, wife of Dubai's minister for foreign affairs, just launched an exchange program for female artists and would-be curators from the Emirates to other parts of the world. The first partner is Art Basel; 14 female students ages 19-23 are currently here perusing the fair, and will be visiting the city's museums as well. More info here.

There were no seats left when I arrived five minutes late to the Art Basel "Conversation" on Middle Eastern Art yesterday—a clear sign that collectors and dealers (and art journalists, no doubt) are curious about the work that's emerging from this region.

"Seven years ago, you wouldn't have made money on Middle Eastern Art," noted Saleh Barakat, a gallerist from Beirut. "But things have changed." Barakat, who runs Agial Art Gallery, said that after 9/11 "Arabs are really becoming more interesting for many people."

And since art is one of the only arenas in repressive Islamic cultures wherein citizens can explore forbidden issues such as homosexuality and women's rights, it can be a powerful source of inside information and ultimately, a way of instigating change. London-based art critic and curator Rose Issa illustrated this with a brief slideshow of captivating works by the likes of Iranian multi-media artist Amirali Ghasemi and London-based artist Farhad Ahramia. Mr. Ghasemi, who lives in Tehran, videotapes parties in private Tehrani homes and then blanks out the faces of the female guests, so as to protect their identities.

Though Ms. Issa flicked through the slides too quickly, I was able to focus on two sepia portraits of chador-covered women by the Iranian photographer Shadi Ghadirian. On first glance, they looked like formal 19th century photos, but I quickly noticed the anachronistic elements in each, wry commentaries on the ways in which women's roles are limited in Iran. It struck me that Ghadirian, who still lives and works in Tehran, is being more than a little bold in confronting issues such as censorship, religion, and the restricted role of women in her photographs.

The most engaging person on the panel was Ali Yussef Khadra, the publisher and editor-in-chief of Canvas Magazine, based in Dubai. Since he was only allotted ten minutes to speak, Khadra limited his discussion to the United Arab Emirates (UAE), but emphasized that the art markets in Kuwait, Iran, and other Arab countries are also thriving.

Khadra basically re-iterated what Barakat had said, only he gave detailed evidence. Middle East art magazines such as Canvas (which was launched in 2004) and Bidoun have done a great job of raising awareness of Middle Eastern art on a global level, said Khadra. Canvas, which is currently on newsstands in 26 countries, is selling out in London, Paris, and the U.S. (And subscriptions and Web hits in the "rest of the world"—i.e. not the Middle East—are increasing dramatically every year.)

In Dubai, where the economy and tourism are flourishing, the top six contemporary art galleries—B21 and the Third Line (both with an Iranian focus), Ayyam Dubai (Syrian), XVA/B, Green Art Gallery, and Ghaf Gallery—are doing a brisk business.

The emergence of new art fairs in the region (Art Dubai, Art Paris Abu Dhabi, etc.) has proven to the world that the Middle East not only has great art but wealthy collectors, too, said Khadra. If we needed any proof, Sheikh Saud Al-Thani—who has spent hundreds of millions of dollars on contemporary art, much of it for the new I.M. Pei-designed Museum of Islamic Art in Doha—was spotted at the vernissage on Tuesday night (a photo of him graced the front page of Wednesday's Art Newspaper.)

Mr. Khadra then ticked off all the major financial and art institutions that have either purchased works by Arab artists or put on major shows of contemporary Middle Eastern art: JP Morgan, the Saatchi Gallery, Fondation Carter, and the British Museum. (In 2006, Dr. Venetia Porter curated Word Into Art: Artists of the Modern Middle East at the British Museum; it traveled to Dubai earlier this spring.)

So all you investors out there who've been wanting to diversify your portfolios—perhaps the best thing to invest in is the future of the Middle East by supporting its artists? I hear the work is still fairly inexpensive, all things considered.

Today I'm taking a break from Art Basel and instead plan to pop into the Museum für Gegenwartskunst, not to be confused with the Kunsthalle or the Kunstemuseum Basel. (All three are contemporary art museums. And then there's the Schaulager, the Beyeler Foundation, and the Jean Tingueley Museum. Which begs the question, how does a city of 165,000 get 6 contemporary and modern art museums? I guess it has something to do with the Hoffmann pharmaceutical family….)

Image courtesy of Shadi Ghadirian

Yesterday morning over breakfast at Der Teufelhof hotel, I got an earful about what it’s like to work at Art Basel . While the annual 5-day fair may be an occasion to look forward to for collectors and museum curators, it’s a bit of a slog for dealers and gallery directors who work at their booths from 11 a.m.-9pm every day without much of a break for lunch. (Note: my boyfriend works at a major NYC gallery, so I’m familiar with these complaints but thought others might appreciate an insider’s perspective.)

“It already feels like day three,” moaned a director at a major gallery. (It was officially day #1, though most gallery staffs get here a few days early to install.) He had attended a swish NetJets party the previous night, and was amazed by how much money the company blew, especially considering that both Eos and Silverjet just went out of business. “They were freely handing out glasses of $250 bottle champagne,” he said, while eating his egg whites.

Across from him was another director of a major U.S. art gallery. “I hate art fairs,” he said, matter-of-factly. He then went on to detail all the collectors he dislikes, including one well-known couple with a small museum in the states who he says don’t really care about the art, but are just buying what they know they can sell later for a lot of money. “Any collector who owns more than three pieces is a dealer,” he said.

Before long the three men (my boyfriend included) were dishing about collectors (“I hate him!” said one about an ultra conservative collector. “You know he’s living with so and so’s ex now?”) and inventing alternative names for satellite art fairs like Liste and Scope (“Scat” was one particular favorite; the tag line was even better: “we’re all around you”). One wondered why Sam Keller (former longtime director of Art Basel, now the director of the Beyeler Foundation in nearby Riehen) has been spotted around the fair more than Marc Spiegler (one of the two new directors of the fair).

By the end of the meal, I was grateful that I wasn’t headed to the Messe (the enormous indoor convention hall where Art Basel resides) and that I could spend the sunny day reacquainting myself with Basel, a city I wrote about ages ago for Travel + Leisure.

However, I did stop by the Messe for the vernissage last night. Though I only grazed the Fair—never even making it to Art Unlimited or Art Statements—I was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of art on display. Call me old fashioned, but my favorite works (so far) were paintings by Egon Schiele and Käthe Kollwitz at Galerie St. Etienne’s booth. (Though I was also drawn to Chinese artist Yan Pei-Ming’s enormous boat comprised of tin cans at David Zwirner ) Sadly, I did not catch a glimpse of Brad Pitt, who was spotted earlier in the day wearing sunglasses and a trilby hat, studying a Carroll Dunham painting at White Cube.

Check back tomorrow for a précis of the interesting panel I attended this afternoon on the Middle East’s thriving contemporary art scene.