I’m getting ready for the most exciting International Women’s Day for years, or actually, in my life. I thought I would be reporting on some demonstration somewhere, but over the last few weeks, this plan has changed. At the request of Press Now, an organization that promotes an independent press in different countries, I will give a three day journalism course to a group of women who run the only women’s newspaper in Turkey. This course starts on Saturday, and somehow or other I have committed myself to giving a talk on women in Dutch journalism, on the occasion of International Women’s Day. To about ten women, I thought, at an informal breakfast in a cozy hotel in Izmir. Piece of cake. But then it turned out to be not only for the women who work at the newspaper, but that dozens of women from journalism and women’s organizations are also invited, about eighty of them altogether. And they will not be coming in jeans and sweaters, but all dressed up. And I too am not supposed to appear in jeans. Now occasions where I can wear my very nice best dress are always welcome, but the final blow came with the request that maybe possibly I could give the talk in Turkish? Of course, no problem, I’ll just have the speech translated. So that’s how a breakfast chat in pyjamas for a small group of people turned into an exercise at which I have to speak for about fifteen minutes in Turkish to a group of demanding feminist Turkish women in glitter clothes. Luckily I can wear my Power Dress.