| |
Being a Eurocon
At Eurocon, East can meet West, and North may encounter South. The
organizing body, the European SF Society, has tried to be an apolitical
organization from the start. However, political reality in Europe
has
more than once forced a change of site for Eurocon. This year was
another such year: under the dramatic conditions existing in Croatia
at
the end of 1991, the organizing committee of the originally chosen
1992
Eurocon site, Zagreb, was forced to announce the cancellation of
the
event. The infrastructure in Croatia no longer allowed conventions
of
any kind...
During the opening ceremony of the substitute 1992 Eurocon, held
from 24 to 26 April in Freudenstadt, the head of programming Hermann
Ritter spoke a few well-chosen words remembering the sad events
which
had brought SF fans from over 20 countries together in the German
part
of the Black Forest rather than Zagreb. It was a minute to remember
our
Croatian SF friends who couldn't be there.
The hall
The physical layout of the convention center, the Kurhaus, wasn't
particularly comfortable, though it did include a terrace bar, awash
with strong afternoon sunlight. Attendees had to work their multiple
lines through a set of double doors, of which only one half were
open.
But there was no need to dust off rusty German language skills;
the fans
staffing the check-in, and the staff provided by the center, were
eager
to speak English. They didn't mind the odd attempt of the foreigner
to
try simple orders in German, however. And the attendees came in
great
numbers - with some 750 fans attending, Freucon was one of the largest
German conventions since, indeed, the Heidelberg worldcon.
The rest of the set-up was functional enough, if again not
particularly comfortable. The sun continued to barge into the plate
glass windows, dazzling and forceful as a furnace, until the staff
remembered to lower the shades. The only place to sit was either
in the
rooms where panels and meetings took place, or a lounge area far
from
the focus provided by the snack bar and the fannish traffic. Sales
areas
for German books (mostly second hand, with some new material of
a gaming
and media emphasis) were tucked into foyers leading to the theater
and
its balcony. The Saturday "market", by then with room
for the various
foreign interests like Worldcon and Eurocon bidding (not to mention
the
European Convention Union and Shards of Babel), was also set up
in an
open foyer area, necessitating a total clean-up at the end of the
day to
free the area for other purposes. It gave the sales activities a
rather
nomadic feel.
However, the entire programme was under one roof, which was highly
appreciated by people who have experienced the hassles and communication
problems of a convention which is spread out over town. The only
"programme" item out of the building, the "joint"
bidding party for the
Glasgow and Atlanta Worldcon bids and the 1993 Eurocon on Jersey,
was
only a minute's walk from the building.
The programme
Though it hosted the Eurocon at a late stage, the Freucon organizers
had been preparing an international convention from the onset, where
people with and without a knowledge of German would be able to enjoy
themselves. This showed time and again. With the excellent British
authors John Brunner and Iain Banks as guests, plus American writer
Norman Spinrad and Daniel Walther from France, the programme was
varied
both in language and in contents.
The Saturday program wasn't particularly accessible to someone
unfluent in German, but this is not to be seen as a fault -- certainly
many panels warmed up with requests for people to indicate if they
spoke
English or German, to ascertain if an English translation (or rather,
a
summary, usually by someone already sitting on the panel) was necessary.
Certainly the convention behaved very hospitably, considering that
Freucon provided Eurocon with an alternative venue rather late in
the game.
During the course of the weekend, an international mix of
professionals exchanged ideas about and experiences with censorship;
Norman Spinrad gave his impression on living in Europe; Irish writer
James Hogan, in painting his career decisions, illustrated once
more the
understanding of science which make his stories so well-known; and
John
Brunner covered his experiences in writing in an interview by Hermann
Ritter which many considered the highlight of the programme.
The programme was taped by an official convention video team,
following a recent habit of German conventions to tape highlights
and
offer the tape for sale afterwards. However, the con's video cameras
sunk away to nothingness compared to the huge professional video
cameras
rising up from the audience: they belonged to the Romanian national
television, having sent an entire crew over to make a two-hour show
on
the convention. Best of all, the Romanian television crew turned
out to
be SF fans, themselves! They were among a group of sixty (!) SF
fans
from Bucarest and Timisoara, who arrived in two touring cars.
Smaller numbers of fans and pros came from Poland, Czechoslovakia,
the Ukraine, Russia, Hungary, Switzerland, Great Britain, Belgium,
Italy, and other countries from all over Europe - and beyond, seeing
an
official delegation from China attending Freucon's world SF meeting,
and
the odd enterprising fan from Japan or North America making it to
the
convention.
One of the less smoothly running parts of the convention was the
artshow. The problems around the artshow proved to be so large that
the
Freucon organizing committee (Klaus Frick, Guenther Freunek and
Hermann
Ritter) sent an open letter after the convention detailling problems
and
blaming artshow organizers Thomas Recktenwald and Herbert Thierry.
This
was followed by a open refutation from Herbert Thierry; let's hope
the
involved parties will find an occasion to talk this out.
Parties and ceremonies
Lynne Ann didn't pay much attention to the awards ceremony and
Roelof did only nominally better, perhaps because he had to pick
up an
award for the Netherlands. We were too busy getting to know Anna
and
Misha from the CIS. It was possible to have been more polite and
tried
to pay some attention to the ceremony -- the best thing Lynne Ann
remembers about it was filksinging from Valerie Housden during the
interval. (Can't hurt when you sing favorites like "The Eagle
Has
Landed.") But there was a ways to travel between the first
half and
intermission. Anna and Misha were sharing vodka, black bread and
sausage
with us -- it began discretely, as the congress center was also
selling
its own food and drink to the gathering. Once the evening (and the
drink
and food receipts) had progressed sufficiently, such subterfuge
was
deemed unnecessary. We had to confess to our friends that we were
truly
unaccustomed to the effect of THAT much vodka on our system (each
round
is imbibed in one go, and after a semi-decent interval the glasses
are
refilled), Misha granted a dispensation to sip only as much vodka
as we
wanted; there would be nothing criminal about leaving some vodka
behind
after a toast, as long as we enjoyed the vodka. Oh, boy, did we
ever.
The bread and sausage were good too, made even better by an intense
sense of friendship.
We talked and got hushed by those listening to the ceremony so
regularly that Lynne Ann muttered this was an occupational hazard.
Then
she elbowed one of our friends from Germany -- "Hey,"
she whispered,
"What's German for 'occupational hazard'"? Our friend
consulted with a
few of his friends, and before we knew it, a full-throated discussion
of
the German translation of "occupational hazard," concluding
with the
result (courtesy Erik Simon and the Steinmuellers) of "Berufsbedingtes
Gesundheitsrisiko." Now, we can only hope that no one officially
involved realized that was supposed to apply to the awards ceremony!
After the ceremony, a band began to play all kinds of dance tunes,
first very German and folksy sounding ones, then later rock and
roll
from divergent periods. The vocalist was bad enough that everyone
could
entertain the notion of getting in front of the microphone to sing
better, without feeling too serious about it, but good enough that
dancing was most enjoyable. The Anglo-Saxons and Dutch mixed dancing
with "frog-ball", tossing a soft toy frog between balcony
and ground
floor: what better image to illustrate that the atmosphere was relaxed?
The staff were gentle about shooing us out -- when the band stopped
playing, we all moaned that it was unfair, couldn't they play just
a
little longer. (See? they weren't that bad.) Except for Kathy Westhead,
who showed us a watch and said, "The center is closed at one
a.m." Her
watch stood at 1.35.
East meets West
"Happy Easter!" The Romanians greeted us all on Sunday
morning,
giving away beautifully decorated Easter eggs. They carefully explained
how the Orthodox Easter was celebrated on a different day than in
the
West. After the convention, a friend of ours mentioned that the
Romanians had requested, and got, a room Saturday night in order
to
observe and Easter vigil. The activity was surprising, but this
friend
pointed out that religious observance was something not permitted
to
them for so long that now they were exercising their freedom to
do so.
She went on to predict that such activity would decrease as the
novelty
wore off, in about five years.
Lynne Ann wondered as, returning to a pile of mail waiting for us
at
home, she fingered a pair of Easter greeting cards sent by our Polish
fan friends to us in the West, where a relatively more prominent
Christmas provides an annual focus for merchant activity. Granted,
the
Easter message sits even less comfortably than the Christmas message
with free market forces, but who can guess, in the end?
(c) 1992 by Lynne Ann Morse and Roelof Goudriaan. Original publication
Shards Of Babel 37, 1992.
|
