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EUROVISION MORE THAN MEETS THE EYE
by Anna Malpas
Agence France Presse
June 1 2012
Eye witness
Always an odd event, Eurovision had an extra layer of weirdness this
year from being hosted by Azerbaijan. It would be carping to say the
event was anything but magnificently organized and journalists were
lulled with all the 'goodie bags' and free food they could wish for.
But there was another side to the story.
Across town in an area of shoddy old Soviet blocks, we sat in a room
with hunger strikers. They were calling for the release of political
prisoners who were their friends and relatives, and telling us that
as international journalists, we were their only hope.
>From the plush press center of the Crystal Hall venue, it was just a
short taxi ride to a peaceful protest on the seafront, where police
ran through the strollers, detaining people including a man identified
by locals as a photographer for an opposition newspaper.
But probably unlike almost any other country in the contest, Azerbaijan
was happy to spend big money on the fun frills -- the light shows
playing on skyscrapers; the bushes sculpted into the Eurovision 2012
logo and the complimentary paperweights handed out to journalists
with drops of crude oil inside.
The Heidar Aliyev foundation headed by first lady Mehriban Aliyeva,
also shelled out on glossy books promoting Azeri culture from cuisine
to carpets, which were scattered around the press center as freebies.
The contestants got similar red-carpet treatment, put up in the
city's swankiest hotel, the Hilton, which is topped by a revolving
restaurant. Delegations including that of Britain's entry Engelbert
Humperdinck occupied entire floors.
Arguably this Eurovision was compromised from the start, as the
organizers -- and journalists -- agreed with Azerbaijan's entry
rules for foreigners clearly based on politics, despite the contest's
apolitical nature.
Azerbaijan does not allow entry to those who have visited "without its
permission" the Nagorny Karabakh region, which Armenian separatists
backed by Yerevan seized in a bloody war in the 1990s.
That immediately disqualified our nearest AFP correspondent in
Tbilisi. Later, our Armenian-surnamed but Russian national video
correspondent was mysteriously denied accreditation, the only one of
us not to get it.
But those who made it in were given a warm welcome at the airport,
with English-speaking volunteers explaining the visa paperwork and free
taxis into town. And the route from the airport was a showpiece with
people clipping the borders and spectacular new buildings including a
Trump Tower under construction, and an arts center named after Heidar
Aliyev designed by Zaha Hadid.
Especially if you were staying in the center, in the romantic Old City
or in the brand-new blue-glass Hilton, it was easy to get sucked in by
this seductive vision of up-and-coming Azerbaijan, without addressing
the darker side.
While particularly British media was out in force at protests, as well
as local independent journalists, many of the around 1,500 accredited
journalists seemed to haunt the Crystal Hall's media center. Over
the run-up to the final, it took on a cozy almost war-room feel with
national flags on tables and a conga-line when Turkey's Eurovision
entry was performing.
And some journalists seemed to stick to recording the minutiae of
Eurovision, still taken pretty seriously in some parts. I asked one
journalist if she was going to a protest as we got taxis from Crystal
Hall, thinking of sharing one. "No," she snapped.
The AFP team had a slightly grittier daily reality as our hotel
was well out of the center, thanks to a last-minute change by the
organizers, who block-booked hotels in advance. Our street had homely
barbers who hung their wet towels out to dry on the street, anarchic
traffic and apartment blocks where people had turned their balconies
into mid-air extensions.
We had no hardships, though. The worst I heard was a horror story from
one journalist that she was allocated a hotel with cockroaches in the
bathroom. She was moved to a luxury hotel after she complained, though.
Every day we drove to the center past the Heydar Aliyev Prospect
Street with its elaborate stone facades on what looked like Soviet
prefabs. The late president's name also cropped up in quotes over the
entrances to the ludicrously shiny and luxurious pedestrian underpasses
in the city center -- some of which even had open-air escalators.
With its unassailable location at the end of a pier sticking out into
the Caspian Sea, the Crystal Hall might as well have had a drawbridge
and moat. Police boats were posted around it, and a helicopter circled
on the evening of the final.
After ID checks, special buses took journalists to the press center
from the pier head. Then we went through more airport-style security
checks including a bag scan and a scan of our photo IDs.
Once inside, though, there were honeyed Paklava pastries, tea with
thyme and local milk drinks - all free - as well as occasional kebabs
smoked up on the deck.
The only glitch I noticed was after the second semi-final. After a
journalist badgered Swedish contestant Loreen - without results --
to comment on her meeting with opposition activists, the moderator
upbraided the journalist for spoiling the "great mood". About the
same time, an unmistakable stench flowed through the room. The crowd
booed the moderator for trying to censor the reporter, but by then
the journalists were fleeing the press center to escape what could
only have been a dramatic plumbing disaster.
by Anna Malpas
Agence France Presse
June 1 2012
Eye witness
Always an odd event, Eurovision had an extra layer of weirdness this
year from being hosted by Azerbaijan. It would be carping to say the
event was anything but magnificently organized and journalists were
lulled with all the 'goodie bags' and free food they could wish for.
But there was another side to the story.
Across town in an area of shoddy old Soviet blocks, we sat in a room
with hunger strikers. They were calling for the release of political
prisoners who were their friends and relatives, and telling us that
as international journalists, we were their only hope.
>From the plush press center of the Crystal Hall venue, it was just a
short taxi ride to a peaceful protest on the seafront, where police
ran through the strollers, detaining people including a man identified
by locals as a photographer for an opposition newspaper.
But probably unlike almost any other country in the contest, Azerbaijan
was happy to spend big money on the fun frills -- the light shows
playing on skyscrapers; the bushes sculpted into the Eurovision 2012
logo and the complimentary paperweights handed out to journalists
with drops of crude oil inside.
The Heidar Aliyev foundation headed by first lady Mehriban Aliyeva,
also shelled out on glossy books promoting Azeri culture from cuisine
to carpets, which were scattered around the press center as freebies.
The contestants got similar red-carpet treatment, put up in the
city's swankiest hotel, the Hilton, which is topped by a revolving
restaurant. Delegations including that of Britain's entry Engelbert
Humperdinck occupied entire floors.
Arguably this Eurovision was compromised from the start, as the
organizers -- and journalists -- agreed with Azerbaijan's entry
rules for foreigners clearly based on politics, despite the contest's
apolitical nature.
Azerbaijan does not allow entry to those who have visited "without its
permission" the Nagorny Karabakh region, which Armenian separatists
backed by Yerevan seized in a bloody war in the 1990s.
That immediately disqualified our nearest AFP correspondent in
Tbilisi. Later, our Armenian-surnamed but Russian national video
correspondent was mysteriously denied accreditation, the only one of
us not to get it.
But those who made it in were given a warm welcome at the airport,
with English-speaking volunteers explaining the visa paperwork and free
taxis into town. And the route from the airport was a showpiece with
people clipping the borders and spectacular new buildings including a
Trump Tower under construction, and an arts center named after Heidar
Aliyev designed by Zaha Hadid.
Especially if you were staying in the center, in the romantic Old City
or in the brand-new blue-glass Hilton, it was easy to get sucked in by
this seductive vision of up-and-coming Azerbaijan, without addressing
the darker side.
While particularly British media was out in force at protests, as well
as local independent journalists, many of the around 1,500 accredited
journalists seemed to haunt the Crystal Hall's media center. Over
the run-up to the final, it took on a cozy almost war-room feel with
national flags on tables and a conga-line when Turkey's Eurovision
entry was performing.
And some journalists seemed to stick to recording the minutiae of
Eurovision, still taken pretty seriously in some parts. I asked one
journalist if she was going to a protest as we got taxis from Crystal
Hall, thinking of sharing one. "No," she snapped.
The AFP team had a slightly grittier daily reality as our hotel
was well out of the center, thanks to a last-minute change by the
organizers, who block-booked hotels in advance. Our street had homely
barbers who hung their wet towels out to dry on the street, anarchic
traffic and apartment blocks where people had turned their balconies
into mid-air extensions.
We had no hardships, though. The worst I heard was a horror story from
one journalist that she was allocated a hotel with cockroaches in the
bathroom. She was moved to a luxury hotel after she complained, though.
Every day we drove to the center past the Heydar Aliyev Prospect
Street with its elaborate stone facades on what looked like Soviet
prefabs. The late president's name also cropped up in quotes over the
entrances to the ludicrously shiny and luxurious pedestrian underpasses
in the city center -- some of which even had open-air escalators.
With its unassailable location at the end of a pier sticking out into
the Caspian Sea, the Crystal Hall might as well have had a drawbridge
and moat. Police boats were posted around it, and a helicopter circled
on the evening of the final.
After ID checks, special buses took journalists to the press center
from the pier head. Then we went through more airport-style security
checks including a bag scan and a scan of our photo IDs.
Once inside, though, there were honeyed Paklava pastries, tea with
thyme and local milk drinks - all free - as well as occasional kebabs
smoked up on the deck.
The only glitch I noticed was after the second semi-final. After a
journalist badgered Swedish contestant Loreen - without results --
to comment on her meeting with opposition activists, the moderator
upbraided the journalist for spoiling the "great mood". About the
same time, an unmistakable stench flowed through the room. The crowd
booed the moderator for trying to censor the reporter, but by then
the journalists were fleeing the press center to escape what could
only have been a dramatic plumbing disaster.