Crazy about Eurovision

All my conscious life I remember myself and people around me having a “love-hate relationship” with Eurovision Song Contest. Even though nearly all of my friends and relatives claim they don’t like “that kind of music”, we haven’t missed a single Eurovision. Wherever you are that special day in May, the TV is always on, and everybody is waiting anxiously for “our” entry.

The majority of my life I watched Eurovision together with my family or friends in Lithuania. Even one day before the final Maths exam in high school, even one week before submitting my BA thesis – Eurovision did not lose its strange importance. The most common mood after every contest used to be – “we were very good, but they didn’t understand us.” I saw the same mood spreading among representatives of many nations, when watching the competition with other Erasmus students in 2007. This year I had a chance to watch Eurovision in a new way again – I watched it together with people of one, but other than my own, nation. As it appeared later – it was the nation which won.


Already a week before Eurovision, D. invites the Creative Industries people to watch the contest together with him and his friends. It is their yearly tradition to gather around the big screen in VIP room of Kristiansand’s Sør Arena. Also traditionally, D. and his friends place bets for their favorite contestants and then party until the morning, spending the prize of the (usually) generous winner.

The word “VIP” brings all the corresponding images from American films to my head. I imagine a dark room with neon lights, built up with extremely comfortable sofas and many dark corners for privacy. Fancy dressed people are chatting and laughing on the sofas with full glasses of champagne. There is a huge TV screen all over the front wall, but nobody is interested in the show itself that much.

On the special Saturday Will and me meet E. and I. outside our house. It appears that the arena is just a 15 minute walk away from our apartment. I. is wearing a beautiful blue dress, and my suspicions about the fanciness of the party become stronger. I am a bit sorry that I haven’t chosen the outfit more carefully myself.

As we walk, E. tells that K. is not going to come, so there are going to be the four of us among D.’s friends. We walk through a nice neighborhood Will and me haven’t explored yet. Just next to the arena there is ICA Maxi supermarket – it is useful new information as we used to walk all the way downtown for shopping before.

At the arena we spend a while looking for the (maybe super-secret?) entrance to the VIP lounge. We see people partying at one of the entrances and assume that this might be our company. We only know one person in the group we are supposed to join, therefore a bunch of strangers seems perfectly suitable to us. The strangers are mostly middle-aged men and they also seem quite happy about the possibility of three young ladies (and Will) joining them. However, precisely the demographic characteristics of the strangers make us doubt if they are what we are looking for. We ask them if this is the VIP lounge and, having received the negative reply, continue our search.

Encountering already quite drunk people at 8 PM reminds me once again that Norwegians like to party in the light. We are ready to join the trend, but still have to find our party first. The door, which our new acquaintances have shown to us as the VIP entrance, appears to be locked. Finally, E. calls K. and finds out that the VIP lounge is totally on the other side of the building. Getting there we have to pass the strangers party again, who apologize for the wrong directions and friendly wave to us.

When we finally get into the VIP lounge, approximately 20 minutes are left until the contest starts. The lounge itself looks a bit differently from what I imagined. The place looks more like a sports bar than a VIP lounge. Instead of one big screen, there are many (not so big) screens all around the room, and instead of comfy sofas we find tall chairs. There is no mysterious darkness with neon lights either. As I suspected, we are going to party in daylight again.

However, the impressive feature of this bar (and I guess – that’s why it is called a VIP lounge) is that through the big windows you have a full view to a football stadium and, even more, you can access the stands just by opening the door. The arena belongs to the local football club Start, which is not really a leading football club in Norway, but regardless has a massive support from Kristiansand’s people. I remember how alarmed Will and I were, when we went to the city centre for the first time and found it completely empty. “What are we going to do in this town? – we thought.” Then from one bar we happened to hear a TV, seemingly in the middle of a “dramatic football match.” When the next day we heard people at work talking about an important match Start played last night, it became very clear why the city was so empty. One can say that we learned about the importance of Start through a personal experience.

Back at the Eurovision evening excitement grows, especially when we find out that local beer is cheaper than ever and champagne is nearly for free. Our group goes for both of them (which later turns out to be not the best decision for some of us). Everybody is also provided with as much of original Start crisps as they want.
From what the National TV shows before the contest, it seems that in Norway Alexander Rybak is already considered a winner. In his speech the minister of culture, religion and sport greets the “great talent”. The Norwegian journalist talks to a majority of other contestants in Moscow, and they all seem to agree that Alexander is among the leaders. The general atmosphere on the television seems relaxed and confident.

Five minutes before the start D. gives a speech about the rules of placing the bets and the general rules of the evening. The speech is in Norwegian, and the only rule I understand is no betting before we hear the music. “Because only the best music wins!” D. reveals that his personal favorite is Malta and encourages others to bet for the Maltese singer as well. This is D.’s strategy to distract others from betting for Norway, but it doesn’t seem to be going to work. People are just laughing at the attempt, and when D. comes to our table, he admits that everybody is going to bet for Norway this year, no matter what. Like the others, D. is absolutely convinced that Norway will win. Unfortunately, everyone guessing the winner correctly means no real winner in the bets.

E. translates another important rule of the evening to Will and me. We would be breaching the alcohol license agreement even if we drank beer one step behind the door. As seemingly all alcohol-related rules in Norway, this one is very strict. The lounge is the only place we can drink – even if we sit in the empty arena stands (just behind the door of the lounge), the bar could be punished.

And so the contest begins. Lithuanian representative is the first one to go on the stage, and I feel slightly embarrassed, because nobody in the VIP lounge is listening to him. The feeling of disappointment mutates into the feeling of relief, when Sasha Son decides to finish his song in Russian. Abroad I quite often hear questions if we speak Russian in Lithuania and if we at all have our own language. I have to explain over and over again that we do have a language, which is not even of Slavic origin. So now I feel a peculiar relief – people didn’t listen to Sasha Son, so his song did not add to the confusion about languages, at least not in the VIP lounge in Sør Arena.

After the performance D. comes up to our table and says that if he before thought everybody should place the bets for Malta, now he is absolutely sure Lithuania will be the winner. Translation: it was really boring, even more boring than Malta. A few other people come to say that the Lithuanian guy looked like Justin Timberlake, but was boring. I have to say that the opportunity to watch Eurovision together with another nation than my own is an enlightening experience. Whenever Lithuanian singers get few points in Eurovision, the recurrent theme in the media and internet forums is that we are “too good” – the European public does not understand our “arty” performances. The second popular explanation is that we don’t have good neighbors to vote for us. But here I go to Norway and get a simple and sincere reaction – the Lithuanian performance was just boring.

The people around us in the lounge are around thirty, good looking and well dressed, talking and laughing loudly, sometimes behaving a tad eccentrically. All in all, there are around 100 people, who all seem to know each other - lots of hugging and kissing is going on. I ask E., who are these people and how D. knows them. “Ah, they are pretty much Kristiansand’s musical elite, - E. explains.”

The elite is definitely having a great time and enjoying themselves. However, not only the first singer of the evening seems to have performed unnoticed. Eurovision is clearly only a background for this party, an excuse to gather and have fun both from seeing each other and from mocking the “euro-trash” music. Looking back to my previous Eurovision experience, I realize that this has probably always been the reason why me, my friends and family watch it. In a way, Eurovision is like Christmas, only better – it brings families and friends together, providing a fun reason to see each other and a non-commital, relaxed atmosphere.

If I were to provide a recipe for a winning song in Eurovision, I would say – make a song, which would attract the attention of a happy, more or less drunk company, where people are much more interested in each other than in what’s going on the screen. Songs which make our company stare at the screen and move together are the Greek entry and the Ukrainian girl. The Swedish entry draws the people’s attention by its extreme weirdness. Our table (especially E. and me) are mesmerized by the calm and solid Estonian song, but then again I have to admit that we are not so well integrated in the common crazy-party mood. We have come as a four and we pretty much stay as a four, observing everything a bit from a distance. Only I. spends more time with other people as it seems she has known quite a few of them before. Nevertheless, we are having a good time together and plenty of opportunities to observe. Even in parties (and maybe - especially in parties) you cannot forget that you are in a research field!

Still, one more component of such an evening seems to be a tingling feeling about “our” entry. This feeling is dominant in Lithuania, but it seems that Norway is not so different. Even if it is a “trash” competition, “we” want to win. So, when it’s time for Alexander Rybak to perform, the whole VIP lounge goes crazy. Even the alternative music “prophets”, who were before laughing at other entries and clearly not taking the whole competition seriously, now stand up singing every single word of Fairytale. I am wondering: do they really like it?..

Norway’s entry is the last one in this year’s competition, and the voting starts. There is a lot of shouting and applauding after all the big points for Norway (that means applauding nearly all the time). There is some lonely applause from our table when Lithuania or England get their points. However, generally I have given in to the general mood and happily applaud to Alexander Rybak. It feels good to have something to feel happy about and being part of a happy crowd.

However, you can feel that it was expected when Norway finally wins. It seems that people are even glad the TV broadcast is finally over. There is a bit of general chaos, as you can expect from slightly drunk people, but the news spreads that now everybody is going to Frk. Larsen as D. is DJing there. Somebody calls taxis, our four goes outside and fits into a cab. E. and Will feel tired and want to go home, but together with I. we convince them to go downtown at least for one drink. Contrarily to Will, I am very much in a party mood now and continue singing Fairytale (and, unfortunately, will come back to it many times before we get home).

I also want to dance, but when we arrive to Frk. Larsen, it is packed with people. In general, I. and E. were a bit confused, when I asked where one can dance in Kristiansand. It doesn’t seem that people really go dancing here… From what we have experienced in a month here, there are three main places for going out – Kick, Charlie’s and Frk. Larsen. In none of them people dance. Charlie’s is small and packed – everybody just drinks and talks. The evening we went to Kick, the music was playing, and there even was space, but nobody danced. Together with I. we tried to dance at Frk. Larsen, but were constantly pushed by passing by people as there wasn’t really a dance floor anywhere. The attempt to dance also showed to me that Norwegians are not very polite when they accidentally hit you or push you. Usually they don’t say anything and pretend that nothing has happened. That is a huge change after England, where they are sorry even if you push them.

Back at the Eurovision evening, we are completely squeezed at Frk. Larsen. You can’t even move, not to talk about dancing. Moreover, Will and E. are tired and, most importantly, all of us have to wake up early tomorrow to attend the Constitution day celebrations. Therefore, one more drink and we head home in order to sleep well and be all fresh for the parades.