In Verona They Speak English

by Robert Peck

Actually, most natives prefer "I'italiano," but there were precious few Italian jugglers in Verona . Among the 2,000-plus participants at the 14th European Jugglers Convention, the great majority came from German-speaking countries and possessed an excellent command of the English language. The second-most numerous contingent of jugglers, and the convention organizers, all hailed from British soil.

So it's easy to see why English became the convention's common language. Needless to say, this made the European experience a lot less foreign than most of us American first-timers expected.

Language aside, there were major differences from IJA festivals. Some were hard to swallow. Imagine no juniors, intermediate, senior or teams championships!

But also imagine one of the world's greatest juggling bargains! For starters, $23 and change got you a gym pass, access to all workshops, open stages and shows, the chance to participate in the games, plus four nights lodging... and a blue kazoo.

Symbolic of the European JuggIing Association's determinedly unconventional style, the kazoo served simultaneously as proof of registration, daily entrance pass and irresistible invitation to collective improvisation on bus rides, between games, during intermissions, etc.

Miraculously, even rowdy and raucous jugglers didn't choose to abuse their kazoos during performances or largely ad-libbed demonstrations at either the official Public Show (Saturday night) the Pre-Public Shpw (Friday night), the opening Celebratory Cabaret (Thursday night) or the final Renegade Show (Sunday night). Unlike an IJA festival package plan, the $23 registration didn't include a Welcome Party, dance, t-shirt, etc. However, it did provide unlimited use of myriad gym locker rooms replete with storage space and showers, and virtually free admission to what had to be one of the world's longest, widest, most sparklingly fresh outdoor swimming pools... plus a marvelously equipped morning-till-midnight day care center.

But, "Surprise! Surprise!" There were a few pitfalls along the pathways to paradise. Suffice it to say not everything in Italy "fonctione" properly. Perhaps inexpensive inevitably entails some inconvenience. While meals were moderately priced, the choice was minimal and most were mediocre. Lodging was a foam mattress on the floor of classrooms converted into 20-to-60-person coed dormitory. Many vets came prepared and took advantage of the numerous nearby camp­grounds for both tents and trailers.

Going to the bathroom also involved an element of roughing it. Instead of sitting on a toilet seat one had to straddle a dank, increasingly odiferous hole. Even as one became adept at squatting, the possibility of not finding any toilet paper became more ominous as the weekend wore on.

On the brighter side, workshops in a wide variety of props and juggIing­related areas were offered

daily. Convention organizers Doug Orton and Jules Howarth and the volunteers saw to it that every available space was utilized, resulting in over five different workshop locations.

Workshops were, however, a bit haphazard.  Scheduling became a function of whoever showed up and was willing to teach.  Most offerings weren't announced until the day they were offered, and posted on a maze of hand-lettered poster-sized placards taped on to a big pillar outside the gym or along the back wall of the typically mobbed main registration tent.

In fairness, Chris, who graciously volunteered at the eleventh hour to fill the void of workshop coordinator, did a great job of ferreting out and rallying interest among potential teachers. The menu of workshops included some creative offerings, such as one club manipulation, three and four ball multiplex, mime and clowning, creative movement and dance, comic recoveries (a.k.a. Drop Shop), flying trapeze, shiatsu massage, meditation and lasso.