Quatre-Quarts, (Four Quarters) do a four person club passing act. In the first part of the act, the premise is that two members are passing, and two are there to pick up the drops and put them back into the pattern. Obviously there are a lot of intentional drops which are put back in various ways, then two clubs which were not dropped get put into the pattern "accidentally," leaving the principals passing eight. They then go into some four person work with a lot of movement around the stage and throw in different patterns, but very little of the "garbage" throws that are the staples of US club passers. I think an essay on the differences between US and European club passing styles may be on the way, with a footnote explaining why Martin Frost is really a European, but not tonight.

 

OK, who was next? Oh, yes, Gerald. (Say it with a heavy French accent, he's from Toulouse. So are Quatre-Quarts and Aurelien ­the circus school there is clearly the place to be from.) He wears a commedia dell'arte mask and a long orange skirt and manipulates one diabolo with a piece of elastic held between his hands - "Look Ma, no hand sticks!" His routine is strange, different and beautiful. He then works with two diabolos, using hand sticks and ordinary string this time. He sits on a stool and swings the pattern around his knees, takes both hand sticks in one hand and walks round the spinning diabolos, and finishes by running two in one hand while looking the other way. There are a few drops in the second pan of the routine, but apparently he nailed it in the second show.

 

Yorg performs a two-sided cigar box routine. His friendly face is in white makeup, but when he turns his head, a mask on the back of his head reveals his evil twin. The boxes move from front to back and back again - he even does several moves blind behind his back. There are a few drops, but it is a nicely presented act.

 

A Japanese juggler, Takao, does a brief but delightful hat routine. I would like to see more of his work. Finally, the show is closed by Jochen's wonderful ring routine. It is smoother than it was in Vegas last year, and includes some new stuff, but there are still some drops. In another couple of years this will be the best ring routine in the world.

 

It Is a really good show. There are a tremendous variety of acts with the emphasis on presentation, rather than raw technique. I'm happy to be here.

 

After the show it takes a while to bus everyone back again. In the gym, there is a small game of combat going on, while over next ro the little big top there is a fire spitting workshop. It appears that in Europe they don't know the meaning of the word "lawsuit."

 

Saturday, August 17. Grenoble.

Vin de]our: Beaumes de Venise Cote du Rhone Villages.

 

Son Ian has gone missing again. We track him down outside the fence. He is happy to demonstrate how easy it is to climb in. Why did we bother to buy him a pass? Actually, for most of the festival he has not used a pass, as his big brother lost his on the second day, and since Ian only looks five years old, we gave his pass to Dan. The passes are one of those puzzles where you slide 15 tiles around in a four-by-four frame. When solved, you get a picture of two stick figures passing clubs from Alp to Alp. I attempt to do personality analysis based on whether people go around with their puzzles solved or unsolved, but am thwarted by the fact that many jugglers, being anarchists at heart, do not bother to wear them.

 

Who is that strange bearded figure in the blue big top running three diabolos on the string for a long time? Must be Guy Heathcote! The best run I see is about 60 catches, and yes, he is making corrections with the right hand stick. The guy I saw running three diabolos earlier in the week was starting one, then throwing two in consecutively. Guy starts with two and lets them run in a really small loop until they are almost touching before he throws the third in. Donald Grant has also turned up, just for the weekend, so there is a pretty wild diabolo workshop.

 

The games are planned at the last minute. I think it was Tom Renegade who suggests that the prizes should be a bouquet of baguettes and a bottle of vin rouge. I stay for the shoe, shirt and shilling juggle, diabolo long toss, blindfold unicycling, balance and five ball endurance, but lose interest during the limbo competition.

 

The business meeting is translated into English, French, German, Italian and sometimes Spanish. All country representatives are elected unopposed, as nobody can face the prospect of running an election in five languages. The ubiquitous Jules, MC of almost everything and co-president of the EJA, asks if there are any proposals for next year's festival. At first it seems as if there will be none, but the Italian contingent starts shouting from the back, "ltalia! "

 

"Where in Italy?" asks Jules, not too hopefully. "Torino!" He discovers that there are 100 jugglers in Turin who would like to host a convention there, and they have been looking at the possibility for six months. Jules seems a little taken aback, and asks that next time people let the committee know before the meeting so they can evaluate the bid and present it properly. Be that as it may, Turin is the only bid, so unless the EJA decides that it is not feasible to hold the convention there, that is where the 1997 event will be.

 

The organizers stand up to take praise and comments. There is long loud applause for them, but they all look too tired to enjoy it. I leave before people start complaining about the bathrooms. Haven't these people tried using the trees?

 

Already some of the tents in the campground are vanishing, leaving patches of brown and yellow grass behind. The people who have driven here from Germany and England have to leave now to get back to work on Monday morning. The German group next to us leaves us their left-over wine and toilet paper.

 

Captain Bob's Circus is running an unofficial bar and restaurant serving good wholesome British food, instead of all this foreign muck. Tonight the menu is mashed potato, fried eggs and bread, with ketchup and mustard. Luckily we have already eaten. The bar serves punch, beer, spirits and a mixed drink called the Willie Nelson Experience. Captain Bob's is clearly the place to be, for the Brits, at least.

 

One side of the bar is a double decker bus that has driven here from England at a top speed of 33 m.p.h. Another side is a truck. Blue tarps form an improvised awning. The tables are full so we settle down on the mats placed on the ground and hang out with the Bristol crowd. We wander off to bed some time around 2 a.m.

 

Sunday August 18. Grenoble, Val D'lsere.

Vin de jour: "33" Export biere blonde.

 

At 7 a.m., the 50 or so people who have stayed up partying all night make a tour of the campground playing music and cheering to wake everybody up. I curse them heartily. May all their croissants turn to dust in their mouths, may their wine turn to vinegar, and may their baguettes be forever stale!

 

I get up and have a chat with Tarim before he goes to bed. He claims to have had one early night so far at this convention, confessing that one night he went to bed while it was still dark! We break camp, pack our gear into the Twingo, and head further up into the mountains.

 

And that was the 19th European Juggling Convention.