But today I blog about being part of a rich European traditions that has brought entertainment and warmed the cockles of many a heart for several decades.
The absolutely fabulously monstrously and delectably trashy Eurovision Song Contest. Haven't heard of it? Read here to get a quickie intro from a nicely spelt out Slate article. Established in 1956, each country essentially contributes a song (which is again chosen based on popular voting) which they pit against all the others in a holy yowling contest. By looking at some of the entries, the one thing which is outstandingly clear is that poppy gobbledygook wins out against any kind of actual musical straining, and the weirder the outfits, the makeup and the general 'offering' you present - the higher the chances of you actually winning.
I rest my case.
or of course my favorite who is also mentioned in the Slate article - random Ukranian of indeterminate sexuality, whose silver cone and shades are the fashion dreams of Rajnikant.
So there I was, surrounded by a fairly mixed-ish bunch, all of whom had decided to watch the contest together (it seems to be a rather community exercise) although primarily composed of Germans, who were cheering on one of their own - little Lena, who shot to fame last year with her irritatingly catchy 'Satellite' (I swear - just as much as you want to kill her during the song, you will want to kill yourself for humming it right after ... that is if you're through trying to figure exactly WHAT accent that is)
I found myself the sole supporter of the Italian and Spanish factions, who I thought were fairly funky with a jazz number and a very poppy thing respectively, but of course, I was sneered down by the crowds who didn't think very high of my ratings.
The Italian dude - helped he was kinda cute too :-)
The Spanish contribution - thought it was fairly Livin La Vida Loca Loca ish, but however this WAS not very well received.
THIS was the winning entry from Azerbaijan, a really downright low tempo duet with a random guy and chick who looks like a cross between Beyonce and JLo.
So coming to the point of the post - that is the point of the Eurovision Song Contest. Its kinda like Indian Idol, but where you have to ONLY go through the top 25 songs, they're regionally picked, there's no reality crap, and you have to endure this only ONCE in a year. Sounds fair? I thought so too. And oh, the most important point - government sponsored, so no ads. Phew.
Cheers
Sushma