I was in the car with my family coming back from Cork when I got the email of a lifetime. Despite not getting the job I had applied for (a freelance journalist and editor who would be responsible for co-ordinating the documentation team and working on innovative features), I had been invited to attend the Bibu / ASSITEJ Artistic Gathering 2022 as a student on placement in Helsingborg, Sweden, in two weeks’ time.
What followed were several frantic hours of scouring the internet for the best prices on flights at such short notice as well as several very exciting introductions from my mother who frequents these festivals as a delegate and an artist. She put me in touch with everyone I needed to know before flying out.
Eventually, the fateful day came for me to catch my flights to Copenhagen. As I wheeled one of the giant, grey suitcases along the airport floor to get it checked in, my mom snuck two last little pieces into my coat pockets – “just in case”, she said.
And it’s a good thing she did because I had completely forgotten to bring a mask with me.
This would have been fine, except that flights to and from Switzerland still required masks on the plane. Panic averted, I thought, as I settled into my seat for the hour-long flight to Zürich.
There’s a point at which you cross a bridge going over the sea, visible from the plane as it descends towards the airport, and as it raced past I could feel the excitement building
Panic most certainly was not averted. Our flight was over an hour delayed from taking off due to staff shortages, and I had a layover to make. I remember panic-texting my parents about what to do if I miss my layover because of the delay while munching on the chocolate they had handed out as consolation to the passengers. Fortunately, I made my layover and was able to make it to Copenhagen well before the train departed.
The train across the sea from Copenhagen to Helsingborg was spectacular, even in the dark. There’s a point at which you cross a bridge going over the sea, visible from the plane as it descends towards the airport, and as it raced past I could feel the excitement building (or perhaps that was just the Eurovision soundtrack in the background). I arrived safely in my hotel at around midnight and was absolutely flattened, but I did stay up later to enjoy a glass of wine and the Eurovision party.
First thing, next morning, we went right to work. I met with Chris, the man in charge of the documentation team, and had a chat about what needed to be done that day before we could start, and I was then whisked off to lunch with the Executive Committee (EC).
The next two days were a bit of a whirlwind as we moved from venue to venue, setting up our recording equipment and making sure everything was working. I learned quite a bit by watching my colleagues set up their equipment, not least of which is that there is a certain type of camera plug that has two variations referred to as “male” and “female”. Needless to say, it was bizarre to hear them talk about “male adaptors” being plugged into “female plugs”, but that conversation did make for a fantastic innuendo.
What followed were several frantic hours of scouring the internet for the best prices on flights at such short notice, as well as several very exciting introductions from my mother who frequents these festivals
Before I knew it, D-Day had arrived, and as we tucked into our hotel breakfast, we made a plan. There were four of us on the team: Melissa, the person who got the job I had applied for and was responsible for investigative features and written pieces; Eleanor, who had just completed her masters and was attending the festival on a placement programme — she was in charge of digital media and cameras; Nishna, who was also on the EC and was in charge of social media and myself — I was in charge of written features and documentation. Eventually I ended up with our one working camera, so I took care of all the photos.
Fortunately, there wasn’t much happening that day apart from the opening ceremony and what was known as an “Artistic Encounter” in which all the delegates got to know each other. This was also the first time I encountered my mother at the festival. She had arrived barely two hours before the opening ceremony but had made it just in time. We celebrated and went out for dinner before I had to go attend a meeting with our group.
The evening meetings became a staple that week. Every night at 9pm, the five of us would gather in the Radisson Blu Hotel and discuss what we’d done that day, pieces that needed to be edited and what our plans were for the next day. A bit like running The University Times, actually.
The conference featured a number of indigenous acts and conferences discussing indigenous identities and culture in the modern day. I attended one of the panels that Wednesday morning on the first full day of activities. There were people from multiple indigenous tribes speaking on the panel, including people from Canada, the US, Australia, New Zealand and Sweden.
They served the most spectacular drink I’ve ever had, featuring raspberry and homemade rhubarb syrup with lemon juice and incredible Swedish gin
One of my favourite parts of the festival was getting to hear so many other people’s perspectives on culture and the arts and how they interact with it. ASSITEJ is a global network, so everyone comes at it from a different angle and with different cultural contexts.
In my case, I was finally able to put faces to the names I had heard so much about. I’m an ASSITEJ baby – my mom has been attending its festivals and conferences and shows for as long as I can remember, and she has been involved in Small Size (one of their sub networks) for almost a decade. She would always come back from festivals with tales of wild parties, workshops gone well and awry and memorabilia for all of us. We still fight over the “Cradle of Creativity” t-shirts.
I had always wondered what it would be like to attend one of the festivals and, despite not being much of a party person, I alway secretly wanted to go and see what happened. The stories my mom would tell were legendary – everything from gossip to drama to events that had happened to her opinions on the culture clashes between people and the various organisations.
I had workshops and shows to attend as part of my job, but some of the nicest moments were when my mom and I could go for sushi together or grab coffee in between shows before jetting off to catch another workshop. I had never seen her at work abroad before other than when she was running local festivals, and I really started to appreciate just how cool my mom was as I met the people who knew her for her work rather than through my dad or in relation to us as a family.
Every night at 9pm, the five of us would gather in the Radisson Blu Hotel and discuss what we’d done that day, pieces that needed to be edited and what our plans were for the next day
That night we had the first of many “Bibu Bars”, where all 800-odd delegates gathered in the foyer of the Radisson Blu Hotel for drinks and chats after all the performances and seminars had finished for the day. They served the most spectacular drink I’ve ever had, featuring raspberry and homemade rhubarb syrup with lemon juice and incredible Swedish gin. I had quite a few of those over the course of the week.
The evenings were spent in conversation with just about everyone you could possibly think of, from American delegates to Nigerian theatre-owners to native Sámi people. It was there that I met most of the people involved with the festival and ended up making friends and contacts to use in years to come.
There was one evening in particular that stood out from the rest. We had an “Indigenous Evening”, in which the people from all the different indigenous groups at the festival were welcomed into the organisation and invited to share parts of their cultures with the attendees. About halfway through the night, the delegates from China decided to show everyone how to do a traditional dance. The entire room stood up and made a circle around the tables as we all tried to figure out the steps, and the two delegates began singing a traditional song. The dancing style was reminiscent of an Irish céilí session, with everyone having fun together. It was a moment of unity for everyone that really defined the festival.
No travel experience would be complete without some misadventures, and I certainly had my fair share of mishaps with navigating a new city through a different language. The first time I got on a bus in Helsingborg, I was meticulous about checking the bus number, the route, counting the stops… but I forgot to check that the bus was actually going in the right direction. I ended up on the outskirts of the city and had to make my way back to the city centre, and as a result I missed one of the workshops I had been looking forward to. It was worth it, though, because that was the first time I didn’t completely panic upon stumbling into this situation.
One of my favourite parts of the festival was getting to hear so many other people’s perspectives on culture and the arts and how they interact with it
Another time, I was trying to get to a masterclass being run by my mom and Barbara Kölling, but I could not for the life of me find where the bus stop was supposed to be. I walked around in circles trying to figure out where this mysteriously invisible bus stop was located. I thought to myself: “surely, despite my trust issues, Google Maps wouldn’t lead me astray!”
I ended up being about half an hour late and got lost in the building trying to find where on Earth they were holding this masterclass. Turns out nobody knew it was on so nobody turned up, so what should have been a great discussion and workshop turned into a 15-minute chat between my mom, Kölling and I about the show they had seen. It was certainly an interesting discussion and very enlightening for me as someone who doesn’t know much about the inner workings of early years arts, but it was disappointing nevertheless to see them be so let down.
I did see some absolutely incredible shows while I was there, with many of them presented by the indigenous artists at the festival. Shel We provided a fascinating look at the poetry of Shel Silverstein through dance and set design, telling a story beyond indigenous identities. I remember talking to the guys who were presenting it and their excitement at telling this fascinating story and weaving it all together.
Mistatim was another masterpiece, brought by the Canadian delegation. It centred on a white boy, whose father owns a horse ranch near a reservation, and a Native girl who lives on the reservation, and through their efforts to tame and understand a wild horse named Misatim, they grow closer to each other and understand more about their respective worlds. The story didn’t shy away from dealing with heavy topics either – it dealt with racism, the missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls and abuse and corporal punishment within families. But it dealt with the topics in a manner that pre-teens could understand and empathise with.
I walked around in circles trying to figure out where this mysteriously invisible bus stop was located
Perhaps the most memorable show that I saw in my time there was Barrowland Ballet’s Playful Tiger. The show has won accolades across the world for its well-researched presentation of a show designed to provide a fulfilling sensory experience, and it has inspired many others to emulate that style. The basic premise is that a tiger comes to play at the home of two very uptight people and encourages them to let loose and have fun to experience something new. The show uses orange as a central design element, and everything from the lighting to the set design to the costumes to the props had it incorporated in some way.
Watching the show was like having all of my sensory needs fulfilled at once. I had been finding some of the stimulation difficult to deal with because I was trying to adjust to being there, but the show scratched a primordial part of my brain that I wasn’t even aware needed attention until I experienced the sheer joy of just the right amount of sensory input. If it ever comes to Ireland, I would highly recommend everyone to go see it, regardless of whether you’re neurodivergent.
So, my trip to Sweden and my first outing as a working journalist was remarkably successful on the whole. Between workshops and performances and eating sushi and networking, the week went by in a blur, and I’m still processing it. But I have to say that it was one of the best experiences of my life, and it was an excellent way to start my tenure as Editor of this newspaper. Should the opportunity arise to do the same thing in the future (and I sincerely hope it does), I would gladly take it.
