(Versione italiana)

After all this time, memories are beginning to fade. However, let’s see what turns up.

 

First of all, I have to add a detail to my former report: French friend Patrick on a mailing list remarked that the subject of the Saturday panel with China Miéville was “Is there too much homoeroticism in fantasy for real homosexuality?”, and Miéville had been invited there as “token straight”. I approve: sf people are democratic people, we respect minorities. Anyway, I can’t see how I could forget such an important detail: either because of my fatigue drunkenness, or, as usual, because of my hormones, which at the sight of such a token silenced without too much diplomacy my already hidden lesbian side.

 

Let’s get back now to our report.

For dinner, I find myself at an Indian restaurant with annafdd, Benjamin Rosenbaum and a group of Americans, after taking a few picturesque photos.

 

Too bad I was so tired, because I was sitting just in front of Benjamin, who went on entertaining us with his gags and more, such as a very erudite explanation of his theory about Jonas’ book, which, according to him, was originally a comic, or at least parodistic, tale, which was completely misunderstood. Unfortunately, because of my fatigue I wasn’t able to follow everything he (or anyone else) said, and I just kept on languishing in a digestive drowse until we left the restaurant.

 

After dinner, first we went back to the Exhibition Centre, and then to the Hilton, where all the parties took place, while annafdd went on dragging me all over with superhuman energy – or at least that’s what it seemed to me, having no energy left – and introducing me to representatives of the fandom from all over the world, people whom - alas - I remember now only vaguely.

She also explained me those parties were organized to promote candidate cities to future Worldcon editions (or even previous Worldcon editions, what’s the use of inventing the time machine otherwise?). I just felt miserable because there was so much to eat and drink there that I regretted having dinner at the Indian restaurant. And paying for it, of course.

 

In the meantime, I made a big mistake: I told annafdd I had forgotten to bring a towel. I always forget something when I travel, and naturally, I realize it when it’s too late. I even tried once to forget something on purpose, hoping to exorcize forgetfulness, but it didn’t work. Well, I think so. Actually, I don’t remember.

 

Anyway. I was speaking of the towel. Well, if I had stayed at a hotel there would have been no problem, of course, but in order to save money I had chosen the wonderful Bluesky Hostel, so the problem was real.

annafdd  started chasing a towel for me: every time she introduced me to someone, she told him/her about this story, and asked if they had an extra towel. I’ll be remembered as “the woman who didn’t have a towel”. We roamed all over the Hilton chasing the precious item, trying to sneak into prohibited rooms, finding parties where doors were hermetically closed, feeling sure that inside there had to be a towel, and wondering, finally, if a conspicuous number of paper napkins from the parties wouldn’t do. The conclusion was, I decided I would buy a new towel the following day. annafdd then had a great idea: ‘At the dealers’ room I have seen “Don’t panic” towels!’. It’s decided: the next day’s mission will be buying the ‘Don’t panic’ towel.

 

I think eventually I went to bed around 2 a.m., or even later, which means I didn’t sleep for 24 hours, except for a nap on the shuttle from Paris to the airport, something I wasn’t able to repeat on the airplane because a nice guy took out of his case a maxi Toblerone, filling the Ryanair aircraft of chocolate scents which, after a generous breakfast, had only the effect of provoking dangerous, and unpleasant, peristaltic movements. Luckily, I don’t suffer from air sickness.

 

The following day, then, starts another chase to the savage towel. I won’t go into the details of how I got along without one at the hostel, but I want to make clear that I did have my shower. Actually, the day’s other mission was harpooning Pat Cadigan and try to have an interview with her, and I think I wouldn’t have been very convincing if I had kept the previous day’s exhalations.

 

By the way. About the previous day, there is a detail I forgot to mention in the other report: at the entry, we found two signs, one above the other, the first one announcing that Iain Banks (and, incidentally, J.K. Rowling) would not attend the convention, and the other one announcing that Iain M. Banks would be present on Sunday.

We concluded the science fiction author would be present, not the fiction author (to understand the difference, have a look at Banks’ website).

 

First stop, then, at the dealers’ room. This time I’m alone, I don’t have a rendezvous with Anna, we know we’ll meet somehow. I get to the ‘Don’t panic’ stand to discover the towel costs 15 pounds. Well, I had already decided to buy a Worldcon souvenir, so no problem for the price. The real problem is when I open my wallet and see I only have 5 pounds left. I ask the people at the stand to keep my towel and leave, determined to get money from the cash dispenser. But I realize all of a sudden I’m going to miss a panel I’m interested in, I think ‘The Best New Feminism SF’: it must be that, because it’s one of the panels which were scheduled at the same time as George R.R. Martin’s reading, which, as you can see, was quite successful.

 

And about Martin, now I have a doubt: was it the evening of the previous day (on Saturday) or of that day (on Sunday) that we found Martin before us in the queue of people waiting for a taxi and, later, at one of the parties?The only one who can tell is Anna, so she’s kindly requested to leave a message both in the Italian version and in the English one, please.

 

 

Well, I’ve written too much for today. I think the towel story can wait. And Pat Cadigan too.

Or can’t they?

(Versione italiana)

 

Arriving in the town where the World Science Fiction convention is taking place to hear the bus driver speak like Scotty – especially a few days after James Doohan beamed himself to another, maybe better life – has quite a puzzling effect. You don’t understand a word of what he says, to begin with, and in addition to that, you imagine he’s telling you: “Warp 7, and a wee bit more”, and you don’t know which planet you’re in anymore.

But the Worldcon is literates’ stuff, Star Trek is not at home here. Of course, you may spot a few Klingons here and there, but it’s clear they’re not in the right place, sort of illegal immigrants who somehow managed to have a residence permit. Here the protagonists are others.

Because the great truth revealed at this year’s Worldcon is that science fiction, fantasy and reality have the same protagonists: cats.

 

Let’s start from the beginning.

I arrive in the afternoon, around 4, after the puzzling experience with the warp bus driver, at the Exhibition Centre, where I register at the press room. Although I had announced in advance my presence, they haven’t prepared a badge with my name on it, so for three days my name will simply be  “Press”.

Someone, considering the badge position, will be tempted to actually “press” something”. Someone will do it. But the details are not supposed to be made public. Not in this part of the story, at least. Which doesn’t mean you’re not authorized to ask in private. However, someone else has preferred to avoid misunderstandings on this respect.

As for the badge, you can easily understand that when I had to take it off I felt a bit “de-press-ed”.

 

I wander through the long and large corridors and the vast rooms of the Exhibition Centre, my back heavy with the laptop in my rucksack and too many missing hours’ sleep: in Paris, where a friend hosted me, so that I could take the 7 a.m. shuttle to what is optimistically called the Beauvais-Tillé “airport”, I had woken up at 2.30 and never been able to sleep again.

 

I have got here convinced I would have no problem in orienting myself, because, as I always say, I could make it in Turkey all by myself, why shouldn’t I here?

In half an hour’s time I find myself sitting at a table, on the verge of crying. I take my mobile phone and send Silvio Sosio an sms, asking him where he and the other Italians are. Where can Italians be? At Ritazza’s, of course! (I’m sorry, no Ritazza pix, maybe I should have taken one).

 

Then I meet Silvio with ever-present Roberto Quaglia, and to speak frankly, from that moment on I don’t remember a lot. Maybe, being so sleepy and in the meantime feeling the relief for having found my fellow creatures, must have made me somehow drunk. I just hope I didn’t vomit on anyone.

 

Whatever it is, anyway, somewhere in the line of time I meet Anna Feruglio Dal Dan. That’s a turning point in my life. Because Anna, a Worldcon expert, starts dragging me around and introducing me to people from anywhere in the world (mostly Americans) and in the end I feel even more drunk than before.

To begin with, we try to slip into a room where is scheduled a panel with China Miéville, but we realize soon that breaking through the wall of groupies is an impossible mission. I must admit he’s a very fine male specimen of the human race. I can even swear I heard a male fan (even married, if my memory doesn’t fail me) say: “I’m straight, but I must admit that China...”. The person’s name will be revealed, of course, only to the highest bidder.

So, we have a walk, and after some time we go back to the same room, where the panel has finally ended. Here, while Anna chats with China awakening the groupies’ envy and suspicions, I ask Ellen Kushner if she remembers me. We met a couple of years ago in Lyon, at a friend’s home. She must be as good in remembering faces as I am, because she can’t remember me – on the other hand, if she hadn’t had a badge I wouldn’t have remembered her – but she recalls the occasion and asks me news of our mutual friend, that I actually haven’t seen for months. I take a picture of her, and after that Anna introduces me to China. I take a picture of him as well but, maybe the excitement, maybe hormones, whatever it is, the result isn’t exactly a masterpiece.

Then Anna introduces me to a real human volcano: Benjamin Rosenbaum, Hugo nominee in the Novelette section, an American who lived for some time in Italy – Siena – and in Switzerland, and who speaks some Italian. His description of the fights between the Sienese “contrade” has a hilarious effect on us, perhaps a stimulating one on him and surely a retarding one on my many lost hours’ sleep (I don’t know if the sexual joke works in English, but if it doesn’t, be aware that in Italian it was meant to be a sexual joke… well, I hope so).

 

We keep on wandering through corridors, and that’s how we meet John Scalzi, a guy who tells us he once put his first novel on his blog and that’s how he was found by a publisher, who decided to publish it, and after this experience he didn’t follow the advises of friends who told him not to try again the same technique, put another novel on his blog, and was published once again. I say: “Then you should take part to the panel we are going to, ‘Is Blogging Helping or Hurting Your Career?’.”. He replies: “Actually I’m the moderator in that panel”. Ah. Oups.

Well, we go to the panel. Interesting and amusing at the same time. I advise you to have a look at the videos I shot. You may download them here: first part, second part and third part. Be careful: they are between 20 and 30 megabytes each.

 

 

Unfortunately I didn’t record the happy ending, which gives the title, or at least part of it, to this post. At the beginning of the panel the participants had spoken of the huge success cats have on blogs (for instance, apparently Anna’s cat, Zip, here in the last picture uploaded by Anna on her Flickr page, has her own fan club), so in the end, when Eileen Gunn obliged Benjamin to pronounce no more than 10 words, he said: “Only five: It’s – all – about – the – cats”. Which became this convention’s refrain.

In the next episodes we’ll speak of towels. And maybe we’ll add something about cats, unless we find it more practical to do it in another episode.

Hello. This is my first entry, so I'll introduce myself.
Well, actually you may find the basic knowledge about me in my profile, and for the rest I think you had better know me through what I will write in the blog.
However, I think two things are missing in my profile: the first one is that I'm a journalist (don't ask me for whom I work, I'm just a free lance, you'll know the details later), the second one that I'm Italian but I live in France, in Lyon to be exact.

Ok, so now let's come to the title of this blog: it's a quotation from the latest Bon Jovi single, 'Have a Nice Day' (so you have also the title of this entry explained), which I like a real lot (actually, I think it's simply one of the best songs Bon Jovi have ever written... they're like the good wine, getting better with age... well, just what they say in one of their songs: 'not old, just older'). You may find the lyrics and a link to hear the song here.
You may also see the video at the Bon Jovi website but you have to sign up first.

What I also like is what is written in the press release: '“Have a Nice Day” itself is a defiant response to the disappointment the singer felt after the 2004 presidential election. He had campaigned for Democratic nominee John Kerry. But in true Bon Jovi fashion, the song rises into a chorus that counsels renewed conviction in the face of setbacks, optimism against opposition, standing your moral ground regardless of the consequences: “I ain’t gonna do what I don’t want to/I’m gonna live my life...When the world gets in my face, I say/Have a nice day!”'. How can't you just LOVE such a man? :-)

Well, let's get back to me: now you know I already have an Italian blog. I can even tell you I have more blogs: another one in Italian about science fiction dinners in Milan (Cenacolo), and one in English about Turkey (Turkish Diary). So what's the use of one more blog?

Two reasons for the existence of this blog: first of all, I needed something about me for my non-Italian friends. Secondly, I discovered Live Journal at the World Science Fiction Convention (Worldcon) in Glasgow, because most of the people I found there have a page here, so I became obsessed by the thought that I HAD TO HAVE A LIVE JOURNAL PAGE TOO!!!

Well, it's all for now. If you have been frightened by me, don't worry: it's just normal.
Selene