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Irish Daily Mail
May 26, 2012 Saturday
Edition 1; Ireland
Q. Why are there 4m-high walls everywhere around Baku? A. So the
tourists can't see what's behind
It's studded with seven-star hotels and futuristic towers, but just
beneath Baku's modern facade lurks grinding poverty which its regime
is only too eager to disguise...
by Eoin Murphy
TO my left a Swiss man is decked head to toe in a red Lycra bodysuit
festooned with two red and white feather boas. To my right sits a
husband and wife from England, wearing replica Jedward suits, complete
with red sequined jackets and Jedward quiffs. In front of me six
elderly women dressed like Babushkas appear on stage and the crowd
goes wild. Welcome to the Crystal Hall in Baku, Azerbaijan and the
Eurovision Song Contest 2012.
Located in the heart of Baku, the Crystal Hall, which was custom built
to host this year's contest, is simply breathtaking. The 23,000
capacity venue is the largest arena to ever host the contest but size
is not the only impressive feature.
On the exterior, the roof is encrusted with spot lights that change
colour at night, illuminating the hall like a giant Christmas tree.
Inside, the stage is set in the round, ensuring that every seat is
guaranteed a perfect view. Floor-to-ceiling LED screens wrap around
the interior allowing the acts to project superb graphics to accompany
their performance. The acoustics are perfect - so much so that, when I
attend the semi-final on Tuesday, the cacophony of cheers that greets
competition favourites the Russian Grannies almost costs me my
hearing.
Arriving at the hall on Tuesday night, I pass menacing soldiers armed
with machine guns and snarling Alsatian dogs, go through a metal
detector and clear a mandatory body search. The security measures may
sound extreme but the authorities have received several terror threats
in the run up to the Eurovision and they are, understandably, taking
no chances.
My semi-final ticket places me in the section reserved for the Irish,
Swiss and Israeli supporters. It is an eclectic mix to say the least.
The show runs like clockwork, with each act on and off stage within
five minutes. I appreciate the efficiency seeing as Baku is four hours
ahead of Irish time, meaning the clock strikes 1.30am local time just
as Jedward take to the stage.
The Grimes twins' entry, Waterline, a high-energy pop track that comes
complete with on-stage water fountain, gets the whole arena on their
feet shouting and screaming.
After all 18 acts have performed there is a 15-minute recess while the
viewing public vote for their favourite acts. Then comes the time for
eight acts to be eliminated, with the others going through to the
grand final.
As one by one the names are called, I am surprised at how nervous I
am. Sitting in front of me is the twins' father John, gripping and
twisting his red Eurovision baseball cap in anticipation. He flew in
this morning and if his sons don't qualify for the final he will be
back on a plane in a matter of hours.
It comes down to the wire - nine acts are announced and Ireland is not
one of them. As the final place - dubbed the 'Golden Ticket' - is
revealed, the entire section of my stand are up on their feet and
there is a collective intake of breath.
When 'Ireland' is finally announced, the crowd goes wild. As John and
Edward cartwheel across the stage, I collapse back onto my seat
exhausted but exhilarated. The Crystal Hall and all its splendour is a
far cry from what I was expecting when I arrived at Baku International
Airport last Monday morning.
Located on the oil-rich Caspian sea, Azerbaijan is a former Soviet
republic bordered by Russia, Georgia, Armenia and Iran. Independent
since 1991, the Islamic State has an estimated population of 9million.
It isn't the easiest place to get to. I left Dublin at 4pm on Sunday
afternoon and flew six hours to Istanbul. After a two-hour stop it was
another three-hour flight to Baku. I landed at 5am local time.
In the arrivals hall, a waiting Eurovision volunteer fast-tracked me
through immigration, where he insisted that I skip the queue. Less
than ten minutes later, I was at the baggage carousel. Picking my bags
up and guiding me through the airport, he explained that there are
more than 5,000 Eurovision volunteers stationed at the venue and the
hotels where the contestants and media are staying. He took me
straight to a taxi rank - which incredibly held a line of purple
Londonstyle cabs, which were flown in for the contest. 'Do not take
the other taxis,' my guide warned. 'They will charge too much money.
Enjoy your stay and I hope you will want to come back.'
The taxi driver took my hotel details and turned out onto a new
motorway. On either side of the road - running 24km into Baku city -
four metre-high sandstone walls have been built.
I thought that they might have been erected to keep unwanted visitors
out but my driver told me that they were built to stop people like me
viewing the slums that exist behind them. In broken English he said:
'They new walls. You not look or see behind them. It very bad. Very
poor.'
On closer inspection, it seemed that the entire city - home to more
than three million Azeri people - had been given a cosmetic makeover.
The old buildings appear to have been scrubbed, while the waterfront
is filled with glass skyscrapers that would look more at home in
Dubai.
Any building that could possibly be labelled an eyesore has been given
a makeover. Large stone veneers have been built over run-down
buildings. Even in the Old Town, historic monuments that do not meet
with the new vision for Baku have been hidden behind scaffolding and
plastic covers. I went to enter an attractive shop only to discover it
was a fake. Like a Hollywood movie set from the Sixties, a
three-storey shop front had been built to mask the crumbling old
structure behind.
'It's not the real Baku,' a 27-year-old bar woman told me.
'All this is for show. The Crystal Hall, the Flame Towers, is to show
the world how great Azerbaijan is. But when you leave it will go back
to normal.
'I am a single mother and I earn 250 manats (the local currency which
exchanges at the same rate as the euro) a month and I work 60 hours
per week. I have no life here.
'This month we serve stars and television people and journalists but
next month it will be back to people working on oil rigs. They spend
millions on hotels and towers but we have no money. The Government
only wants you to see the beautiful buildings.'
It is clear from wandering around Baku that there are indeed two sides
to the city. The London cabs all take the same designated route to the
Crystal Hall, avoiding some of the less salubrious suburbs. The
Government blockbooked the hotels, allocating them to the
international media along with their accreditation, meaning the
foreigners are corralled in specific areas.
My hotel, a glass tower custom-built for the Eurovision, opened this
week. My room on the 15th floor is spacious with two beds, a reading
desk and walk-in closet. It has every mod con you would expect at
home. The staff are friendly and desperate to please at every
opportunity. 'You are the first person to sleep in this room,' the
porter told me with pride.
Outside, the chaotic roads are busy and dangerous. The speeding
drivers give little consideration to pedestrians and, at times,
traffic lights. Within two days I had seen two crashes, and the
doorman at the hotel told me they are a regular occurrence. It's
enough to entice me to stick to the London cabs and their limited view
of the city.
In 1991, Azerbaijan won its independence from a crumbling Soviet Union
and the country's rebirth began. In 1994, Heydar Aliyev,
self-appointed father of the nation and biological father of the
current president, announced a (EURO)7billion contract with a European
oil consortium, which he trumpeted as the 'deal of the century'. This
launched Azerbaijan's economy, hauling the country headlong into the
21st century.
Much like in Dubai, the government has gone of its way to showcase the
trappings of oil money and no expense has been spared converting Baku
into a Eurovision city. The Crystal Hall alone reportedly cost
(EURO)79million to construct. When the new system of roads and other
specially-built infrastructure are taken into account, locals estimate
that at least (EURO)200million has been spent on the upgrade.
The venue is located on the waterfront. Flanked by the Caspian Sea, it
sits in front of the world's second biggest flag pole - it was the
biggest until last year when Turkmenistan built a bigger one. On the
hill behind the hall is the communications tower which, at night, is
illuminated like Blackpool Tower.
To its left stand the Flame Towers - three glass buildings shape like
licks of flame in a nod to Azerbaijan's traditional cultural
attachment to fire (the slogan for this Eurovision is 'Light Your
Fire'). The entire waterfront is newly paved and brass poles holding
lights have been erected along the 5km walkway.
The real charm of the city, however, does not lie in the skyscrapers
and architecture but with the people. Before coming to Azerbaijan I
read countless articles online which portrayed the people as 'typical
closed Muslims'. This couldn't have been further from the truth.
Provided you can get away from the Eurovision trail - the official
taxi route which starts and ends in one of seven five-star hotels -
you can see the real city.
Walking along the Grand Boulevard, with its creaky yet charismatic
Soviet-era fairground rides, people shake your hand and welcome you to
their home. The locals are curious and, more often than not, have
never heard of Ireland - although they all seem to be Jedward fans.
I dropped my wallet there on Wednesday and a young boy chased after me
to make sure I didn't leave without it. When I opened it nothing had
been disturbed and he refused my attempts to reward his honesty. The
maze-like Old Town is stuffed with cafes and carpet shops. The area is
safe, the people warm and helpful. The local delicacy is kebabs -
skewers of beef, chicken, lamb or fish marinated in spices and baked
in a clay oven. Served with a light crepe, salad and some dried
berries they are packed with flavour.
On Thursday night, a café owner invited five of the Irish delegation
to his premises, where he served food and drink and projected the
second semi-final onto an old wall.
At night the locals leave the city centre for their homes on the
outskirts of the city.
In Fountain Square, home to the city's only McDonald's, and along the
main strip, the Eurovision visitors congregate. The bars littered
around the square are dingy and dark and filled with smoke and oil-rig
workers. A pint of local lager, the sweet but refreshing Effes, costs
(EURO)2.50, or you can get Stella Artois for (EURO)8 a pint in the
hotel. There's a wide range of food available, from pizza to sushi,
with starters costing (EURO)4-(EURO)8 and mains costing
(EURO)10-(EURO)17.
Because of the perceived security risk, the Eurovision contestants
rarely venture outside of the designated press calls and the vast
media centre, which caters to more than 1,000 print, radio and
television journalists. At their hotels, the contestants are kept
under armed guard. Because the traffic is so dangerous, the
delegations travel in a blacked-out bus with a police escort and
socialise only in their hotel bars or the approved Euroclub.
The two-storey nightclub has been built on the seafront and only
accredited members of the 'Euro family' are allowed enter. As a result
the Euroclub is always half-empty with each delegation huddling in
their own corner and rarely mixing. While the spirit of the contest
insists that all acts respect each other, backstage there is an
underlying current of competition.
'Everyone wants to win, and win badly,' a member of the Swiss press
corps told me. 'Dress rehearsals are taken extremely seriously and
heated arguments in various languages can be heard echoing through the
backstage corridors.'
I know that Jedward desperately want to win and spent this week
canvassing more than 20 countries for votes. After Tuesday night's
semi-final, the twins were given two days off, but yesterday they were
back on stage at the Crystal Hall fine-tuning their performances ahead
of tonight's show.
And it is promising to be a Eurovision to remember. Tickets are like
gold dust in Baku having sold out online. Originally priced from
(EURO)29-(EURO)119, they are now exchanging hands through unofficial
channels for upwards of (EURO)500 each.
Thankfully the Irish delegation was able to secure tickets for the 50
or so Irish supporters who have made the journey.
Tonight, the competition begins at midnight local time but attendees
must present themselves to security before 9pm for a full bag search
and pat down. The heightened security measures are unlikely to dampen
the carnival atmosphere.
Ireland's hopes rest on the shoulders of John and Edward, who are
looking to improve on last year's eighth-place finish with a win. And
if the rest of Europe has taken them to their hearts like the people
of Baku, then anything is possible.
Whatever the result the real winner looks set to be Baku and
Azerbaijan. The government has spared no expense lighting up the
country as a possible tourist venue. The only question that remains is
when the world's media leaves tomorrow, will those lights simply be
plugged out?
'All this is for show. It will go back to normal'
The Crystal Hall reportedly cost (EURO)79million
Arguments are heard echoing backstage
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress
May 26, 2012 Saturday
Edition 1; Ireland
Q. Why are there 4m-high walls everywhere around Baku? A. So the
tourists can't see what's behind
It's studded with seven-star hotels and futuristic towers, but just
beneath Baku's modern facade lurks grinding poverty which its regime
is only too eager to disguise...
by Eoin Murphy
TO my left a Swiss man is decked head to toe in a red Lycra bodysuit
festooned with two red and white feather boas. To my right sits a
husband and wife from England, wearing replica Jedward suits, complete
with red sequined jackets and Jedward quiffs. In front of me six
elderly women dressed like Babushkas appear on stage and the crowd
goes wild. Welcome to the Crystal Hall in Baku, Azerbaijan and the
Eurovision Song Contest 2012.
Located in the heart of Baku, the Crystal Hall, which was custom built
to host this year's contest, is simply breathtaking. The 23,000
capacity venue is the largest arena to ever host the contest but size
is not the only impressive feature.
On the exterior, the roof is encrusted with spot lights that change
colour at night, illuminating the hall like a giant Christmas tree.
Inside, the stage is set in the round, ensuring that every seat is
guaranteed a perfect view. Floor-to-ceiling LED screens wrap around
the interior allowing the acts to project superb graphics to accompany
their performance. The acoustics are perfect - so much so that, when I
attend the semi-final on Tuesday, the cacophony of cheers that greets
competition favourites the Russian Grannies almost costs me my
hearing.
Arriving at the hall on Tuesday night, I pass menacing soldiers armed
with machine guns and snarling Alsatian dogs, go through a metal
detector and clear a mandatory body search. The security measures may
sound extreme but the authorities have received several terror threats
in the run up to the Eurovision and they are, understandably, taking
no chances.
My semi-final ticket places me in the section reserved for the Irish,
Swiss and Israeli supporters. It is an eclectic mix to say the least.
The show runs like clockwork, with each act on and off stage within
five minutes. I appreciate the efficiency seeing as Baku is four hours
ahead of Irish time, meaning the clock strikes 1.30am local time just
as Jedward take to the stage.
The Grimes twins' entry, Waterline, a high-energy pop track that comes
complete with on-stage water fountain, gets the whole arena on their
feet shouting and screaming.
After all 18 acts have performed there is a 15-minute recess while the
viewing public vote for their favourite acts. Then comes the time for
eight acts to be eliminated, with the others going through to the
grand final.
As one by one the names are called, I am surprised at how nervous I
am. Sitting in front of me is the twins' father John, gripping and
twisting his red Eurovision baseball cap in anticipation. He flew in
this morning and if his sons don't qualify for the final he will be
back on a plane in a matter of hours.
It comes down to the wire - nine acts are announced and Ireland is not
one of them. As the final place - dubbed the 'Golden Ticket' - is
revealed, the entire section of my stand are up on their feet and
there is a collective intake of breath.
When 'Ireland' is finally announced, the crowd goes wild. As John and
Edward cartwheel across the stage, I collapse back onto my seat
exhausted but exhilarated. The Crystal Hall and all its splendour is a
far cry from what I was expecting when I arrived at Baku International
Airport last Monday morning.
Located on the oil-rich Caspian sea, Azerbaijan is a former Soviet
republic bordered by Russia, Georgia, Armenia and Iran. Independent
since 1991, the Islamic State has an estimated population of 9million.
It isn't the easiest place to get to. I left Dublin at 4pm on Sunday
afternoon and flew six hours to Istanbul. After a two-hour stop it was
another three-hour flight to Baku. I landed at 5am local time.
In the arrivals hall, a waiting Eurovision volunteer fast-tracked me
through immigration, where he insisted that I skip the queue. Less
than ten minutes later, I was at the baggage carousel. Picking my bags
up and guiding me through the airport, he explained that there are
more than 5,000 Eurovision volunteers stationed at the venue and the
hotels where the contestants and media are staying. He took me
straight to a taxi rank - which incredibly held a line of purple
Londonstyle cabs, which were flown in for the contest. 'Do not take
the other taxis,' my guide warned. 'They will charge too much money.
Enjoy your stay and I hope you will want to come back.'
The taxi driver took my hotel details and turned out onto a new
motorway. On either side of the road - running 24km into Baku city -
four metre-high sandstone walls have been built.
I thought that they might have been erected to keep unwanted visitors
out but my driver told me that they were built to stop people like me
viewing the slums that exist behind them. In broken English he said:
'They new walls. You not look or see behind them. It very bad. Very
poor.'
On closer inspection, it seemed that the entire city - home to more
than three million Azeri people - had been given a cosmetic makeover.
The old buildings appear to have been scrubbed, while the waterfront
is filled with glass skyscrapers that would look more at home in
Dubai.
Any building that could possibly be labelled an eyesore has been given
a makeover. Large stone veneers have been built over run-down
buildings. Even in the Old Town, historic monuments that do not meet
with the new vision for Baku have been hidden behind scaffolding and
plastic covers. I went to enter an attractive shop only to discover it
was a fake. Like a Hollywood movie set from the Sixties, a
three-storey shop front had been built to mask the crumbling old
structure behind.
'It's not the real Baku,' a 27-year-old bar woman told me.
'All this is for show. The Crystal Hall, the Flame Towers, is to show
the world how great Azerbaijan is. But when you leave it will go back
to normal.
'I am a single mother and I earn 250 manats (the local currency which
exchanges at the same rate as the euro) a month and I work 60 hours
per week. I have no life here.
'This month we serve stars and television people and journalists but
next month it will be back to people working on oil rigs. They spend
millions on hotels and towers but we have no money. The Government
only wants you to see the beautiful buildings.'
It is clear from wandering around Baku that there are indeed two sides
to the city. The London cabs all take the same designated route to the
Crystal Hall, avoiding some of the less salubrious suburbs. The
Government blockbooked the hotels, allocating them to the
international media along with their accreditation, meaning the
foreigners are corralled in specific areas.
My hotel, a glass tower custom-built for the Eurovision, opened this
week. My room on the 15th floor is spacious with two beds, a reading
desk and walk-in closet. It has every mod con you would expect at
home. The staff are friendly and desperate to please at every
opportunity. 'You are the first person to sleep in this room,' the
porter told me with pride.
Outside, the chaotic roads are busy and dangerous. The speeding
drivers give little consideration to pedestrians and, at times,
traffic lights. Within two days I had seen two crashes, and the
doorman at the hotel told me they are a regular occurrence. It's
enough to entice me to stick to the London cabs and their limited view
of the city.
In 1991, Azerbaijan won its independence from a crumbling Soviet Union
and the country's rebirth began. In 1994, Heydar Aliyev,
self-appointed father of the nation and biological father of the
current president, announced a (EURO)7billion contract with a European
oil consortium, which he trumpeted as the 'deal of the century'. This
launched Azerbaijan's economy, hauling the country headlong into the
21st century.
Much like in Dubai, the government has gone of its way to showcase the
trappings of oil money and no expense has been spared converting Baku
into a Eurovision city. The Crystal Hall alone reportedly cost
(EURO)79million to construct. When the new system of roads and other
specially-built infrastructure are taken into account, locals estimate
that at least (EURO)200million has been spent on the upgrade.
The venue is located on the waterfront. Flanked by the Caspian Sea, it
sits in front of the world's second biggest flag pole - it was the
biggest until last year when Turkmenistan built a bigger one. On the
hill behind the hall is the communications tower which, at night, is
illuminated like Blackpool Tower.
To its left stand the Flame Towers - three glass buildings shape like
licks of flame in a nod to Azerbaijan's traditional cultural
attachment to fire (the slogan for this Eurovision is 'Light Your
Fire'). The entire waterfront is newly paved and brass poles holding
lights have been erected along the 5km walkway.
The real charm of the city, however, does not lie in the skyscrapers
and architecture but with the people. Before coming to Azerbaijan I
read countless articles online which portrayed the people as 'typical
closed Muslims'. This couldn't have been further from the truth.
Provided you can get away from the Eurovision trail - the official
taxi route which starts and ends in one of seven five-star hotels -
you can see the real city.
Walking along the Grand Boulevard, with its creaky yet charismatic
Soviet-era fairground rides, people shake your hand and welcome you to
their home. The locals are curious and, more often than not, have
never heard of Ireland - although they all seem to be Jedward fans.
I dropped my wallet there on Wednesday and a young boy chased after me
to make sure I didn't leave without it. When I opened it nothing had
been disturbed and he refused my attempts to reward his honesty. The
maze-like Old Town is stuffed with cafes and carpet shops. The area is
safe, the people warm and helpful. The local delicacy is kebabs -
skewers of beef, chicken, lamb or fish marinated in spices and baked
in a clay oven. Served with a light crepe, salad and some dried
berries they are packed with flavour.
On Thursday night, a café owner invited five of the Irish delegation
to his premises, where he served food and drink and projected the
second semi-final onto an old wall.
At night the locals leave the city centre for their homes on the
outskirts of the city.
In Fountain Square, home to the city's only McDonald's, and along the
main strip, the Eurovision visitors congregate. The bars littered
around the square are dingy and dark and filled with smoke and oil-rig
workers. A pint of local lager, the sweet but refreshing Effes, costs
(EURO)2.50, or you can get Stella Artois for (EURO)8 a pint in the
hotel. There's a wide range of food available, from pizza to sushi,
with starters costing (EURO)4-(EURO)8 and mains costing
(EURO)10-(EURO)17.
Because of the perceived security risk, the Eurovision contestants
rarely venture outside of the designated press calls and the vast
media centre, which caters to more than 1,000 print, radio and
television journalists. At their hotels, the contestants are kept
under armed guard. Because the traffic is so dangerous, the
delegations travel in a blacked-out bus with a police escort and
socialise only in their hotel bars or the approved Euroclub.
The two-storey nightclub has been built on the seafront and only
accredited members of the 'Euro family' are allowed enter. As a result
the Euroclub is always half-empty with each delegation huddling in
their own corner and rarely mixing. While the spirit of the contest
insists that all acts respect each other, backstage there is an
underlying current of competition.
'Everyone wants to win, and win badly,' a member of the Swiss press
corps told me. 'Dress rehearsals are taken extremely seriously and
heated arguments in various languages can be heard echoing through the
backstage corridors.'
I know that Jedward desperately want to win and spent this week
canvassing more than 20 countries for votes. After Tuesday night's
semi-final, the twins were given two days off, but yesterday they were
back on stage at the Crystal Hall fine-tuning their performances ahead
of tonight's show.
And it is promising to be a Eurovision to remember. Tickets are like
gold dust in Baku having sold out online. Originally priced from
(EURO)29-(EURO)119, they are now exchanging hands through unofficial
channels for upwards of (EURO)500 each.
Thankfully the Irish delegation was able to secure tickets for the 50
or so Irish supporters who have made the journey.
Tonight, the competition begins at midnight local time but attendees
must present themselves to security before 9pm for a full bag search
and pat down. The heightened security measures are unlikely to dampen
the carnival atmosphere.
Ireland's hopes rest on the shoulders of John and Edward, who are
looking to improve on last year's eighth-place finish with a win. And
if the rest of Europe has taken them to their hearts like the people
of Baku, then anything is possible.
Whatever the result the real winner looks set to be Baku and
Azerbaijan. The government has spared no expense lighting up the
country as a possible tourist venue. The only question that remains is
when the world's media leaves tomorrow, will those lights simply be
plugged out?
'All this is for show. It will go back to normal'
The Crystal Hall reportedly cost (EURO)79million
Arguments are heard echoing backstage
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress