Our night: beach life, semi-final galore, hooking up with Filip Kirkorov, heartbreak and rebound

Great. So we woke up after yet another night of vodka shots and five minutes of sleep. And we figure Victor speaks for all of us when he shows us how that feels:

We started our day with a stroll from our gated community apartment down to the women-only beach that was surrounded by a wall. It was nice to experience how other groups of people live their life here, although we can leave when we want and have access to water. We think. Either way, we liked that beach. The men were working and the women were sunbathing and there was not a Wiwi-boy in sight. Also, we noticed a helicopter circling over us and figured it must have been either a)Victor, who wanted to see how we looked like in a bikini or b)Netanyahu, looking for people to join his very empty government or c)a security guy making sure no-one stole our Eurovision press bags while we took a nip in the ocean.

Afterwards we went to Carmel Market to buy spices so we can try to recreate the food we cannot afford here at home, and then moved on to the highlight of the evening: THE FIRST SEMI FINAL.

We met Filip Kirkorov in the security check at the arena, where all three of us got stuck because we weren’t allowed to bring our newly acquired Chanel handbags and carefully selected vodka vintage. We told Kirkorov we start every day with his megahit Disco Partizani and he almost fainted of pure happiness. Must be great to start his every day knowing that somewhere in a gated community in Tel Aviv there are two middle-aged Norwegian women chair dancing through their breakfast to his 6 years old song.

Kirkorov immediately called his assistant and told him to put the caviar and vodka in the freezer and invited us to an afterparty at his humble suite where he would perform Disco Partizani on repeat till sunrise.

We had frontrow seats, which was great as we sat right behind the live show producer and, in addition to very good view of the stage, had three monitor screens to look at. Only wish the producer could have been a little bit more considerate and not cover the screens with his head all the time. He was probably Swedish.

We brought two flags to the arena, the Hungarian and the Georgian, which turned out to be an epic fail. We can understand that people got shit scared of Georgia, but were in total shock that Hungary didn’t make it. We’ve heard there is no justice in this country, but didn’t really understand it until now. We are still heartbroken for Joci and keep asking ourselves what deal Viktor Orban made with Lukashenko to give Hungary’s spot in the final to Belarus.

Astrid doing her very best to jinx Georgia’s chances of getting through to the final.
Guri regretted she didn’t bring a Belarusian flag instead. Perhaps then we could have been rid of Zena The Warrior Princess by now. 

Anyway, all heartbreak calls for a rebound relationship and Victor Crone happily accepted the task. He did an amazing job onstage and is now our favorite guilty pleasure. At the afterparty at Euroclub, he told us he missed a few notes, but we didn’t notice due to the entire audience singing along. He should just remove his in-ear monitor and enjoy that himself while he has the chance. Also, Australia did great and we love Kate even more after we discovered this song, which is so perfect to send to Serhat right this very moment. He qualified. We don’t give a toss.

The press conference hostess did her very best to prevent uncomfortable questions being asked by letting the same fan community media outlets no one’s heard of ask irrelevant questions to all contestants.

After the final, we spent an uncomfortable hour in the press conference, which was really just a demonstration of Israel‘s marvelous freedom of press. The hostess accidentally skipped the journalists’ opportunity to ask Iceland any questions. We had our hand up the entire time, but Namdalsavisa was never given the microphone. How could she know we would ask Iceland the uncomfortable question “Golan. Is Israel or…?”. Belarus didn’t get the chance to speak either, but guess that’s pretty normal for them. But in the end Slovenia spoke for everyone, when their reply to the only question directed at them was “we just want to go home”.

Except we just wanted to go to Euroclub, of course. And there we met Victor Crone, who came running towards us and gave us a hug, poured his beer into Guri’s empty glass and the rest is a story best not told.

After hours of stalking time, Victor was super psyched to finally meet us.

Say Something

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.