After a long commute with the street car yesterday morning, we arrived bright-eyed to the fair. The day was an energetic one, as if we had all banded together over the transit strike. By the third day, people know approximately where they are going, so we get fewer questions about HarperCollins and more questions about obscure publishers that are part of other publishers who may or may not be here. The day went by quickly.
I went for a few minutes to the Publishing Trends luncheon, one of the few cool events held over here near Hall 8. I hobbed and knobbed for a little while before returning to the info stand. After hours, we took the “express” shuttle bus from Hall 8 to the U-bahn near Hall 1, which nearly bucked us out with erratic yet slow driving. We had one quick beer (a lager that I was not fond of) before heading off to a dinner/art exhibit put on my the Ramon Llul Institute. Along with several glasses of awesome wines from Catalonia, we had small plates of delicious tapas-like delicacies. The best dish was a morel mushroom in a cream of foie sauce. I almost fainted with tastebud overload.
Then we went to the German independent publishers party. It was supposed to be an outrageous dance bash, but only one girl was dancing to the semi-cool techno-trance music. She was both too drunk and too confident. Nobody knew who she was, but she was breaking it down German-style in her book fair business suit, like an amateur version of Flash Dance. We tried to dance for about five minutes, but the music wasn’t keeping up. I took a taxi back and the driver told me a story about how he got drunk at Oktoberfest when he was 18 years old.
Quotes from the evening:
“Everybody should know a Welshman.”
“It’s not impressive. It’s like never having tried cannibalism.” (on being a long-term vegetarian)
The coffee machine in the Hall 8 office is broken. This is not good.