By Viktoria Rajnak
The airplane mobile above my crib taught me the word “plane” before I knew the word “car”.
Having a father whose passion is aviation, I grew up in an environment saturated with airshows, aviation magazines, GPS’, weekly trips to airfields, and flying around most of Europe since the age of one.
It’s a privilege to have a dad with a pilot’s license, but in addition to the many enjoyable trips I’ve also experienced landing in violent turbulence and peeing in a Travel John bag.
Geneva hosts two major events each year, making the GVA airport a busy place. First the Motorshow, and second the EBACE event (European Business Aviation Convention & Exhibition).
I’ve visited EBACE many times—last year, for a change, acting as a hostess.
EBACE is a 3-day event gathering the world of business aviation. There’s an impressive Static Display of Aircraft, ranging from Cessnas, TBM to Falcons, Gulfstreams and Boeing Business Jets. The display is my favorite part of the exhibition, to see the beautiful interiors along with the smell of leather and JetA1.
Inside of Palexpo planes like Pilatus and HondaJet are exhibited as well as helicopters. The exhibitors come from all over the world. They include the manufacturers, interior completion firms, business jet partners like TAG Aviation, jet charters like VistaJet and NetJets, airports, magazines, and all the possible accessories linked to flying such as Garmin navigation and Bose headphones.
Tickets may be pricy, but it’s definitely worth it for plane enthusiasts or the curious. Special rates apply for students.
14-16 May 2012
Palexpo and Geneva International Airport
Viktoria Rajnak is a frequent contributor to GenevaLunch
In “C’est Notre Histoire,” the filmmaker Frank Wimart retraces the trajectory of his absentee father’s life, beginning from the younger Wimart’s 30th year to the moment his father, Jean-Pierre literally sailed away from the family 25 years before. As Wimart unwravels his father’s convoluted past, he begins to discover if not to understand, the injuries that plagued Jean-Pierre and made him capable of abandoning his wife and young child.
Nyon Film Festival 2009
Sergiy Bukovsky’s, “The Living,” is a 75 minute indictment of the methodological impoverishment and starvation imposed on Ukrainian “kulaks” by the Soviet State in the 1930′s.
The film presents a chronological accounting, via diplomatic letters, of the excruciatingly purposeful suffering inflicted on Ukranian peasants, in the form of farm collectivization.
The anger and sadness in the faces of those who lived through this tragedy is almost unbearable to look at as they describe in minute detail their ordeal. “I’m afraid to think about, let alone remember those times,” one interviewee tells the camera.
Election night coverage back in the UK in 1997 was so delightfully British. Whatever side of the political fence you were on, anyone who stayed up late to watch the results couldn’t have failed to be amused. Amongst the other candidates a seven foot transvestite candidate, “Miss Money Penny’s Glamorous One Party”, towered over the others as the returning officer announced the results. She/he wasn’t the only quirky candidate that night, there were others represented up and down the country.
So when I was invited by an American to go to a U.S election watching party in Geneva on Tuesday night, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Would there be anything equally surreal, would it be momentous, would it be serious, who would be there?
Last night was by far the best of the week. Arriving early we went off to La Ruche where I wanted to watch my friend in a circus show. Ecole Atelier Shanju is a circus/horse riding/theatre school based in Ecublens, and they put on a fantastic spectacle at 4pm yesterday in the circus part of the Paleo. Juggling whilst standing on horses, drumming, balancing off hoops and acting, they pulled off an impressive show in the late afternoon heat.
My new red Hunter wellies finally got to see some real festival weather. After losing my flats into the mud last year, I decided to acquire some real glastonbury style footwear, but had no chance to sport them due to the heat until yesterday. We arrived under threatening clouds at around 7pm, and sure enough the heavens opened around 8.30. We danced to a Brazilian drumming band in the Dome called Olodum, which was quite a spectacle of crazy hairstyles, hip shaking, giant drums, and classics such as “No Woman No Cry” sung in Portuguese. The Dome was packed, an unusual sight as the Village du Monde bands usually have trouble filling the tent, however I think its fair to say that we haven’t come across one single bad band in the Dome this year.
Friday night at the Paleo always has certain characteristics, such as first timers relaxing after a long week of work, the lack of sleep taking its toll on the campers, the wildness and the heat all combine, and we realise that we are over halfway through the week. What I’m trying to say is that on Friday nights, we party, hard.
A slight delay in the posting of this blog is due to the stupid time we got to bed last night, and consequentially the fact that we got up an hour ago. I distinctly remember my clock reading 6.10AM before I closed my eyes.
Last night was of the unforgettable standard. Not a particular fan of Mika, and having never heard of Justice, I was planning on taking the night easy (ie, Spending it in the FC Gingins bar where the rest of the international community seems to cluster). However, much to my surprise, last night was a proper music festival in the true sense.