Hippie Haven: European Juggling Convention

The stars were out and the outskirts of Toulouse seemed eerily deserted as we pulled off the brightly-lit motorway into the dark grounds of a rugby club. Only the sight of a few people sleeping on top of their VW Kombis meant we were in the right place. As we set up our tent in a strip of grass next to the car park, I thought about the strange turn of events that brought me up to the start of this European Juggling Convention (EJC), A.K.A. hippie haven.

The EJC is the largest convention of its type in the world and has been going strong since its conception in Brighton in 1978. For some, it’s a chance to fine-tune their skills and learn from the masters; there are open gyms for practising and they are packed with people ‘in the zone’ juggling into the early hours of the morning, stopping only to change a song or grab another beer. For others, it’s like any other festival: a week-long party that happens to revolve around juggling, with drinks, music and shows to entertain.

I didn’t really fit either of these categories. As the accidental hanger-on of my friend’s sister’s fire-breathing boyfriend, I wasn’t nearly as dreadlocked or vegan as the average EJC attendee. My best juggling attempt was a pathetic 3-ball affair (next to the maestros managing twelve clubs while balancing a ball on their head). In the leafy ‘slack-line’ area, people could attempt the equivalent to tight-rope walking between trees. Personal record: two steps.

The camping was on the more rural end of what you would get at a music festival. The showers and toilets were decent, but a lengthy ten minute walk across the sun-parched grounds. Our camping neighbours were friendlyat least, offering absinthe and pains au chocolat whenever a dull moment arose. When the sweltering heat finally broke into rain storms, everyone frantically ran around making sure that all the backpacks and towels stayed dry, an act of camaraderie I’m not sure you would see in a less ‘free-love’ environment. Parents let semi-naked kids roam free and the prevailing odour was, well, herbal.

For the juggling novice, the highlight had to be the professional quality circus shows you could pay to see. Instead of repetitive carnival music and dodgy clowns, the shows were surreal and darkly comic. One skit involved the strangulation of mannequin-type women. Another, the sinister act of a man treating his wife like a puppet. They all combined juggling with body contortion, rope-climbing, acrobatics and trapeze. I was transfixed, like a small child on their first trip to the circus.

Although I doubt I’ll be making another detour to the EJC in years to come, it was an experience to learn more about what is often considered an inane pursuit. At every turn, I encountered kind, open people who loved meeting others, dreadlocked or not. And the vegetarian food was undeniably delicious.