‘Find a Spot and Take Notes Like Hell’
As I find myself in Spain with a group of student journalists completing a study abroad program, I hear the words every journalist longs for. Breaking news!
Not just breaking news, but an international story happening in Valencia.
A ship holding more than 600 refugees is headed to our city. This ship has caused great controversy as neighboring countries have denied the refugees entry, making the city of Valencia a city of refuge.
Since the news broke, the international press has descended upon the city, almost as many journalists as refugees have made their their way to Valencia. As the days pass, my student group anxiously awaits the arrival of the ship.
It could come any day
Then on Saturday morning, I awake with a message from my professor to meet him at a café because a small team would be heading to the marina. In that short time, my faith was restored and I thought, I thought I might be able to get a glimpse of the refugees arriving to Valencia.
On the way to the staging area, I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect. It could be a day full of action or it could be a day where nothing happened. Of course, it depended upon the arrival of the ship. Arriving to the marina, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. We met with our professor who directed us towards the most modern-looking building. He said, “Get ready for this. It’s what you call a media frenzy.”
What could that possibly mean? I thought to myself.
Entering the doors of the press headquarters at Veles E Vents, all I could think of was, this REALLY is a media frenzy. The anxiety could be felt in the densely packed room. It was a scene of laptops being typed on and charged, and cameras rolling with TV reporters doing stand-ups. Tripods taller than me, lenses as long as my arms, and cameras used to film Hollywood movies.
Everyone in the room was awaiting the long anticipated press conference with more information on the incoming refugees. Being one of the few fluent Spanish speakers in the group, I felt pressure from my group and felt pressure from the many far more experienced reporters around me. My professor looked at me and said, “Ok find a spot and take notes like hell.”
Like that, I turned towards the podium and felt all eyes on me. I felt as if though every reporter in the room knew this was my first official press conference. I tried to find the best open spot with a decent view. Shaking, holding a little notebook and pen that had I rarely used I found an open chair. I took the seat and realized… this is TOO comfortable. This entire trip was about me going out of my comfort zone in order to grow and learn. I took a leap towards the stage and realized I could get a front row seat if I sat crisscross in front of about 20 cameras.
This is when wearing jeans and being young comes in handy. You are able to find seats that not everyone would go for. I’m still not sure if this was a good or bad idea, but I did get a great seat (and a very numb leg when I finally stood up).
As a man in a red vest approached the podium, a wave of shushes filled the room by all reporters alike and there was a silence. Just like a “girl code” exists, I very much saw the “reporter code” since every reporter in the room is trying to get the best shot and best audio. But this industry is very, “first come, first serve.”
I took notes translating rapidly in my mind from Spanish to English. The press conference lasted about an hour, which seemed like 15 minutes since I wasn’t trying to miss a single detail. To cover myself, I recorded the announcements on my phone and very much wished I had a tripod at the time. As the questions started, various reporters bolted their hands up. Reporters from Italy, France, and China. WOW! They might actually think I am one of them. Well, actually I was there and got media credentials so… that does make one of them.
As the conference and questions came to an end, I looked around and saw reporters typing away and spewing out all of the information we had just received. I thought to myself, “THIS is the industry. This could be me.” It was nothing glamorous, just some pop up desks with plugs to somewhat accommodate the reporters that were remotely sending out their stories. The complimentary beer, water, and Coca-Cola, potato chips and pastries, might’ve helped ease the stress.
Once I returned to my group, my professor said, “Ok brief us.” I had never briefed anyone. Nervously, I looked at my notes that looked more like chicken scratch and tried my best to give them all of the information I had received.
Informative? Yes. But we still needed a plan for tomorrow. The BIG day. We learned that a bus would be shuttling reporters to a certain location to view the refugees’s arrival. Tomorrow was going to be a long day with an 4 a.m. start.
