I should be going home on Monday, but I'm not.
My carte de séjour came in late, thus getting me booted from the unemployment system. In order to get back in, I need to go to Dole to present it in person because the fax and photocopy I sent in the mail weren't good enough.
Never mind that I already had three extra days in France. They happened to be on the weekend and therefore were no good to me because Pole Emploi isn't open on the weekend. While my Canadian partner in crime left Lannion at 4am to get to Dole on Friday, I was unaware of that option, changed my flight, basically wasted $650 in the process and am now staying in France a full week more than I should be. Maybe a week in Paris seems charming and delightful to you, but I've been in France since February and I just want to go home.
Needless to say, I am not amused.
Sigh.....
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Saturday, June 26, 2010
False Evidence Appearing Real
While in my mind Elbeuf came to a gentle end and that was that, it turns out it left more of a mark on me than I had imagined. In the middle of the run, I had a bit of a fall in my number, you see, and while I did the rest of the shows no problemo, it seems that there was some lurking damage done.
Unlike every other city we've been to, I arrived in Lannion late. Normally, I get there in time to get settled in, assemble my wheel and prepare for the run through the following day. This time, I took advantage of a road trip opportunity and drove up with a friend from the troupe. It took us 14 hours to get there. This was by no means problematic. It didn't feel that long at all. It did mean arriving at 2:30am and not having a chance to set up.
To add to the confusion, the new sound console wouldn't accept the program from the old sound console. So instead of the balance happening in the morning, the magic number was rehearsed. This made it impossible to set up in the morning because the entire stage is in use and the in total darkness. The balance was pushed into the afternoon and while I could set up my wheel at that time, I couldn't train because in the end, the sound console chose not to cooperate and all the levels needed to be redone.
I figured "no biggie" and did a simplified version of my act for the run through thinking I'd train the following day. For the most part, the plan went off without a hitch. I went through all the technique in order and in good time. Then, when the time came to do my last line, the line I fell on, I panicked.
I more than panicked. I could not do it.
I called a friend over to stand there for mental support. That usually works. But not this time. The fear is so strong that as I prepare to do the move, I am shaking. When I jump into position, my body goes slack and I give up. I hyperventilate. I cry.
After a very long time, I manage to do the move. It isn't pretty, it burns the backs of my knees, but I feel okay about.
The night of the premiere, I prepare for the line. I know I am going to do it. Many times, I will know before hand whether or not I'll go through with it. There is no doubt this time. But when I go to do the move, the wheel rocks from side to side. This is exactly what happened the time I fell. Only the time where I fell, I froze and that's why I got hurt. This time, survival instincts kicked in and I jumped.
I was in total shock. I expected it to work. Off stage, I started crying and cried for a good part of the show. To say that I had lost all confidence would be an understatement. And worse than being afraid, for the first time in my life, I was ashamed of being afraid.
I trained again the next day and had some treatments* done to help with my fear. The treatments, while bringing up a lot of other buried woes, helped quite a lot. Every night was a bit of a struggle, but with each performance, my confidence grew.
I'm looking forward to getting back to Montreal so that I can train properly. I don't really have the opportunity to train while in France because there's so little time during shows, and between cities, I have no wheel and no training space. I think a serious bout of training this summer will do me a world of good.
Of course, I just need to get back to Montreal... sigh...
* The treatments in question are energy based and of Egyptian origin. Think reiki, but not.
Unlike every other city we've been to, I arrived in Lannion late. Normally, I get there in time to get settled in, assemble my wheel and prepare for the run through the following day. This time, I took advantage of a road trip opportunity and drove up with a friend from the troupe. It took us 14 hours to get there. This was by no means problematic. It didn't feel that long at all. It did mean arriving at 2:30am and not having a chance to set up.
To add to the confusion, the new sound console wouldn't accept the program from the old sound console. So instead of the balance happening in the morning, the magic number was rehearsed. This made it impossible to set up in the morning because the entire stage is in use and the in total darkness. The balance was pushed into the afternoon and while I could set up my wheel at that time, I couldn't train because in the end, the sound console chose not to cooperate and all the levels needed to be redone.
I figured "no biggie" and did a simplified version of my act for the run through thinking I'd train the following day. For the most part, the plan went off without a hitch. I went through all the technique in order and in good time. Then, when the time came to do my last line, the line I fell on, I panicked.
I more than panicked. I could not do it.
I called a friend over to stand there for mental support. That usually works. But not this time. The fear is so strong that as I prepare to do the move, I am shaking. When I jump into position, my body goes slack and I give up. I hyperventilate. I cry.
After a very long time, I manage to do the move. It isn't pretty, it burns the backs of my knees, but I feel okay about.
The night of the premiere, I prepare for the line. I know I am going to do it. Many times, I will know before hand whether or not I'll go through with it. There is no doubt this time. But when I go to do the move, the wheel rocks from side to side. This is exactly what happened the time I fell. Only the time where I fell, I froze and that's why I got hurt. This time, survival instincts kicked in and I jumped.
I was in total shock. I expected it to work. Off stage, I started crying and cried for a good part of the show. To say that I had lost all confidence would be an understatement. And worse than being afraid, for the first time in my life, I was ashamed of being afraid.
I trained again the next day and had some treatments* done to help with my fear. The treatments, while bringing up a lot of other buried woes, helped quite a lot. Every night was a bit of a struggle, but with each performance, my confidence grew.
I'm looking forward to getting back to Montreal so that I can train properly. I don't really have the opportunity to train while in France because there's so little time during shows, and between cities, I have no wheel and no training space. I think a serious bout of training this summer will do me a world of good.
Of course, I just need to get back to Montreal... sigh...
* The treatments in question are energy based and of Egyptian origin. Think reiki, but not.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Tonight for Dinner: Coq au Vin
Cock-a-doodle-do? Try cock-a-doodle-don't.
As I mentioned in the previous post, we had some neighbors during the final days in Elbeuf. While their horses were swell, their rooster was considerably less amusing.
Sure, the first day, the day they arrived, he seemed all right. Strutting around, showing off the plumage, you know, rooster stuff.
But the following morning...
You're probably thinking, "So the rooster crowed, so what?"
If you've ever had any first hand experience with a rooster, you would know that a rooster won't just crow once, or even strictly at dawn. Roosters will crow whenever they damn well please. But not even that was the problem.
You see, this rooster had a ritual. And that ritual is that every morning, he goes to each and every single caravan and provides a personal wake-up call. There are at least 20 caravans on site. T even witnessed that the rooster was directly under what would have been M and L's bed when he started to crow for them.
Needless to say, no one was amused.
Our maintenance man politely asked if they wouldn't mind locking up their goddamn rooster the following evening. Maybe that's why they left us with a pile of manure.
Wanted: Dead or... dead.
As I mentioned in the previous post, we had some neighbors during the final days in Elbeuf. While their horses were swell, their rooster was considerably less amusing.
Sure, the first day, the day they arrived, he seemed all right. Strutting around, showing off the plumage, you know, rooster stuff.
But the following morning...
You're probably thinking, "So the rooster crowed, so what?"
If you've ever had any first hand experience with a rooster, you would know that a rooster won't just crow once, or even strictly at dawn. Roosters will crow whenever they damn well please. But not even that was the problem.
You see, this rooster had a ritual. And that ritual is that every morning, he goes to each and every single caravan and provides a personal wake-up call. There are at least 20 caravans on site. T even witnessed that the rooster was directly under what would have been M and L's bed when he started to crow for them.
Needless to say, no one was amused.
Our maintenance man politely asked if they wouldn't mind locking up their goddamn rooster the following evening. Maybe that's why they left us with a pile of manure.
Wanted: Dead or... dead.Thursday, June 17, 2010
The New Neighbors
It was a day like any other. We were whiling away the afternoon, waiting for show time to come around, when out of nowhere some new caravans rolled into the lot.
I don't know if it's common practice for a circus to show up while another circus is already occupying a space, but here we were with some new neighbors!
True, they weren't there to perform. They only came to rest a few days before heading over to England.
"Rest?" you say, "Circus people?"
Contradictory, I know. But these were special circumstances. They had to let their horses out!
Now, if you're anything like me, you can guess my reaction (horsies!!). They parked their trailors, opened the doors and out came four beautiful horses and the most ridiculous (in other words adorable) little pony ever. There were also three cats, a dog and a rooster.
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
It was fun to have the horses there for a couple of days, although it did tend to leave audience members perplexed. They would come to see the show, see a bunch of horses outside, and then not see any during the actual performance. The amount of times various people of the troupe had to explain, "They're not ours..."
Oops.
Although the real oops of the matter is that upon their departure, they very thoughtfully neglected to remove the manure from the site. Nothing like the strong stench of barn in the morning. But then, you can't choose your neighbors.
I don't know if it's common practice for a circus to show up while another circus is already occupying a space, but here we were with some new neighbors!
True, they weren't there to perform. They only came to rest a few days before heading over to England.
"Rest?" you say, "Circus people?"
Contradictory, I know. But these were special circumstances. They had to let their horses out!
Now, if you're anything like me, you can guess my reaction (horsies!!). They parked their trailors, opened the doors and out came four beautiful horses and the most ridiculous (in other words adorable) little pony ever. There were also three cats, a dog and a rooster.
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
It was fun to have the horses there for a couple of days, although it did tend to leave audience members perplexed. They would come to see the show, see a bunch of horses outside, and then not see any during the actual performance. The amount of times various people of the troupe had to explain, "They're not ours..."
Oops.
Although the real oops of the matter is that upon their departure, they very thoughtfully neglected to remove the manure from the site. Nothing like the strong stench of barn in the morning. But then, you can't choose your neighbors.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Rouen
Rouen is a curious little town. It's littered with towering Gothic churches, has funny little lopsided houses, and is famous for being the city where Joan of Arc was burnt at the stake. In a souvenir shop, there was actually a magnet that consisted of a 3D image of the Joan of Arc monument and a carving of her being burned at the stake... Classy.
If ever you find yourself in Normandy, I highly recommend you take a trip to Rouen. Where else can you find a street that is the ideal place to go should ever you find yourself being chased by someone on horseback?*
I feel like the last photo requires an explanation. It was taken at the Aître Saint-Maclou, a burial site within the city used to bury plague victims. The courtyard is decorated with macabre carvings of skulls, crossbones, gravediggers' tools and hourglasses. Definitely worth the detour.
* This street becomes progressively more narrow, and the buildings kind of lean in more and more. It really is ideal if you're being chased by someone on horseback.
If ever you find yourself in Normandy, I highly recommend you take a trip to Rouen. Where else can you find a street that is the ideal place to go should ever you find yourself being chased by someone on horseback?*
I feel like the last photo requires an explanation. It was taken at the Aître Saint-Maclou, a burial site within the city used to bury plague victims. The courtyard is decorated with macabre carvings of skulls, crossbones, gravediggers' tools and hourglasses. Definitely worth the detour.
* This street becomes progressively more narrow, and the buildings kind of lean in more and more. It really is ideal if you're being chased by someone on horseback.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Etretat
On our one day off during the run of shows in Elbeuf, a friend and I went to Etretat. In a nutshell, Etretat is gorgeous and the food is terrible. Other than saying that there were moments where my breathe was literally taken away, there is little I can say that will do justice to how beautiful Etretat is. As such, I will let the pictures speak for themselves...
Monday, June 14, 2010
Elbeuf
The next stop on our tour was Elbeuf. Located in the Normandy region of France, Elbeuf is considered to be one of the most boring places on Earth. If you don't need anything, go to Elbeuf.
That, at least, was that attitude of pretty much the entire troupe prior to arriving. And, in all fairness, the veterans of the troupe had been there before, so who was I to argue? Of course, I had neglected to take into account the sometimes (often) whiny nature of the French. Personally, I had a grand old time!
Yes, its true that there is next to nothing in Elbeuf. Although I did find a lovely and inexpensive dress, great shoes to go with it, and a replacement top (and earrings) to go with an old skirt of mine. Take that Elbeuf haters!
But I think the reason I had a great time in Elbeuf comes down to three factors:
1) My brother and his wife came to visit!
2) I traveled around quite a lot.
3) Billiards.
I don't think I need to explain why having my brother and his lovely wife come see the show was awesome. I love them both and was so excited for them to see me perform with this crazy renowned company. We went up to Dieppe where I had the best café gourmande ever, and also spent a day in Rouen which is really just a wonderfully charming city full of curiosities.
Best café gourmande ever*
My only regret is that they couldn't stay longer (there were there for maybe two days) and that I didn't hug my brother more.
Me and my bro, awesome yo!
Other adventures include going to Etretat (that will have its own post if only for the pictures) and Honfleur. Honfleur wasn't nearly as awesome as people made it out to be, though I did have the best pastry** I've ever had in France.
Then there was the billiards. One of my cast mates and I had played off and on during the tour, but not much more than that. Perhaps 200m from the circus site there was a little cafe with a billiard table. Since there isn't all that much to do in Elbeuf, we went and played billiards almost every afternoon. Now we are addicted and the hunt for billiards in every city we'll be playing in has begun.
Lannion, we're coming for you!
* A café gourmande is an espresso served with a selection of desserts, usually three different kinds (small portions). This one came with a small cone filled with chocolate cream, black current mousse, tiramisu, profiterole, and crème brûlée. Normally, these coffees are like seven euro, but this one was only five euro eighty! Fantastic!
** Raspberry macaron with a pastry cream filling, fresh rasberries and a whisper of raspberry jam inside. To die for.
That, at least, was that attitude of pretty much the entire troupe prior to arriving. And, in all fairness, the veterans of the troupe had been there before, so who was I to argue? Of course, I had neglected to take into account the sometimes (often) whiny nature of the French. Personally, I had a grand old time!
Yes, its true that there is next to nothing in Elbeuf. Although I did find a lovely and inexpensive dress, great shoes to go with it, and a replacement top (and earrings) to go with an old skirt of mine. Take that Elbeuf haters!
But I think the reason I had a great time in Elbeuf comes down to three factors:
1) My brother and his wife came to visit!
2) I traveled around quite a lot.
3) Billiards.
I don't think I need to explain why having my brother and his lovely wife come see the show was awesome. I love them both and was so excited for them to see me perform with this crazy renowned company. We went up to Dieppe where I had the best café gourmande ever, and also spent a day in Rouen which is really just a wonderfully charming city full of curiosities.
Best café gourmande ever*
Me and my bro, awesome yo!Other adventures include going to Etretat (that will have its own post if only for the pictures) and Honfleur. Honfleur wasn't nearly as awesome as people made it out to be, though I did have the best pastry** I've ever had in France.
Then there was the billiards. One of my cast mates and I had played off and on during the tour, but not much more than that. Perhaps 200m from the circus site there was a little cafe with a billiard table. Since there isn't all that much to do in Elbeuf, we went and played billiards almost every afternoon. Now we are addicted and the hunt for billiards in every city we'll be playing in has begun.
Lannion, we're coming for you!
* A café gourmande is an espresso served with a selection of desserts, usually three different kinds (small portions). This one came with a small cone filled with chocolate cream, black current mousse, tiramisu, profiterole, and crème brûlée. Normally, these coffees are like seven euro, but this one was only five euro eighty! Fantastic!
** Raspberry macaron with a pastry cream filling, fresh rasberries and a whisper of raspberry jam inside. To die for.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Friday, June 11, 2010
Wheel Porn
One of my favourite things about training at a proper gym wheel club?
Sights like these...
So... many... wheels... *drools*...
Sights like these...
So... many... wheels... *drools*...
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Dieses ist härter als i-Gedanke!
I've talked a lot about how much I love Germany, but I did have an ulterior motive for going. One of my goals while working for my circus was to take advantage of being in Europe, specifically my proximity to Germany, and get my coaching certification for German wheel. Well, after a year on tour it was time to stop thinking about it and actually go out and do it.
I'm very fortunate to have some great contacts in the athletic community of German wheel. As such, even though I missed the official training camps, they had no problem with me coming in when I was available. The three weeks off between Besançon and Elbeuf seemed the perfect time. So, after my sejour in Berlin, I set out to Taunusstein to get whipped into coaching shape!
And get whipped into shape I would.
Coaching German wheel is hard. Really hard. Especially when the kids you're working with use wheels bigger than your own. I'm a little lady. There were many instances where I couldn't really do what was required of me because I just couldn't reach!
And spirals... dear Lord, spotting spirals is hard. There were days where I would come home so discouraged and I thought I'd never be able to get it right. I told myself that at least things would go better with straight lines.
But no! Not being able to reach is one thing. Imagine, then, spotting the wheel with one hand, the gymnast with the other and then trying to give the wheel the necessary momentum to keep going by pushing it with your foot! All at the same time!
Again, there were nights where I came home terribly discouraged.
But I persevered.
And I can never thank the girls I worked with enough. So patient. Not only could I not really help them in way of correction (when spotting spirals I was way too busy with the wheel to see their bodies), but often times I prevented them from doing the move properly. But they told me what I did wrong and slowly, I learned.
By the end of the week, I was coaching like a champ. True, I still have a ways to go until I become as skilled as those working at the club. But then, I don't have the experience of 15+ years as an athlete behind me to lean on.
I spent a solid 25 hours in the gym plus at least another 15 spent strictly on studying the theory, history, and rules of the sport. By the end of the week, I thought my head would explode.
And now, I can proudly say that I am a bonafide rhoenrad coach as certified by the IRV!
So... who wants to learn?
I'm very fortunate to have some great contacts in the athletic community of German wheel. As such, even though I missed the official training camps, they had no problem with me coming in when I was available. The three weeks off between Besançon and Elbeuf seemed the perfect time. So, after my sejour in Berlin, I set out to Taunusstein to get whipped into coaching shape!
And get whipped into shape I would.
Coaching German wheel is hard. Really hard. Especially when the kids you're working with use wheels bigger than your own. I'm a little lady. There were many instances where I couldn't really do what was required of me because I just couldn't reach!
And spirals... dear Lord, spotting spirals is hard. There were days where I would come home so discouraged and I thought I'd never be able to get it right. I told myself that at least things would go better with straight lines.
But no! Not being able to reach is one thing. Imagine, then, spotting the wheel with one hand, the gymnast with the other and then trying to give the wheel the necessary momentum to keep going by pushing it with your foot! All at the same time!
Again, there were nights where I came home terribly discouraged.
But I persevered.
And I can never thank the girls I worked with enough. So patient. Not only could I not really help them in way of correction (when spotting spirals I was way too busy with the wheel to see their bodies), but often times I prevented them from doing the move properly. But they told me what I did wrong and slowly, I learned.
By the end of the week, I was coaching like a champ. True, I still have a ways to go until I become as skilled as those working at the club. But then, I don't have the experience of 15+ years as an athlete behind me to lean on.
I spent a solid 25 hours in the gym plus at least another 15 spent strictly on studying the theory, history, and rules of the sport. By the end of the week, I thought my head would explode.
And now, I can proudly say that I am a bonafide rhoenrad coach as certified by the IRV!
So... who wants to learn?
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Willkommen, or, The Post that Became About Something Else Entirely
It should come as no surprise that as someone who does German wheel, I absolutely love Germany. I have no idea when or how it happened. My love of Germany is not at all like the love for my own country, or my love for Iceland, a country that completely ensnared my heart and soul. Nevertheless, my love for Germany is strong and is reaffirmed every time I visit. And you know all those dorky Facebook quizzes with names like "What should your nationality be?" or "From what country will your lover be?" It never fails, my result is always Germany.
When I finally hightailed it out of France my destination was clear: Berlin, Berlin, Berlin. Not only is it a city I love, but I have some friends from circus school working there at the moment. I cannot begin to tell you how good it felt to be with friends who go further back than my circus, to share stories about common friends, to fill in the blanks since the last time we were together, and to simply reminisce.
But the most important reunion of all was with a friend who had been in a terrible accident ten months earlier. He had been working in a variete in Berlin when he fell from his rope. Although witness accounts aren't clear (the artists weren't watching and the theatre isn't talking) the basic understanding is that he hit his head on a piece of decor while swinging, lost consciousness and fell to the floor. The damage was severe.
His story is personal, and I won't go into too many details about what he has struggled with since the accident. But what I can, and frankly, what I must say is that he is incredible. I don't think that I would be able to maintain the incredibly positive attitude he has consistently demonstrated. I don't believe that I would have the incredible strength to fight to regain what the accident took away from him. To see how luminous he remains, to see the hope, the strength, the determination... the force of will with which he radiates...
He inspires me, he humbles me, and most obviously, he reminds me of the grim reality that lurks in the shadows of this profession.
Yes, Berlin opened my heart and my eyes a little more. But like all good things, it couldn't last forever. And while it saddened me to leave, there were some very exciting opportunities waiting to be tackled on the other side of the country.
When I finally hightailed it out of France my destination was clear: Berlin, Berlin, Berlin. Not only is it a city I love, but I have some friends from circus school working there at the moment. I cannot begin to tell you how good it felt to be with friends who go further back than my circus, to share stories about common friends, to fill in the blanks since the last time we were together, and to simply reminisce.
But the most important reunion of all was with a friend who had been in a terrible accident ten months earlier. He had been working in a variete in Berlin when he fell from his rope. Although witness accounts aren't clear (the artists weren't watching and the theatre isn't talking) the basic understanding is that he hit his head on a piece of decor while swinging, lost consciousness and fell to the floor. The damage was severe.
His story is personal, and I won't go into too many details about what he has struggled with since the accident. But what I can, and frankly, what I must say is that he is incredible. I don't think that I would be able to maintain the incredibly positive attitude he has consistently demonstrated. I don't believe that I would have the incredible strength to fight to regain what the accident took away from him. To see how luminous he remains, to see the hope, the strength, the determination... the force of will with which he radiates...
He inspires me, he humbles me, and most obviously, he reminds me of the grim reality that lurks in the shadows of this profession.
Yes, Berlin opened my heart and my eyes a little more. But like all good things, it couldn't last forever. And while it saddened me to leave, there were some very exciting opportunities waiting to be tackled on the other side of the country.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
So Long, Suckers!
The end of Besançon was the beginning of a very important time for me. And that, my friends, would be time that I would not be spending in France. I had only been in the country for a mere two months, and already, j'avais marre.
There are a number of things about France that I find incredibly frustrating if not down right infuriating ("Spay or neuter my pet? That's cruel! I'll just drown the puppies!"*). After a month in a city that brought nothing but bad news and bad times, there was nothing I was looking forward to more than telling France to emmerde itself and then get the hell out of Dodge.
So off I went to one of my favourite countries to go visit friends, lift my spirits and get in on some serious wheel related goodness.
As soon as I crossed the border, a weight lifted from my shoulders and I to remembered how to smile.
Au revoir, Besançon.
Guten Tag, Berlin!
* I've encountered that same mind set from multiple sources, so don't go telling me I'm exaggerating.
There are a number of things about France that I find incredibly frustrating if not down right infuriating ("Spay or neuter my pet? That's cruel! I'll just drown the puppies!"*). After a month in a city that brought nothing but bad news and bad times, there was nothing I was looking forward to more than telling France to emmerde itself and then get the hell out of Dodge.
So off I went to one of my favourite countries to go visit friends, lift my spirits and get in on some serious wheel related goodness.
As soon as I crossed the border, a weight lifted from my shoulders and I to remembered how to smile.
Au revoir, Besançon.
Guten Tag, Berlin!
* I've encountered that same mind set from multiple sources, so don't go telling me I'm exaggerating.
Monday, June 7, 2010
The Second Surprise, or, Getting Kicked When You're Down
The news about the caravans had only just begun to sink in when a second blow was dealt to this this already aching heart.
C would be leaving the show.
I shouldn't have been surprised. She had been unhappy for a while and the rhythm and reality of our circus never really meshed with her own plans and dreams. Moreover, we had talked about her leaving while in Blagnac. But at that time, she wasn't quite ready yet. I suppose that's why, only a month and a half later, the news seemed so out of left field.
C leaving is huge for me. We go back further than our circus. We were in circus school together and hade done a couple of gigs together in the time since leaving school. She has been my rock. Words cannot begin to describe what having her along side me has meant. Our friendship's roots go deeper than the pickets of our circus' big yellow tent. It isn't the circus that comes first with her, and because of that, there is a trust and a protection that doesn't exist with anyone else in the troupe.
On top of some other personal loses of great importance, I was losing my home, and a best friend.
I don't remember when I last felt so utterly alone...
She will stay on until the fall. As such, I have a nice bubble of denial to live in. I can't even begin to imagine what will happen when she's gone for real.
C would be leaving the show.
I shouldn't have been surprised. She had been unhappy for a while and the rhythm and reality of our circus never really meshed with her own plans and dreams. Moreover, we had talked about her leaving while in Blagnac. But at that time, she wasn't quite ready yet. I suppose that's why, only a month and a half later, the news seemed so out of left field.
C leaving is huge for me. We go back further than our circus. We were in circus school together and hade done a couple of gigs together in the time since leaving school. She has been my rock. Words cannot begin to describe what having her along side me has meant. Our friendship's roots go deeper than the pickets of our circus' big yellow tent. It isn't the circus that comes first with her, and because of that, there is a trust and a protection that doesn't exist with anyone else in the troupe.
On top of some other personal loses of great importance, I was losing my home, and a best friend.
I don't remember when I last felt so utterly alone...
She will stay on until the fall. As such, I have a nice bubble of denial to live in. I can't even begin to imagine what will happen when she's gone for real.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Eviction Notice
Besançon marked a difficult period with my circus. Personal difficulties aside, there were also the multiple flu attacks, more changes to the show and a couple of other unpleasant surprises. The first of those unpleasant surprises was the notification that the company would no longer be bringing the caravans on tour.
I don't actually have a home in France. I have a mailbox that my mail goes to and other than that, I couchsurf. My caravan, the lovely oatmeal wagon, was the closest thing I had to a home in France. Et voila, now its gone.
This news was unsettling. But it became infuriating when I learned that the circus wasn't ceasing touring with the caravans. It was, in fact, only ceasing to bring mine.
I'm exaggerating. But only a little. They will in fact continue to bring three caravans on tour. That of the maintenance guy (understandable) and two for some of the founding members, or, the people who need it the least.
I have no home in France. C has no home in France. A stays with his girlfriend between dates but basically lives out of a suitcase. We actually lost something very valuable to us when they took our caravans away. It would have been one thing if they stopped completely, but to take the caravans away from those who depend on them and to continue carting around caravans for people to whom it makes absolutely no difference? Really?
A circus is a community. In a community, you want for people to feel welcome, to feel at home, to feel like they matter. Taking away the caravans felt like being flipped off with a simultaneous shrug of the shoulders.
C and I managed to bargain a second trunk for our belongings. Also, a number of things have been tossed into the caravans that will continue to go on tour. Bedding, pee buckets, etc... You may be wondering why we didn't fight. Why we didn't speak up. The truth is, by the time I learned that there would in fact be caravans continuing on tour, I was already resigned to the fact that I would no longer have one. I had made a certain peace with it.
In a lot of ways, it works out well. Before, I would have to think "Okay, I won't be back in the caravan for five months, what kind of clothes will I need in that time and what can I leave here?"
Now, everything follows me. I can pick and choose as I go and I only need to plan a reasonable two weeks in advance, not months. Everything is right there, all the time.
What I really don't get, though, is why they won't sell the caravans that are no longer in use. They say they won't use them anymore, and yet they would rather let them rot in some storage lot instead of selling them to interested parties.
I have learned that regardless of the company or organization, there will always be things that completely boggle the mind.
And now, dear oatmeal wagon*, we salute** you!
Paris, winter 2009
Salins-les-Bains, first research period, spring 2008
Besançon, the final days, spring 2010
* The brand of caravan is Gruau, which is the French word (in Canada, not France) for oatmeal.
** This is a super lame salute as it would seem that I have virtually no pictures of my beloved caravan.
I don't actually have a home in France. I have a mailbox that my mail goes to and other than that, I couchsurf. My caravan, the lovely oatmeal wagon, was the closest thing I had to a home in France. Et voila, now its gone.
This news was unsettling. But it became infuriating when I learned that the circus wasn't ceasing touring with the caravans. It was, in fact, only ceasing to bring mine.
I'm exaggerating. But only a little. They will in fact continue to bring three caravans on tour. That of the maintenance guy (understandable) and two for some of the founding members, or, the people who need it the least.
I have no home in France. C has no home in France. A stays with his girlfriend between dates but basically lives out of a suitcase. We actually lost something very valuable to us when they took our caravans away. It would have been one thing if they stopped completely, but to take the caravans away from those who depend on them and to continue carting around caravans for people to whom it makes absolutely no difference? Really?
A circus is a community. In a community, you want for people to feel welcome, to feel at home, to feel like they matter. Taking away the caravans felt like being flipped off with a simultaneous shrug of the shoulders.
C and I managed to bargain a second trunk for our belongings. Also, a number of things have been tossed into the caravans that will continue to go on tour. Bedding, pee buckets, etc... You may be wondering why we didn't fight. Why we didn't speak up. The truth is, by the time I learned that there would in fact be caravans continuing on tour, I was already resigned to the fact that I would no longer have one. I had made a certain peace with it.
In a lot of ways, it works out well. Before, I would have to think "Okay, I won't be back in the caravan for five months, what kind of clothes will I need in that time and what can I leave here?"
Now, everything follows me. I can pick and choose as I go and I only need to plan a reasonable two weeks in advance, not months. Everything is right there, all the time.
What I really don't get, though, is why they won't sell the caravans that are no longer in use. They say they won't use them anymore, and yet they would rather let them rot in some storage lot instead of selling them to interested parties.
I have learned that regardless of the company or organization, there will always be things that completely boggle the mind.
And now, dear oatmeal wagon*, we salute** you!
Paris, winter 2009
Salins-les-Bains, first research period, spring 2008
Besançon, the final days, spring 2010* The brand of caravan is Gruau, which is the French word (in Canada, not France) for oatmeal.
** This is a super lame salute as it would seem that I have virtually no pictures of my beloved caravan.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
The Floor II
As I've mentioned in a previous post the quality of the floor is very important for someone who works on the ground. Especially someone who does wheel.
Up until now, the Chapiteau has been brilliant. When we're under the big top I know what to expect. I know the floor will be even, I know I have all the space I need, I know all my marks will be there waiting for me. Yup, up until now the floor has been completely reliable.
Up until now.
Part of me thought that maybe I was imagining that the floor had become incredibly slippery. But after comparing notes with A, an acrobat who also relies on a proper, dependable floor, it was clear that the floor had become considerably less reliable. Of course, no one really cares about the whines of the acrobats. Not until something happens, that is.
It was a night like any other. I was doing the high speed spirals in my number, a move that I had been doing a lot less aggressively ever since my confidence in the floor had begun to waiver. But that night, I was really feeling it so I gave the amount of juice I would normally give.
That was a mistake.
In a high speed spiral, the angle to the floor is quite low. The floor, having lost all its grip, simply failed and the wheel slid out from under me. Sometimes you want the wheel to slide. But normally, it's for a specific move and the action of sliding is deliberately set in motion by the acrobat. Here, I completely lost control. I wasn't sure where I was in space, except that I was indeed close to the edge of the stage. When the wheel has that much speed and goes into a slide, it covers an impressive distance. The only thing I could do was put my free leg to the floor, thus burning my knee in order to "brake".
In creation, I had often said that if ever I lost control in that move (say, if I slipped on paint that was left on stage) I could very well take out all the musicians. I think they finally understood what I had been going on about. Except B who insisted that "they had eyes and could move". Sorry, B. But no one has reflexes that good. It all happened in an instant after all.
And so, after scaring the crap out of the director and technical director, the floor was to be repainted. Needless to say, the difference was night and day.
The floor after a year on tour:
The floor after being repainted:
The floor after I took the liberty of breaking it in:
Ah, what a difference a paint job makes...
Up until now, the Chapiteau has been brilliant. When we're under the big top I know what to expect. I know the floor will be even, I know I have all the space I need, I know all my marks will be there waiting for me. Yup, up until now the floor has been completely reliable.
Up until now.
Part of me thought that maybe I was imagining that the floor had become incredibly slippery. But after comparing notes with A, an acrobat who also relies on a proper, dependable floor, it was clear that the floor had become considerably less reliable. Of course, no one really cares about the whines of the acrobats. Not until something happens, that is.
It was a night like any other. I was doing the high speed spirals in my number, a move that I had been doing a lot less aggressively ever since my confidence in the floor had begun to waiver. But that night, I was really feeling it so I gave the amount of juice I would normally give.
That was a mistake.
In a high speed spiral, the angle to the floor is quite low. The floor, having lost all its grip, simply failed and the wheel slid out from under me. Sometimes you want the wheel to slide. But normally, it's for a specific move and the action of sliding is deliberately set in motion by the acrobat. Here, I completely lost control. I wasn't sure where I was in space, except that I was indeed close to the edge of the stage. When the wheel has that much speed and goes into a slide, it covers an impressive distance. The only thing I could do was put my free leg to the floor, thus burning my knee in order to "brake".
In creation, I had often said that if ever I lost control in that move (say, if I slipped on paint that was left on stage) I could very well take out all the musicians. I think they finally understood what I had been going on about. Except B who insisted that "they had eyes and could move". Sorry, B. But no one has reflexes that good. It all happened in an instant after all.
And so, after scaring the crap out of the director and technical director, the floor was to be repainted. Needless to say, the difference was night and day.
The floor after a year on tour:
The floor after being repainted:
The floor after I took the liberty of breaking it in:
Ah, what a difference a paint job makes...
Friday, June 4, 2010
Five Fingers
I have always maintained that I'm not one for shoes, although the amount of shoes I have in France fiercely contradicts that statement. As such, you can imagine how heart breaking it was for me to get to circus school and choose a discipline that absolutely requires shoes.
Sigh...
Well, all that has been made up for with the shoes we get to wear during the trampoline act in the show.
Behold! The Vibram Five Fingers!
The site describes them as a barefoot alternative. I would simply describe them as awesome. There are many scientific and anatomical reasons why being barefoot is really healthy and wonderful for you. But I will save that for another post. What is simply lovely about these shoes is that you get to experience the texture of the world, just like if you were barefoot, but without the risk of hurting the soles of your feet.
Yes, they are brilliant for many circus things like trampoline. They protect the foot, offer a nice, grippy, sole, and since it doesn't have a heel, there's no risk of turning an ankle. But let's be frank. They're just super cool.
I actually bought a pair for everyday life and happily wander around Montreal in them. You can't imagine how delicious it is to experience the texture of the world beneath your feet as you walk. And then, of course, there's all that scientific stuff.
As for the octopus (or quitapus if you're picky), like the skull and crossbones shoe laces, he was added for extra awesomeness. That and there was a hole on the toe.
The best part for all you Canadians out there is that, despite being the product of a European company, they are way cheaper in Canada! Simply head to your local Mountain Equipment Co-op and discover the glory of Five Fingers for yourself.
And that is the end of today's public service announcement.
Sigh...
Well, all that has been made up for with the shoes we get to wear during the trampoline act in the show.
Behold! The Vibram Five Fingers!
The site describes them as a barefoot alternative. I would simply describe them as awesome. There are many scientific and anatomical reasons why being barefoot is really healthy and wonderful for you. But I will save that for another post. What is simply lovely about these shoes is that you get to experience the texture of the world, just like if you were barefoot, but without the risk of hurting the soles of your feet.
Yes, they are brilliant for many circus things like trampoline. They protect the foot, offer a nice, grippy, sole, and since it doesn't have a heel, there's no risk of turning an ankle. But let's be frank. They're just super cool.
I actually bought a pair for everyday life and happily wander around Montreal in them. You can't imagine how delicious it is to experience the texture of the world beneath your feet as you walk. And then, of course, there's all that scientific stuff.
As for the octopus (or quitapus if you're picky), like the skull and crossbones shoe laces, he was added for extra awesomeness. That and there was a hole on the toe.
The best part for all you Canadians out there is that, despite being the product of a European company, they are way cheaper in Canada! Simply head to your local Mountain Equipment Co-op and discover the glory of Five Fingers for yourself.
And that is the end of today's public service announcement.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
We're Baaaaack!
After a month and a half break, some serious personal clutter removal, and a slew of exciting events, Kicking Sawdust is back in action!
I am currently in a teeny tiny village in the pre-alps with the family of a good friend. Other than cow gazing, there is very little to do here. As such, it is my hope to get all the posts I've been meaning to write written and up for your eyes to see!
Don't let the silence of the past weeks fool you, a lot has been going on.
So kick back sawdust style, the and delve back into the life of this traveling circus artist!
I am currently in a teeny tiny village in the pre-alps with the family of a good friend. Other than cow gazing, there is very little to do here. As such, it is my hope to get all the posts I've been meaning to write written and up for your eyes to see!
Don't let the silence of the past weeks fool you, a lot has been going on.
So kick back sawdust style, the and delve back into the life of this traveling circus artist!
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