The Circus Train

Having done a traditional tour this past year, I've got to say that I have a greater appreciation than ever before for just how transport goes down. The following is a very cool interview with Ringling's trainmaster, Joe Colossa.

Soleil and the Macy's Parade

Happy Thanksgiving to my readers in the US today! Word on the street is that Cirque du Soleil has a float in the Macy's parade this year. From the photos I've seen so far, it's an inexplicable mix of pirates and one of the trio trapeze girls from Varekai...

 I've got to say, based on the pictures alone, I'm not really feeling it. Cirque du Soleil and pirates? And is the Varekai lady supposed to be some kind of sea creature? Maybe it's because I know the character is from Varekai, but she doesn't really seem to fit in with everything else, does she?

 

But then, if we look at the design...

Of course, a DREAMSEEKER! Perhaps someone will finally be able to open my jar of rainbows! 

Ugh...

Remember when Soleil used to be really innovative and inspired? I miss that.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Dubé in Trouble

Bad news for Dubé Juggling...

Epic Split

I came across this a w days ago. If you haven't seen it yet, you should watch it now. If you've seen it already, I say watch it again!

And in case you missed it, here's Volvo's equally badass Ballerina Stunt.

The Kindness of Strangers

My accident was scary. Not just for me, but for everyone who was there that night. At the end of the show, one of the artists burst into tears. Another seemed shaken for days afterward and cut some of the trickier moves out of her act. Another didn't even want to talk about it. It was just too horrible.

But out of all that, came some incredible and unexpected acts of kindness. As soon as the next morning, the office was already fielding calls about how I was doing. They received a very angry e-mail saying that it was nothing short of disgraceful that the show kept going after I fell, that they should be ashamed, and that the writers left at intermission in protest. I appreciate the gesture, but I agree that the show must go on.

But most touching of all is that complete strangers started sending me cards wishing me well and a speedy recovery. I even got a little plant with a Get Well Soon balloon.

And the night of the finale, I had two people come up to me and explain that they were in the audience in Zurich the night I fell. They wanted to know how I was doing and were so happy to see that I was back on stage.

What happened was terrible, but there were some really beautiful moments that spiraled out of it. Most of all, the night I came back...

The Fall

It was the end of the run of shows in Zurich. There were about three and a half weeks left of the tour. We were all tired by this point, almost eight months on tour with only a three day holiday will do that to you. But we had to keep going, so keep going we did.

I remember feeling tired that day, like when you don't sleep very well. That tiredness that is not only physical, but mental as well. And that's when I screwed up.

I was doing my act and things were going well until the salto. To do a front salto out of the German wheel you have to duck under the cross bar and then jump up, pushing off the plates, to execute the flip. Only I didn't clear the bar. Not even a little bit. I jumped head first into that bar but my body was in salto mode, and I tried to rotate automatically.

I remember things going white for about an instant, then thinking that this was really embarrassing. I realized I was not going to be landing on my feet and tried to break the fall as best I could. Apparently, in that moment, the best I could do was landing right on my sacrum.

I tried to get up and for the first time in my life, was unable to. That was worrisome. At that point I resigned myself to the fact that I would not be finishing my act that day and would need help getting off stage. I don't think I was in shock. Maybe I was. At any rate, I was very calm and simply waited.

The only problem was that the musicians were still playing. I remember laying there thinking "If you don't stop playing, no one will know to come for me..."

Because the Universe can sometimes be kind, my boyfriend was the first one at my side. He was doing the lights that night and had run down from the booth. He knelt down beside me and said "There's blood..."

My act was one of the only ones in the show where there is no one else on stage. I later learned that the artists realized something was wrong when my wheel rolled backstage and hit someone who was standing near the curtain.

The circus director, his son, and one of the jugglers appeared by my side. I felt okay until they tried to move me. It was excruciating. I thought my sacrum was going to split in two. The put me on a board, not a spinal board (they really should get one of those) but one of the big planks that they use around the site.

I think that's when I started crying. I felt humiliated as they carried me offstage. I kept appologizing.

There was a doctor in the audience (and also a famous Swiss writer whom the workers are convinced will incorporate my accident into one of his books) who came backstage to check on me. "I'm a pediatrician!" he said, "But still a doctor!"

He was super friendly, held my hand, stroked my hair...

The police arrived and started asking all kinds of questions. They photographed my wheel and wanted to go photograph things on stage. The circus director was furious and refused. The show, after all, was still going on and the public had already been traumatized enough.

Later the police would ask if my wheel had been sabotage. "No, no. It was entirely my fault." I also had the first breathalyzer test of my entire life.

I was taken to hospital by ambulance. They gave me pain killers that made the ceiling move. With great difficulty, they managed to get my costume off ("How do you even get this on?"), but were unable to remove my bra. After what seemed like a million years, I went for x-rays. I told the x-ray tech that I still had my bra on. The doctor, a cocky Italian chap, replied, "I can get it off."

He could not.

The x-rays came back clean, but I was unable to sit up. Worse, when I tried to stand, I couldn't put any weight on my left leg. I couldn't walk.

I went for a CT and that came back clean too. By this time, it was about 4am.

I spent the night at the hospital. The director of artists kept texting to see how things were going. She asked if she could get me anything. I asked for a time machine.

Remember how my boyfriend mentioned that there had been blood? I though he meant a trickle. As it turns out, I left a small puddle on stage. Only no one realized it at the time and so the next scene saw all the artists dancing through my blood. I'm told it was horrible. I believe it. Someone had to come on stage and wipe up my blood. Meanwhile, I got the first stitches of my entire life.

I went back to the circus the next day. I could barely walk, but I would be okay. My hair was still matted with blood and when I showered, it looked like the scene from Psycho.


For a while, it was unsure whether or not I would even be able to make it back into the show. But I did. Oh, but I did...

Olle Strandberg on Ballroom House

Sideshow magazine has a fabulous series in which directors of circus shows are invited to go into the details behind the creation process of some of their work. In this article, Olle Strandberg talks about the creation of Ballroom House. If you love dance, juggling, or both, you should definitely check it out.

Scienced!

So apparently science has proven that gymnastics is the most difficult sport in the world. Like we didn't already know that.