Transition

I was walking back to the circus after a trip to the grocery store and was surprised to see white and red wagons with red and gold lettering all over them. Then, I felt strangely sad...

I spent the last four years on tour with the same circus. I'm so used to seeing a yellow and maroon tent, with big yellow trucks with maroon lettering. At this circus, everything looks impeccable, shiny, and new. My old circus was kind of shabby, but the familiarity made it feel like home.

I'm sure that in time this place will feel like home too. And I really am truly impressed with their philosophy and how things are run. Sometimes it feels like there are way too many rules and regulations (we spent an hour and a half talking about them this afternoon), but I suspect that in practice, it really won't be a big deal at all.

I just don't understand these feelings of sadness. It's definitely feels strange to act out the same old routine in such different surroundings. Maybe it has to do with the knowledge that my old circus is starting the new creation at this very moment, and it hurts to feel left behind. Familiar tasks in an unfamiliar setting should be comforting, no? Not a reminder of what you've lost.

It's a funny thing this circus life. Sometimes I wonder how much longer I will be a part of it...

The Foot Monsters

I'm really bad at throwing things away. I can also be very stubborn and tend to be proud of curious things. When you combine those qualities, things like this tend to happen:

Those would be my show shoes. They are partly held together by duct tape. Many chunks were hacked off or out in order to keep them looking and feeling shoe like.

They should have been replaced years ago. But they were still kind of okay. And you couldn't tell from the audience. And I liked them. They were good for acro and nicely broken in. I kept thinking, the tour is almost over. They just need to last until June.

Then the tour got extended. But that was okay. I wasn't about to buy another pair for just a few more shows in the fall.

Then it got extended again.

By the end, they didn't have toes so much as gaping holes. When insulted, the holes became mouths and started to talk back. Eventually, the shoes developed their own personalities.

Sadly they, like so many other accessories, did not survive the post tour clean up.

May they rest in pieces.

The End

I don't know how many times I've sat down to write this, stared at the screen, and then closed the tab telling myself I'd come back to it another day. But I'm starting a new contract very soon and it doesn't seem right to begin a new adventure without tying off the loose ends of the last one.

The end just happened. Things were frustratingly ordinary the last few days. Equally frustrating was that the musicians would be playing at the party and so a good part of the troupe was busy with rehearsals for the last three days. And seeing as I was slated to make a cake for the party, that took up most of my Saturday. As a result, there was very little time to get in a last cup of tea the people I would miss most.

The second to last show was almost a disaster. And I am incredibly grateful that the near-disaster did not occur the day of the final show. It poured before the show. Rain like I have never seen. The tent has a tendency to leak around the masts, but that night, a giant puddle took up the middle of the stage. There was no way I could safely do my act. There were many backstage huddles, meetings and general "how the heck are we going to deal with this?" moments. In the end, luck was on our side, and though we had to delay a bit, the rain did stop and we were able to wipe up most of the water. There were still some puddles, but with caution and stupidity, I was able to bust out a good act.

And then, the last show...

It was a good show, I can say that. Just before going on stage, we all held hands and I thought to myself "This is the last time all of us will ever be together in the same place..." I am grateful that it didn't zip by in a flash. I felt I was able to appreciate it, savour it. My act went brilliantly. There were moments, here and there, that almost felt magical, but maybe that's just because I was hoping there would be. I think I did my best plongeon of the entire tour on trampo-wall that night. It was a really, really good show.

And then it was over. Just like that. The tear down seemed the same, if not a little more thorough. I kept waiting for some big, climactic moment worthy of the end, but none came. We had a party. We sang and danced together one last time. There were lots of hugs, lots of tears, and then I walked away.

I stepped into the cold, empty big top. A few lights were left on, but mostly it was dark. I wanted one last chance to walk that stage, those wings, to sit in the stands. And then I walked away.

I wanted to feel something. I wanted the Universe to make some kind of grand gesture to mirror the tension in my heart. But nothing happened. The sun rose, I got into a cab, and watched the big yellow tent vanish into the distance one last time.

In my mind, it's still there, set up on Circus Island. I keep thinking that I'm going back. That when I get on a plane in a few days, I will be going to France. That I will see my best friend again. That things will feel safe and familiar.

It always amazes me how in those big Life moments, the seconds pass so quickly that before you can even comprehend what just happened, you're already on the other side of the planet, waking up in your own bed, and entire chapter of your life is over forever.

I had an extremely challenging journey with my company. But it changed me, and I am a stronger, better person for it. I'm not sure that I'll ever be able to go back. Right now, everything hurts too much. Perhaps one day. Or perhaps I'll just hold on to that last image on Circus Island...

And Then It Was Over

Sunday marked the final performance of my show, and the end of a five year contract and adventure. I am at a loss for words and the only things I seem to feel are shock, depression, and denial. I had no idea it would be this hard...

I plan to write more in the days to come, but for at the moment, all I seem to be able to do is sit in daze and try not to cry...

A Song

This is the show that will not end.

It just goes on and on, my friend.

Some circus artists created it,

Not knowing what it was.

Now they’ll continue playing it forever just because...

Dancing with the Stars

I may have been skeptical going in, but I’ve got to say, I had an absolute blast filming Dansent avec les stars. I worked with French pop singer Lorie, and her partner (and fellow Montrealer) Christian.

When it comes to things like this, most people try to have nothing to do with. Seeing as we filmed after that day’s show, I expected to find myself in an empty Chapiteau. But apparently I forgot to factor in the appeal of a star, even if she isn’t the brightest star in the celebrity sky.

I’m not going to lie, I felt pretty self-conscious speaking on camera with the whole troupe watching. I was suddenly extremely aware of how French is not my first language.

We started with me seated on stage and then panned over to Lorie and Christian coming down the bleachers towards me. Lorie had no idea what she was there to do, though I’m sure being at a circus couldn’t have filled her with much confidence. She was told she would be doing German wheel. She had no idea what it was. That’s when I volunteered to give her a demonstration.

The poor thing. I thought she was going to pass out when she saw me come on stage with my wheel. I mean, yeah, I did come in free hand. That would throw anybody off. And then I went into spirals, with more freehand, and a coin spin in full split. At least I didn’t show off with a triple...

As much as the entire thing was about getting interesting images for television, she was actually there for a reason. Apparently she was having trouble with the Viennese waltz. She would get dizzy from the spinning and find herself off balance. Wheel was somehow supposed to help with this.

Now I can see how on paper wheel spinning and waltz spinning might seem like the same thing. But in reality, I wasn’t entirely sure what the heck I was supposed to do with this girl. Especially since I found out only a few minutes before she arrived. I walked her through the same three exercises I would have put any beginner through and went into a great deal of detail about having your weight aligned over your feet, knowing where your body is in space and in relation to everything around you, and the general tips for balance and spatial orientation that would apply to just about anything dancey or acrobatic.

When she first stepped on, I thought we were going to be in trouble. But after a rocky start, she actually did quite well. I had loads of fun helping her and I think she really enjoyed the experience. Then I had both her and her partner try a coin spin, mostly because I knew there was no way they would be able to do it and it would make for some funny footage for the show. Poor Christian. He landed butt facing the camera. You know that’s going to make on to the show.

Unfortunately, I’ll have a show the night it airs. But then, I don’t have a television or internet access here, so it’s not like that changes very much. I just hope I’ll be able to find it online when I get back to Canada. After all, how many people can say they got to teach German wheel to a French pop singer as a consultant on the French version of Dancing with the Stars?

Curiouser and Curiouser

While waiting to hear news of the possible extensions and whether or not I would be compensated for any loses that would result of my returning to France, I received a phone call from the tour director. Never in my wildest dreams could I have guessed what he was about to propose.

I expected him to make one more plea to have me return on my dime but instead he asked if I would be willing to be on the French equivalent of Dancing with the Stars.

I’m sorry, what?

Somehow they managed to strike up some kind of a deal where one of the contestants on the show, some French version of Britney Spears, would need to learn to spin and twirl and where better that at the circus? I would do a little demo on wheel and then give her a “lesson”. There would also be footage of our show and the life around the circus.

A great bit of publicity for the circus, surely. But why the heck are they asking me this in the middle of negotiating all that other stuff? And they’re pushing to do it before I return to Canada, perhaps in hopes of getting one last bit out of me before I leave them for good.

I guess I’ll find out when we film tomorrow.

Unexpected Reactions

When we first arrived in Paris and word got out that I wouldn’t be doing extensions, I expected backlash from my colleagues. Oddly enough, one person thanked me because he felt it meant that there would be no extensions. Everyone else seemed to understand. At least that’s what they said to me.

Then, when the possibility of extensions was revived and I was still putting up a fight, I thought for sure I would get an earful. In the past, I’ve heard the unkind conversations about others who have stood their ground about being paid for their work. Only what ended up happening is that, during the meeting, people started sticking up for me. They started saying how it would be so strange without me. Or that it really would be better to finish all together. That afternoon, another colleague said that I couldn’t be replaced. And right before the show, on the day of the infamous meeting, the guitarist came up to me and said he was so happy I would be staying after all. I told him it wasn’t settled just yet. Then he said that he hoped I would. The show wouldn’t be the same without me, and that without my act, the show wouldn’t be as good. And a friend who saw the show that night said it would take two people to replace me with all I do. I took that to be a huge compliment.

For so long I have heard from my bosses, specifically the tour director and the director, that I can be replaced*, that we’re all replaceable... and suddenly I seem to be a genuinely important part of this show... it’s a pity I didn’t feel this way until so late in the game. But I’m glad it’s happening before I go.

* Many months ago, we were asked our opinion about playing a certain set of dates. The dates we’re playing now, actually. I said I didn’t want to and the tour director told me to just leave. My act took up only a small place in the show, and yeah, there were a couple of other parts, but they would just replace me. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel satisfied that those remarks have come back to bite him in the ass.

Standoff

There was no question that it was going to be an emotionally charged day. It was the three year anniversary of the passing of my grandfather, the first grandparent I lost. And here I was, in the same town and surrounded by the same people I was with the day I got the news.

But things are very different now. I like to think I’m a little stronger. And so, when the tour director announced that we would be having a meeting about extending the tour, I knew I had to be tough. For once, it seemed like I actually held a pretty strong hand.

A few days before the meeting, the tour director came up to me asking if there was any way I could stay for the extensions. I told him I had already notified the company that I would not be continuing past the 11^th of November and that I had already booked my flight home. Then, for the first time since I started working here full time, I was actually offered a return flight home.

Now that ticket sales aren’t sucking quite so bad, the tour director desperately wants to extend the run. The company has already lost a tremendous amount of money with this venture and I think doing those extra shows would at least allow them to break even.

I told him it wouldn’t be impossible but it would depend on the dates. I have things I need to settle before I start my new contract in Switzerland. Plus, I’ve already booked a non-refundable train ticket to visit my grandmother in Ontario. And seeing as I need to renew my passport, coming back for more shows would mean getting the 24h rush at an extra cost.

Then I thought of a friend of mine. He worked for a big company and when time came to renew his contract, he wanted a pay raise. They of course played hard ball expecting that his fear of being out of work would mean accepting working for the lower sum of money. When they refused his request, he told them he quit. He did a lot in that show and was one of, if not the most visible artist on stage. He told them that he knew what he was worth and wasn’t going to be taken advantage of. Then he walked out.

That act of courage and self-worth lit a little fire in me. I know the value I have as an artist. I would tell the tour director that yes, I would come back. But not past December 16^th (they really wanted to play into New Year’s if they could), and only if they paid the full cost of the flight and not a set rate by kilometre, as is their policy. It’s a last minute flight around Christmas, I wasn’t about to absorb the cost of a ticket that will be far more than the 800E I would likely get from the kilometre system. Moreover, I want to be reimbursed for the train ticket I would be losing, as at that point they were aware that I would no longer be in their employ so it isn’t my fault that I booked it during a work period. And finally, I would ask that the extra fees of a rushed passport be covered by the circus. Were it not for them, I wouldn’t need to pay that fee. If I have to absorb all those extra costs, it would be like doing at least two shows for free.

I knew going in that the conversation with the tour director wouldn’t be smooth sailing. But seeing as the conversation I had with him when I said I would not be doing extensions was so civil, I guess I wasn’t as well prepared as I should have been. In a nutshell, he didn’t seem keen on my requests. He was so agitated that I didn’t even bring up the passport. And when I mentioned the train ticket he started ranting about not getting involved in people’s personal lives and that he’s lost train tickets and so forth and so on. He added something about the company having been around for 30 years, and they’ve always managed, but maybe they’ll go bankrupt... And then he had the nerve to say that fine, because of 100E (the cost of the train ticket) he would tell everyone that there would be no extensions and that 40 people would be out of work and likely lose their status with the unemployment office.

Now, I may have been clutching my cup of tea for dear life, but I was not about to let him pressure me like that and put that kind of burden on my shoulders. And I told him as much. For crying out loud, it works both ways. You not paying the 100E is also putting 40 people out of work, you know.

Shortly after, we had the meeting with the troupe. I was put on the spot by a colleague and so I mentioned the tour director’s attack. He flatly denied it and asked when he said it. Oh, I don’t know... a half hour ago? So what, now I’m a liar and the cause of this circus’ ruin? Delightful.

I admit, maybe I didn’t say it kindly. But I was pissed.

Then, oddly, things started to swing in my favour. The tour director suddenly became quite gracious saying how I’ve fulfilled every contract, that I’ve done so admirably, and that it’s in my rights to leave. And when he was pressed for a set end date and not the continuing possibility of extensions, the end date given was the 16^th of December. One of the other founding members kept pressing for a week longer, but as the tour director noted, I wasn’t available past the 16^th...

Afterward I called the technical director. He’s the most down to earth and friendly of the lot. You actually feel like you’re having a conversation with a human being with him, not some business man trying to get the better of you. I told him about my conversation with the tour director, and the three expenses I want covered in order to return. He thought them all perfectly reasonable. He also added that I shouldn’t feel guilty or badly, and that I need to stick to my guns. Moreover, he said that when he, the tour director, and the administrative director sat down to crunch the number about the possible extensions, he would be my ambassador and fight for what I asked for. He said at that point, it wasn’t a couple of hundred euro one way or the other that was going to make the difference.

And quite frankly, at this rate, I don’t see how they have a choice. It will cost far more to bring in a foreign artist to do my act (there are very few women doing German wheel that I know of), plus ship their wheel as mine would undoubtedly be too small. Plus there would have to be paid rehearsals. And by the time that person gets here, I’ll be gone and there will be no one to teach her the part. I gave them a month’s notice. It’s not my fault they didn’t prepare.

Based on my calculations, the cost of covering the flight, train ticket, and passport is equal to what I will earn if I come back to do the extended set of shows. So the question for the company is, am I worth my salary?

The Art of Circus Island

Oddly enough, I’ve rather enjoyed my month long exile on Circus Island. What with all the power outages and dinosaur installations, hardly a dull moment was to be had! The place certainly has potential. But that doesn’t change the fact that it is utterly ridiculous.

Ah, Circus Island. At first glance, it looks a lovely place. Sprawling gardens and hidden lawns wend their way across the island. True, the entire space is still in development and just behind the sprawling gardens are fenced off areas of mud and garbage waiting to be transformed. All in good time, I’m sure. All in good time.

Not bad.

I’m still not entirely sure what the goal is for the island. There are numerous large sandboxes. There are tiny little electric Renaults that you can zip around the perimeter of the island in. And of course the startling number of circus tents. But the thing that really makes me raise an eyebrow is the art.

I’ve already mentioned the dinosaurs. They’re on the far end of the island, away from the parks and circuses. The dinosaurs have since been joined by a pile of bricks, three concrete orbs, and a large metal spider web. A little ways off, there is a spotlit dead tree on a small hill. This scene is accompanied a disk of Latin music that is played on repeat all day long. Security guards are present 24/7, presumably to prevent anyone from turning off that infernal racket.

This is the least curious  artwork on the island.

First, we have the severed fingers.

 

Then we have a poor little birdie mourning the death of his little birdie friends.

 

From there we move on to this guy. 

 Hey there!

There’s only the one, and it’s in the middle of a field, and for some reason it is surrounded by stones painted as fruit.

 And, inexplicably, one painted as steak.

 

These rocks disguised as fruit litter the island. There are dozens of them. I only managed to find one other stone painted as meat.

 Wait, that one doesn't look right...

 

And if all of that is too mainstream for you, perhaps you would enjoy the blinding glory that is that giant, fluorescent pink scalene triangle?

Seriously though, why? Why would you do this?

 

The one piece of artwork that made any sense to me is actually hidden away in some lost little corner between some very large bushes. It is the only thing on the island that fits in with the theme of circus. It is a bronze statue that looks like a contortionist who just fell on her face. But still, a contortionist!

With construction workers wandering about daily, who knows what other exciting additions lay in store? I, for one, hope they don't come with music.

Limping Toward the Finish Line

You know that it has to end at some point, but even still, it comes as a surprise. I auditioned for this company back in 2007, came out for a number of research and creation periods throughout 2008, and as of 2009, began working here full time. In some ways, it feels like it has been forever. For the last year especially, though truthfully longer, I have felt that I need to move on to something else. And now, when suddenly faced with the end, I am overcome with emotion and don’t know how ready I am to leave after all. I suppose that’s normal though. This has been a pretty big chapter of my life as far as career and personal life goes. At any rate, with the end in plain sight, things should be getting wrapped up for a tidy, tear streaked goodbye.

This, of course, is not happening.

I mentioned that the dates had been pushed back by three weeks. I may have even mentioned that the reason for this is that the tent was at 6% capacity as far as ticket sales were concerned. The hope was that by pushing the dates back, more tickets would be sold. And they have been. One week before we’re set to open, we are now, on average, at 20% capacity...

I shouldn’t have to tell you that that’s dreadful. This is a big company. We are a big show. We should be performing to a full house every night. Or at least close to it. This is a company that feels that 500 people is a small crowd and needs to remind us to do a good job anyway, even though the audience is small. I’m not sure 200 tickets will even cover all of our salaries and operational costs.

And even with those uninspiring figures in hand, the company is still optimistic about extending the dates in Paris! The rumours have been confirmed and the idea would be to take the first week off and then do shows the following weekend, and then the weekends after that until Christmas.

Sigh...

This isn’t right. Not only is it not right, it’s ridiculous. We deserve a proper end to this tour. An exact date. This being in limbo has gone on long enough. More than half the troupe is being let go after this. And we all need to know when we can start working somewhere else. People have lives that include other things than the whims of this circus and need to be able to figure out what the hell they’re doing with their lives instead of being on call for two more months. And just the weekends? No one is from Paris. I’m from over 5000km away! Are people expected to twiddle their thumbs in Paris for weeks at a time while they wait to do three shows? Are they expected to keep making the drive back and forth to their homes every week at their own expense? What about those who come from the other side of the country? M and L have to come from super far away and have to hire a nanny for their kids during the shows. Considering what it will cost each of them to get home and back, and then the salary of the nanny, they’re probably going to lose money, not make any money.

And most importantly, this show and the people in it deserve a dignified end. That last hurrah for a full house, not a whimper in front of a couple of hundred people. You need to know when the last show is. You need to. You have to prepare yourself mentally and emotionally for that last time on stage doing that act with those people in that tent. At least, I know I do. This extension garbage, finding out a week in advance every time... it’s bullshit. I know the company is in financial difficulties, but at this point, it’s not a couple of extra shows that are going to make the difference.

I, for one, am very curious to see how the first staff meeting is going to go. My guess is that the musicians, who are staying on for the next show, will keep their mouths shut, though they will bitch heartily in private. I believe that the clowns are terrified of being out of work, so I’m guessing they won’t say much. As for the acrobats... well... I’ve already said that I’m not sticking around past the 11^th. M tends to speak his mind, so we’ll see. A talks a good game, but doesn’t always speak up at meetings. But from those I’ve spoken with, it sounds like people are reaching their breaking points.

For now, we’ll just keep hobbling along...

Bad, Bad, Bad...

Typically, when night falls on Circus Island, I tend to retire to the warmth and safety of my caravan. But on this particular night, I thought it might be a good idea to swing by the office caravan and hit up the internet.

There was a knock at the door.

There shouldn’t have been a knock at the door.

And yet for some reason I thought it might be one of my colleagues who lives in Paris. She tends to drop in from time to time. Apparently I decided to ignore the fact that she would have texted me to tell me she was coming, and why on Earth would she be coming to an empty circus island at that hour?

I opened the door to find a man.

I will spare you my first horrified reaction as it involves telling an entirely different story. At any rate, what actually happened may have been worse.

This man and his wife had come to see the show!

Seeing as I’m the only one here and there’s absolutely nothing in the tent, that was going to prove to be difficult. I was beyond mortified. Normally, ticket holders had been notified of the change of dates, and tickets had been reimbursed or exchanged. Moreover, that very afternoon I had received an e-mail from the office asking if there were any signs on the island notifying the public of the change of dates (answer: no).

To make matters worse, the island is only accessible to the public from 8am to 8pm, and by this time, the island was closed. I don’t have a key to any of the gates. And while my friends who have come by after closing just jump the fence, I was pretty sure that such a suggestion would not go over terribly well with this elderly couple.

Shit.

A few frantic phone calls and deeply embarrassed conversations later, I was able to find someone on the grounds that could help. Of course, he didn’t have a key either. Such is the wonder of Circus Island.

By this time, the couple was understandably irritated. Fortunately, this led to the clarification of some key facts.

First off, they had purchased their ticket on Monday. Monday! The dates were changed weeks ago! If the FNAC is selling tickets to shows that don’t exist, that is a very big problem. Secondly, upon closer inspection of the ticket itself, it was discovered that they had purchased tickets for the 26^th of October.

I think I actually felt the embarrassment slide off of me and latch on to the two of them.

I was in the clear!

Of course, they were still trapped on the island.

The good news is a key was soon located. The bad news is, when the couple was let out, there were more people found at the gate hoping to get in and see the show. The only silver lining there is that they were hoping to get tickets at the door. But the entire debacle highlights some serious public relations issues.

I, for one, removed myself from the situation entirely and went to shower. Of course the water heater had gone out and I could not for the life of me get it to light again.

Frickin’ Circus Island...

Zzt!

It was uncharacteristically cold when I woke up that morning. Right away, I knew something was wrong. But it wasn’t one of those things where you think “uh oh...” No. Not here on Circus Island. It was definitely more of a “not again...”

The power had gone out. This happens somewhat often. There is a lot of construction being done and sometimes they need to shut the power off. Usually it’s off for about an hour. So I trudged off to the kitchen to make tea on one of the gas burners and waited.

And waited.

And waited...

I should probably mention that it was Thanksgiving Day and I had some serious cooking to do. I had squash and chestnuts to roast, cookies and garlic knots to bake, and of course, the turkey. It would have been fine if the gas oven was working, but naturally it wasn’t. It was electric or nothing. So... nothing.

When I called the site director to find out what was going on, I was told that that morning, the cables that supply electricity to the island had been backed over by a truck and were sliced in two.

I wish I could say that surprised me.

Seriously, Circus Island. Get it together.

I was told the power would be back on by the end of the morning. It came back on at quarter to five, and then promptly went back out again. By five it was on for good and Thanksgiving was saved!

It’s always an adventure on Circus Island...

New Neighbours

So I’m in the kitchen, minding my own business, making some soup, when look out the window and see two dinosaurs staring back at me.

Specifically, a stegosaurus and a velociraptor.

This place gets weirder every day.

Abandoning Ship

There’s something I’ve been putting off for a while now, and it’s something kind of important. Especially as it’s one of those things that has consequences for a whole lot of other people. As it stands, there are shows up until the 11^th of November. But there is still a possibility of extensions, and if the circus has its way, right through Christmas. I’m pretty sure my last few posts have essentially been about how I’m ready to move on, so you can imagine how being trapped in circus limbo has been the icing on the frustration cake.

So I’ve decided that I will not be doing any of the extensions. There’s just the small matter of telling that to my employers…

I’ve worked here a long time and the thought of making that phone call produced all kinds of awesome scenarios in my head. The tour director, the man I would need to call, is pretty famous for long, winding speeches that are extremely repetitive and somehow don’t manage to say anything. I was sure I was going to get one hell of a speech. Then I could just see the director calling, and I really don’t want to have to speak with him. And I’m sure some humiliating mass e-mail would be sent out to the troupe. And then the fallout. The blame. Jumping ship in the middle of a crisis, becoming the scapegoat for the show’s failure in Paris, and dirty looks in general. After all, we’re almost done. There are only… um… some shows left, as the actual number will never be revealed. Why don’t you just stay to the end? So selfish…

I gave myself the deadline of letting them know one month before the last confirmed date. That’s today! But yesterday, on my way back from the grocery store, I could have sworn I saw the tour director on site and my stomach fell right out of me. Hm. Last time I checked, such a visceral reaction is not a good thing.

At that point, I just couldn’t wait any longer. After a pep talk from one of my colleagues who feels just about the same as I do, I called. And the ensuing conversation surprised me.

The tour director sounded tired. Disheartened and tired. I could hear that some of his old self was trying to come through, that the 11^th wasn’t the last date at all! But when I asked about the extensions he couldn’t provide any information. Finally he admitted that nothing is guaranteed. But could I at least stay until the 30^th of November because they want to have a gala for the press so that we get a good review in Telerama and therefore people will come during December because apparently that’s when people come see shows!

If people see shows in December, why are we here in October? But that’s beside the point. I told him that I was only told of the change in dates two days before my flight left. I’m here a month in advance doing nothing. I can’t stick around another three weeks for more nothing in the event that there might be a show or two. And I’ve heard from other sources that it looks like if we do extensions, it will just be weekends. And not even the first one, but the one after that. So even if there are extensions it means waiting two weeks to do two or three shows, and then waiting another week for the same thing?

No. No, no, no.

It’s not just the fact that this set of dates has meant a colossal waste of my time that I’m so set on leaving. It’s not even all the baggage and delightfully sordid history that I’m dragging behind me. The truth is, I would stay to the end if circumstances were different. They may not deserve it, but I have a very strong sense of loyalty. And so far, only five people have been in every show, and I’m one of them. My ego wants to keep it that way. I want to be able to say I made it to the end. Even if it kills me.

The thing is I have another job coming up. It was up in the air for a moment, but now everything is back on track, and I have some serious shit to do if I want this to happen. Apparently it’s quite a pain to get a visa for the country in question and I can’t even begin to apply for it until I get a new passport as mine won’t be valid for the duration of this new tour. I can’t let a ten month contract slip between my fingers because of the possibility of a few more shows. And in a shocking twist I never could have expected, the tour director agreed. He told me he can’t block me when things are so uncertain. It would be different if they knew that they had another full two months of shows like the first time we performed in Paris, but that is far from the case. Disheartened and tired…

So here I sit here at the ghost circus, feeling terribly guilty. I’ve been told I have no reason to be. If the situation was reversed, the company would totally put itself first and leave me out in the cold. Heck, they’ve already done it to people in this troupe! But five years is a long time, and as much as I’m ready for this chapter to end, it’s starting to look like I’m not ready at all.

Tent City

 
Population: me

The End is Nigh

I auditioned for my company at the end of 2007 and was officially hired on to the new show at the beginning of 2008. In 2009 I began to tour full time, and now, in September 2012, I'm about to head to Paris to perform with them for the last time.

This should be a time of reminiscing and gentle sighing, turning to no one in particular and wistfully asking "Where has the time gone?"And while I may have briefly been afflicted with graduation goggles, they have since been ripped clean off.

Every day this past week I would open my e-mail to find some new crisis developing for the upcoming set of shows.

Contents of my inbox.

"We have no ushers! Please forward this to anyone you know who might be interested!"

"We have no one to work the ticket counter! Please forward this to anyone you know who might be interested!"

"We're selling one of our computers! Please forward this to anyone you know who might be interested!"

Notice a pattern? And that's the tame stuff.

Next we're being told that due to poor ticket sales, certain promotions have been extended to cover the first six shows! Only people can't contact the office directly. They don't want to look desperate. All sales need to go through the artists...

A few days later, three shows are cancelled outright. The whole point of extending the tour into the fall of 2012 is to make money to be able to pay for the next show. Because if they don't, there is no next show. That's why we're taking a 21% pay cut in Paris. That's why they're hanging a possible two and a half months of extensions over our heads with no clear answer as to when this contract will officially end, making it extremely difficult for the more than half of us who were not asked to be in the new show to find work.

And now, the most rage inducing of all...

A few days ago I got an e-mail from a colleague asking if I got a call from the tour director. She did, but he only left a message and she wanted to know if I actually spoke with him because, "Grrr"

Not gonna lie, cryptic e-mails that end in "Grrr" don't sit too well with me. When I replied asking what the heck she was talking about, she was absolutely shocked that no one had called me. She figured that since I was coming from another continent I would be one of the first people they called!

You're probably thinking the worst, and I'm here to tell you that you're not too far off.

Things are still looking bad ticket-wise so the company has decided to push back the start of the run in Paris to the end of October. L learned this on Thursday. When I called the office, no one answered. It took an additional two days before anyone bothered to call me about this. I even had someone e-mail me about a ticket, someone who is in no way involved with the company, mention that she noticed the dates had changed. She is a member of the public and she knew about the change before I did.

I can't even begin to explain my rage.

Did I mention that I was informed of this change two days before my flight? I'm sorry but I have zero desire to dick around France for the next month while the company decides whether or not we're actually going to do any shows. And now I also have to plan a last minute, month-long stay in France? Brilliant. Just brilliant.

I'm beyond fed up. I just want this contract to end already. No, what I really want to do is go there, pick up all my stuff, head home and to hell with them. It barely seems worth it to go back for 13 dates that are looking less and less likely to even occur as the days go by.

After everything that has happened, especially in the last year, I have reached my limit. As heartless as it may seem, at this point, I feel like they've brought all this upon themselves and that they are responsible for the disaster that seems to be heading their way.

Sinking ship indeed...

Brazil

So... hey. I performed in Brazil last month. I probably should have brought that up sooner.

The last time my company performed in Brazil was kind of a disaster. Not in the sense that the show was poorly received. Not that at all. It was just that all the material for the show arrived three days later than expected and theatre was just massacring the artists (umbrella spine through someone's leg, nose smashed in by a double bass, the usual).

For the most part, things went much more smoothly this time around. True, the audience wasn't as full as the last time, but at least this time everyone left intact. There was, however, one monumental moment of drama.

As always, it was a show like any other. And then, during the second to last act, the point used for the two aerial acts decided it had had enough and just ceased to function. It would no longer go up or down. This was during the dance trapeze act, and act which has a whole helluva a lot of going up and down.

At this point in the show, those who aren't directly implicated in the trapeze act are busy setting up the structure and trampoline for the finale. Fortunately, we've gotten good at this and it happens really fast.

I say fortunately, because right around the time we managed to set everything up, things started to get a little crazy backstage.

The technician that mans the ropes during the trapeze act was yelling for assistance and everyone with a free hand was trying to fix the unknown problem. You know that wall of ropes that controls all the fly bars and whatnot in a theatre? Well A decided that the best course of action was to climb those ropes and hack at the rigging of the trapeze.

The aforementioned ropes

While this successfully dislodged a sandbag from the ceiling, a sandbag that had the courtesy not to land on anyone I might add, it did nothing to help the trapeze situation.

It was at about this time that F, the technician in charge of pulling the trapeze act, started yelling at D to get off the trapeze and, well, off the stage. B decided that the best course of action was to go on stage and dance around while the rest of us scrambled to get the next scene in place, but despite our good intentions, we had to stop. We managed to get the trapeze a little higher, and while it was technically out of the way for the trampoline number, holy crap, it was still just above the trampoline!

Notice the painting that is the shadow

of the trapeze? Awesome.

Like I said, it wasn't technically in the way, but seeing a trapeze hanging over where you're about to jump... it shakes you up a little bit.

The technicians were worried it would be a seven hour repair job, but thanks to a mysterious length of cable hiding in one of the trunks, it only took about two and a half hours. And hey, this time no one bled, so that's kind of a win, right?

The Grass is Always Greener...

...until the circus comes to town, that is. Our tent was set up on a soccer field. When we arrived, it looked like this inside:

When we left, it did not. I neglected to take the after photo. But quite frankly, it was such a sad sight, that was probably for the best.

Sorry about your soccer field, Ilkirch!

Shooting in Toulouse

You've undoubtedly heard about the shooting that occurred at a Jewish elementary school in Toulouse. Three children and one adult were killed. It is believed that the same man was responsible for the shooting deaths of three French soldiers as well.

Police have identified a suspect and his apartment is currently under siege.

Why do I mention this on a circus blog?

Not only was I in Toulouse the day of the school shooting, but the apartment and police op in question are all located just down the street from the big top! They are just over a kilometer away!

Between suicide, melting breaker boxes, instruments plummeting off the structure, multiple vehicular incidents, stomach flu, cancelled dates, seriously ailing family members of cast mates, and now a sniper just down the road, this stop in Toulouse is shaping up to be a clusterfuck if epic proportions.