Getting up from my banquette seat to make a pot of tea, I stepped on something funny. Feeling a little panicked about what could possibly feel like that, I looked down to discover that it was a misplaced clown nose.
I'm not sure which I find more bizarre. The sudden and inexplicable appearance of a clown nose on my floor, or the fact that this occurrence struck me as in no way out of the ordinary.
Quel vie de cirque.
Showing posts with label caravan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label caravan. Show all posts
Saturday, August 17, 2013
Sunday, August 11, 2013
A Roulotte to Call Your Very Own
One of the images that immediately come to mind when I think of the circus, is beautiful, intricately crafted rolling stock. Especially the roulottes. A few people on this tour have them, and I've definitely sighed many a sigh of longing admiring them.
Now I don't know why it took so long for this information to surface, but one of the artists has a friend who makes circus wagons!
If you've got 49 000 euro, or maybe just a dream, might I suggest you visit zirkuswagen.com?
Now I don't know why it took so long for this information to surface, but one of the artists has a friend who makes circus wagons!
If you've got 49 000 euro, or maybe just a dream, might I suggest you visit zirkuswagen.com?
Friday, August 2, 2013
47km to Ruin
It was not a good day for transport.
In fact, I’d be willing to bet that it was one of the worst transports ever.
The director of the circus not only clipped something on route to the new town, but he also got a 240 franc speeding ticket.
One of the workers also clipped something, and later, almost run over a cyclist.
A tire blew on one of the vehicles.
Oh yeah, and this:
A tractor trailer, apparently fed up of constantly getting stuck behind members of our slow going circus convoy, decided to over take the car and caravan. He passed them so quickly the suction caused the the caravan to swerve uncontrollably and... well... you can see the result for yourself.
No one was hurt and the caravan will likely be sent to that great big trailer park in the sky.
In fact, I’d be willing to bet that it was one of the worst transports ever.
The director of the circus not only clipped something on route to the new town, but he also got a 240 franc speeding ticket.
One of the workers also clipped something, and later, almost run over a cyclist.
A tire blew on one of the vehicles.
Oh yeah, and this:
A tractor trailer, apparently fed up of constantly getting stuck behind members of our slow going circus convoy, decided to over take the car and caravan. He passed them so quickly the suction caused the the caravan to swerve uncontrollably and... well... you can see the result for yourself.
No one was hurt and the caravan will likely be sent to that great big trailer park in the sky.
Saturday, June 22, 2013
A Little Uneven
There is an art, or rather a knack, for getting caravans level. The further along the tour we go, the more tricks I learn. But there are some places that are just out to get you. Say, for example, the ground is a little sloped and one side of your caravan ends up looking like this:
While the other, looks like this:
I think I need to get some more blocks from the workshop...
While the other, looks like this:
I think I need to get some more blocks from the workshop...
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Home Sweet Home
Our caravans are presently located between two fields. Those fields have recently been fertilized with heaping piles of manure.
In a nutshell, my caravan smells like shit.
That is all.
In a nutshell, my caravan smells like shit.
That is all.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
A Wee Problem
Have you ever been in your caravan, surfing the internet, when suddenly a French construction worker stands right next to your open window and starts peeing?
No?
Lucky...
No?
Lucky...
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Return of the Oatmeal Wagon
For those who have been following my adventures for a while, you may recall that about a year ago the circus decided to stop bringing its caravans on tour. It was decided that it would be cheaper to just rent caravans on site. Well, apparently that proved to be wrong because not only have the circus caravans returned, the circus just purchased three new ones! And by new, I mean the ginormous luxury type.
The caravans returned in Dijon and I arrived three or four days before everyone else did. I could have easily chosen one of the giant new caravans and given up the bonny wee oatmeal wagon. Especially since there are three new people in the troupe and they would have been none the wiser. Plus I have seniority and blah blah blah… But this caravan is as close to home as I’ve ever known at the circus. I know how it works and how I like to have everything set up. Plus, there’s a working fridge! Besides, if I had a bigger caravan, I’d just make a bigger mess. Not to mention it’s damn near impossible to properly heat the big ones.
Ah, oatmeal wagon. How I missed you. It turns out I made the right choice. The most luxurious of the new caravans has no running water! Admittedly, the oatmeal wagon doesn’t attach directly to a water source, but I do have a jug with a pump. It lasts me about a week and while this may just be me trying to make the best of a less than perfect situation, I like having little tasks like that as a part of everyday life. It makes me feel like I’m really living the circus life. After all, in the glory days of American circus, artists each got two buckets of water a day for all their water needs.
The best part, of course, is that when it comes time to pack up, I can leave as much as I'd like in my caravan. Now she's all packed up for the summer, but it's nice to know that come October, I'll have my home away from home waiting for me.
The best part, of course, is that when it comes time to pack up, I can leave as much as I'd like in my caravan. Now she's all packed up for the summer, but it's nice to know that come October, I'll have my home away from home waiting for me.
Friday, July 1, 2011
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.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Welcome to the Swamp!
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Pee Buckets and Space Kettles
I live in a caravan.
Its wee, but its home.
For some reason mine is one of the only caravans that doesn't have running water, but I suppose if I put up a fuss, that could change. I'm just not that fussy. And for a good reason. In my caravan, I have the two things that make everything just dandy.
I have a chamber pot, and I have a kettle.
But not just any chamber pot, and not just any kettle. No, no. I have the biggest freaking pee bucket you have ever seen ("It was all they had!" our handy man assures me) and I have a princess kettle from outer space (also the last one they had).
First, the chamber pot. Up until very recently, I would get up between two and five times a night to use the facilities. Two and five times. Its bad enough in an actual house that is warm, and where the loo is but steps away. But when hitting up the can means having to bundle up, go outside in the cold, cold night and make the trek to the equally cold, cold bathroom? A few times a night? That, my friend, is beyond lame.
Of course, having to schlep your elephant sized pee bucket across the site in order to empty and clean it every morning is a might embarrassing. But with the exception of that last sentence, I'm not complaining.
Behold! The pee bucket, in all its glory!
I threw in the roll of tp for perspective.
Then there is my kettle. My glorious, wondrous, Princess Kettle from Outer Space (so named by a dear friend and colleague). The reasons for having a kettle are numerous and obvious, so there's really no need to go into them here. But I suspect you may be wondering why my kettle is so damned amazing. Well...
My kettle is a sexy stainless steel number, with a slightly rocket shaped body. I might only see that last bit because of the space kettle thing. One really cool feature of this kettle is that is has a little window that lets you see the water inside it boiling. But that's not the best part. The best part is that when you turn it on, that little window lights up a crazy electric blue! When the water starts to boil you can see all the crazy bubbles, lit up in their glory. Its like the kettle thinks its part lava lamp.
Already, there's nothing like a steaming cup of tea. But when every cup of tea you make is a party? That's what I'm talking about.
The above photo hardly does my kettle justice. But trust me on this one. My kettle is the bees knees.
Its wee, but its home.
For some reason mine is one of the only caravans that doesn't have running water, but I suppose if I put up a fuss, that could change. I'm just not that fussy. And for a good reason. In my caravan, I have the two things that make everything just dandy.
I have a chamber pot, and I have a kettle.
But not just any chamber pot, and not just any kettle. No, no. I have the biggest freaking pee bucket you have ever seen ("It was all they had!" our handy man assures me) and I have a princess kettle from outer space (also the last one they had).
First, the chamber pot. Up until very recently, I would get up between two and five times a night to use the facilities. Two and five times. Its bad enough in an actual house that is warm, and where the loo is but steps away. But when hitting up the can means having to bundle up, go outside in the cold, cold night and make the trek to the equally cold, cold bathroom? A few times a night? That, my friend, is beyond lame.
Of course, having to schlep your elephant sized pee bucket across the site in order to empty and clean it every morning is a might embarrassing. But with the exception of that last sentence, I'm not complaining.
Behold! The pee bucket, in all its glory!
I threw in the roll of tp for perspective.
Then there is my kettle. My glorious, wondrous, Princess Kettle from Outer Space (so named by a dear friend and colleague). The reasons for having a kettle are numerous and obvious, so there's really no need to go into them here. But I suspect you may be wondering why my kettle is so damned amazing. Well...
My kettle is a sexy stainless steel number, with a slightly rocket shaped body. I might only see that last bit because of the space kettle thing. One really cool feature of this kettle is that is has a little window that lets you see the water inside it boiling. But that's not the best part. The best part is that when you turn it on, that little window lights up a crazy electric blue! When the water starts to boil you can see all the crazy bubbles, lit up in their glory. Its like the kettle thinks its part lava lamp.
Already, there's nothing like a steaming cup of tea. But when every cup of tea you make is a party? That's what I'm talking about.
The above photo hardly does my kettle justice. But trust me on this one. My kettle is the bees knees.
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