Mega Entry – The Trials and Tribulations of Dole

Coming back to France was a bit of a shock on the system. The luggage, the airport, the flight… the RER, the TGV, the Jura… none of it seemed real. Wasn’t I just in Montreal? Of all these things, what I was least prepared for was the sudden, excruciating back pain. Well, it was half sudden, really.

Back in Montreal I had started having back pain. Oddly enough, it wasn’t because of anything. As far as I could tell, it was from not doing anything. As soon as I stopped training and really took the whole ‘vacation’ thing to heart, my back started to deteriorate. It began in the car. It would hurt to sit for too long, then when I got out of the car, I couldn’t stand up straight right away.

I saw my osteo a couple of times, and while normally he works miracles, I couldn’t help but think his treatments were making things worse. Fast forward to France and I can’t even stand without being in pain.

Already, I was dreading returning to France. My ego had taken quite a bruising when my wheel died and I came back to Montreal empty handed. Here I was ill prepared to return to work with shows to do in, oh, two days time with a busted up back. Moreover, I couldn’t even get through my number. I never realized just how hard I had made my number, but it’s really hard. My cardio was crap, my legs would give out by the end, and my back was throwing up all over the place.

During my panic filled days and shame filled nights, I had the pleasure of seeing an osteo here in France. According to this guy, I had, among other things, a twisted uterus, turned pelvis, and most likely a damaged disk.

I’m sorry, what was that last one?

This is when the circus goes into panic mode. After petitioning the mayor and throwing around a bit of their weight, the circus managed to get me an appointment for an MRI in the course of a morning’s worth of phone calls.

Fun facts about MRIs in France:

They are extremely inexpensive.

They give you a CD with all the images on it.

As you can imagine, I was somewhat terrified. I went to the hospital with the technical director, whom I love, and I must admit, I cried. What if my disk was damaged in some way? I’m only just starting my career. I know there’s no such thing as a good time to get injured, but now was definitely not a good time.

And of course the director was on my case. Why didn’t I get this checked at home? I mean, other than that it all happened kind of suddenly, it takes six months to get an appointment for an MRI and I wasn’t exactly home for all that long? Its not like I wanted my back to declare war.

At this point I should mention that I not only had an osteo tell me I likely had disk damage, but the doctor as well. Of course the doctor also hypothesised that I may have micro fractures in my vertebra. Needless to say, I expected the worse.

What I got, was this:


I know, eh?

Clean as a whistle, sharp as a thistle, the best in all Westminster!

Except, mostly just the ‘clean as a whistle part’.

No tears, no fractures, no damage. Which is fantastic! Except for the part where my back still really hurt and I had no idea why. I know, I know, I should have been really happy that there was no disk damage (and I was, and I am) but I had what felt like electrical currents shooting down my sacrum. I kind of wanted some answers.

And of course, the MRI being clean, the general prognosis among the troupe is that it’s all in my head.

Great.

Did I mention the director was on my case? In an effort to heal, I didn’t do one of the first run-throughs. After that and a poor showing of my number in general, I also cut my number in half. I’m told that normally, the circus is pretty cool with adapting numbers (or cutting them out completely) when an artist to too sick or injured to perform. However, the timing being what it was, I wasn’t really given that luxury with a blessing.

It would appear that over the summer, the show got less than an outstanding review by Telerama. Telerama, I am told, is the French equivalent to TV Guide and their reviews generally mean something. Mind you, I’m also told that the general public typically agrees that whatever Telerama says, its best to think the opposite.

Anyway, all that to say that there were some serious insecurities floating around. Suddenly, the director is changing scenes, cutting scenes, rearranging scenes and screwing around with the music. By the end of the week in Dole, he had managed to alienate the entire cast. After a two month break and two or three days of rehearsal, we were basically told that what were doing wasn’t good enough. Not enough feeling, not enough life, poor rhythm, the works.
And of course, I got a special place in the “not good enough” category. It would seem that the wheel number is an important moment in the show. It’s the moment where the rhythm really takes off, the space opens, and the show really starts! So I’m told. All that to say that my half-number wasn’t good enough.

I was in pain. I probably shouldn’t even have been doing my number at all, but out of guilt and a “take one for the team” mentality, I did it any way. I worked with the musicians to shorten the music (they did brilliantly by the way). And while the first night was shaky, I feel like we pulled it off in the end.

But the director just kept on me. The first show where I actually felt good before the performance, the show where things were really starting to work in my mini act, he came up to me afterwards and essentially said that it wasn’t enough. They way he said it, it was as though the reason the show wasn’t working was because my act wasn’t working.

Awesome.

Did I mention the director alienated the entire troupe in a matter of days?

Dole sucked. Not the city or the shows, but the atmosphere. They never should have cut the rehearsal days before Dole (and Paris) after a two month break. The director should have some faith in the message he’s trying to share and not tear his artists to pieces. Also, my back should stop hurting.

Dole came and went with a fizzle and some hurt feelings. Hopefully, Paris will be different. But with big changes looming (didn’t mention that did I?) and the eyes of the capital upon us, the fun is undoubtedly just beginning.

Ayoye...

Well hello there!

I haven't written in (over) a month and I'm sure you must be puzzling your puzzler about what I've been up to. Well, up until a week ago, the answer was nothing. I was still on vacation, still without a wheel, and pretty darned bummed about the whole of it.

To break up this monotony during this time off, however, I started having mad back pain for no reason at all. Just the Universe's way of keepin' it real, I suppose.

Also, I'm back in France.

As you can imagine, these things combined have not amounted to anything terribly good. The repercussions on both the show, my mental and physical health, not to mention my wallet, have been many and not usually good.

But all these lovely stories will come to light in due time. After a four day stint in Dole, we now have another two weeks off. And as much as I'd love to start to fill you in on the latest trials and tribulations of this saltimbanque, I'm afraid I have yet another doctor's appointment to attend.

Break's Over

Once again, I've fallen off the blogging bandwagon. In a lot of ways, I suppose its understandable. This blog is supposed to be about my experiences working as a circus artist and I'm somewhat on the underemployed side of circus these days. However, that is a reality of the modern day circus artist.

Some days (or months), there's just no work.

So it looks like I'm going to need to refocus the blog over the next month to reflect that.

Normally, in a situation like this, I would be training at the circus school, keeping my wheeling abilities up to scratch. However, as I am without wheel at the moment, that's not exactly in the cards. The good news is, a new wheel has been ordered! Its a real Zimmermann wheel from Germany too! They're the Cadillac of German wheels, if ever you're in the market to get one.

So, what's an acrobat to do? I've made up a work out (which I have been doing a very poor job of following), go for lengthy walks (more on that later) and will be participating in some fun classes!

In the end, it is just a month off. I figure I can keep fit and give myself a little vacation at the same time. I'm pretty sure that's how normal people do it.

Flashback II: Thank Heavens for Little Girls

No matter how frustrating things got in California, no matter how head-smackingly unbelievable; one thing made it all worth while. And while this is going to sound horribly cliché, it was the children. Specifically, little girls.

I used to work at a girl's clothing store and let me tell you, there was a considerable amount of clothing that was hardly appropriate for little girls. Fish nets, crop tops, satin nighties, open back shirts... all these items were available for girls as young as five! Can you imagine a five year old girl in a triangle string bikini? What exactly is going to keep that top in place? Especially on a wiggly little kid?

But I'm getting a little off topic. The point is, it seems to me that there aren't many options out there for little girls. I see so many of them who appear to be dressed way older than they are, and let's face it, its not like there are that many positive, strong role models out there for young girls.

When little girls would come up to me after a show, full of questions and awe, it made me feel really good. I don't imagine they often have the opportunity to see a young woman who is strong, dynamic, elegant and fierce. I could see on the faces of these young girls that this was entirely new to them.

Yes, there are Olympic gymnasts, but typically, the ones who make the presses are the cutesy little darling types. The emphasis tends to be put on their sweetness rather than their skill. Think Dominic Moceanu or Shawn Johnson.

I know that when I was a little girl, seeing a strong young woman, without ribbons and ruffles, living her dream and actually earning a living from it would have been a tremendous experience. I may not have known it at the time, but often, it only takes a second for a seed to take root, and a single instant can remain with us for a lifetime. I was 10 when I saw Quidam. And the only acts I remember from that show are tissu and German wheel. Not banquine (everyone is shocked that I don't remember the incredible banquine act from that show), but German wheel. Now, I do wheel for a living and the first Canadian to compete at the German Wheel World Championships.

It only takes an instant.

And it's instants like that, where a child looks at you and sees limitless possibilities before them, that they can be more than what popular culture dictates... that doesn't just make the job worthwhile. It reaffirms that this entire career path was the right choice and that it's a very important job to be doing.

Flashback I: It's the Apocalypse!

It was the last show of the week and we were all aching for our first days off since arriving in California. As we waited for our cue in the depths of the park basement, an unknown force was about to unleash total chaos.

Without warning, the lights went. Our immediate reaction was "Hooray!", quickly followed by "um... it's really dark down here..."

After about thirty seconds emergency lights came on and park employees started scrambling about trying to figure out what the hell had just happened, and also, to keep customers (and their wallets) in the park.

By this time, we had left the basement as it was time to start to show. Some measly power outage wasn't going to stop us! That, and we didn't really know what else to do. Almost as soon as we were back above ground we were told to head back to the basement. The power outage was park wide. Rides stopped and people were stranded. The folks on the roller coasters actually had to get out of the cars and climb down! Only one generator was operational and all its juice was going towards getting people off the stranded cable cars before they fried in the afternoon sun.

Meanwhile, in the basement, we were all very excited about the possibility of having the afternoon off and heading to the beach. After all, there was no music. And no music means no show! However, before we could get our hopes to high, a messenger came to tell us that yes, we would be doing the show, there would be no music, and for the love of god, make it longer and keep people in the park!

In other words, no pressure.

What followed was an extremely enriching experience that left me feeling very proud of my fellow acrobats and I.

I have never been one for street performing. I have huge amounts of respect for those who do it, and greatly admire those who do it well. Its just not something that I want to do myself. Fortunately, the opening act in the show is performed by a diaboloist and seasoned street performer. He set the mood brilliantly, working the crowd and setting the pace for the show.

Quick whispers between artists on stage meant improvised group scenes so that no one would be left alone on the silent stage. Songs were started randomly and the rest of the group joined in.

Most acts were extended and all seemed to somehow be upgraded.

The most impressive act of ingenuity would have to have been the improvised drum accompaniment to the simple wheel act. Using nothing but junk in the dressing room, we managed to put together a full out percussion section that flat out rocked it.

Then, during the big romantic moment of the show, the music miraculously came back on! Its true what they say, love overcomes all! Outstanding!

I don't think we ever did a more energetic show, nor were we ever more committed than we were that afternoon. And if the music coming back on right at the love song wasn't enough, the rides began to start up again just as the show ended. Incredible.

Needless to say, I learned a lot about thinking on my feet that day and working with what you've got. My only regret is that the music came back before my number. I didn't have a chance to pull off any skin-of-my-teeth showmanship. But judging by my experiences in circus thus far, I'm sure the opportunity will present itself at some point.

Epilogue: Part II

I've been back home in Montreal for a few days now. Things seem to be in order, and it looks like I can begin to leave California behind me. Those with whom I had unfinished business have been spoken to, and any remaining issues have been resolved. I really do try to be professional and I wanted to end this debacle on a positive note. Not to mention tie up any loose ends. I feel really good about conversations that took place with the higher ups, as well as those I had with those in my circus community (they were all very supportive).

All that's left to do is write about two events during my brief run in CA that were particularly moving. So without further ado...

Epilogue: Part I

There is nothing I would like more than to wash my hands of this entire California ordeal. However, there are two points I wanted to write about before certain events left me unemployed. I feel I owe it to... something... to write those two posts. There's also a very good chance I'll have updates on post wheel-death activities.

I'll keep you posted.