MegaSequin

2012-02-26T17:28:00.000-08:00

In the “How to Blog” online writing class I took this past summer, I learned that blogs should have an angle, they should be specific. Like “I am a single parent in New York City and here are my struggles,” or “I am a motorcycle enthusiast traveling the United States and here are my tales.”

I feel like I started with this intention; last year I was an “I am a fresh-off-competition ice skater touring with a professional skating show through Europe and here are my silly adventures.”

But now, round two, I realize, I ain’t got no angle!

I can’t figure out if my main goal here is playing travel writer or working out some psychoanalytical stuff.

And truth be told, they are both kind of fun.

Because I didn’t fall head over heels for this dealio last year, I waver between working through my feelings about this experience and just turning my attention towards the traveling aspect of the job.

You may have noticed.

And I am not sure that will change. It was just an observation. And a good set up for the following...

As far as the travel aspect goes, I will say that Dresden is place to see. And this can be backed-up by a recent National Geographic article: http://travel.nationalgeographic.com/travel/best-trips-2012/

It is a beautiful town, as you can see....

With funky areas, like Kunsthof Passage...

And the most beautiful dairy store in the world (I had to take a picture of the bag, because photos are not allowed inside)

On a gorgeous sunny day, the city looks even better....

When you want to know the time, you can check out this bad boy...

And if you never want to be reminded of the time, there is plenty of nightlife too....

And for the what-is-going-on-in-my-brain portion of this, I am proud to say that I am feeling optimistic. Even giddy.

We head to Berlin next and will be there for three weeks. Then there are just two more cities after that, which strikes me as crazy. Crazy because it means the following:

Three more openings.

Three more times having to figure out where the #$@% to enter the building.

Three more times setting up our dressing room tables.

Three more times trying to find coffee stand.

Three more ice surface sizes to get used to.

Three more times packing up our dressing room spots, crates, costumes, etc.

And that sounds really manageable. And it also sounds like it means this:

Three more places to not cry in.

Three more environments to carry out a “no bullsh*t” policy.

Three more venues to try to not worry about what others think.

And three more places to practice handstands!

2012-02-20T12:48:00.000-08:00

This city hasn’t been much to write home about. A lot of buildings look like this:

Or like this:

Which has been a bit of a bummer, because in order to survive this madness here (and not have to deal with too much “bullsh*t” from myself,) I have to find a good balance between resting and saving money and getting out and enjoying the city.

Since there is not much to see or do, I’ve lost my balance this week. And it doesn’t feel good.

It feels a little like a hangover. Or an upset stomach. I haven’t decided.

The one saving grace this city has been a small record store I found a few blocks from the hotel.

Just as I had been thinking about my resolution to buy records instead of CDs, I walked right past this store. At first I decided not to go in, because it seems a bit unnecessary to start collecting records while essentially backpacking through Europe.

But then I changed my mind. And walked back.

Inside I met Andreas, who seemed to be the sole owner/worker of the store. He mentioned that he was shipping a record to Virginia, an East German print of a Whitney Houston album (still can’t believe it.)

I was fascinated by this special East German something he was talking about. Andreas explained that East Germany had their own special label, called AMIGA. The albums usually involve simpler designs, because there wasn’t enough money to have lots of different colored inks, and the prices listed on the albums are listed in East German marks.

I thought this was way too cool, so I bought another copy of the Whitney Houston album he was shipping (still heartbroken) and a very simple-looking Beatles album.

Then I went back the next day and bought a Madonna album, Bruce Springsteen album and an album by The Police.

And Andreas threw in a bonus album by an East German band called Puhdys, but one where they sing in English. Thoughtful!

And there you have it. My Zwickau highlight.

Goodbye Zwickau. Dresden, you're up next!

Goal Assessment. Warning, there is cursing.

2012-02-11T18:31:00.000-08:00

I had set some goals for myself this tour and I think it is time to check in with them.

First, I had wanted to blog once I week. And, eh, I haven’t strayed too too far from that. Although it hasn’t always been once a week, it has honestly been more often than I expected. It has also been messier and sometimes haphazard. But my goal wasn’t to write a better blog, so let’s not focus on mere details.

I also swore to never check to see if my blades were dull until I started sliding around on the ice a whole bunch. And yeah, I now pretty much wait until things feel really bad or my butt makes contact with the ice to consider getting my skates sharpened.

My hand-standing goal seems to be coming along well. I can get into one on my first try, but I am still too scared to try it without the wall for balance. I think it’s time to confer with coach Jane about the next step.

As far as not crying on the job goes, I am proud to say that I was put to the test yesterday, and passed with flying colors. Good thing my goal isn’t to “not act like a little baby at work” because that I would have failed at that miserably.

Also, I had stated that I wanted to find a balance between hanging out with people and spending time alone. I think I’ve done a pretty good job at that.

But that leads me to my big super hard challenging goal, which is the not worrying about if people like me goal. That one is driving me nuts.

We are at the half-way point in tour and it is this point that turns everyone crazy, myself included.

The lack of balance between this life and any other life you’d like to have co-exist makes you forget who you were before this tour train left the station. You kind of forget what makes you a whole person, and instead you become a weird imitation of yourself, who wears entirely too much make-up.

For me, my crazy manifests in this over-analyzed concern of what others think about me. I know! So self-centered! There is about one person here who probably truly doesn’t like me, other people who may not like me for no good reason, and a WHOLE BUNCH of people who don’t ever think about me.

And I have an experiment for you. Find one person in your daily life and decide that they don’t like you. Then watch what happens.

Any silence between you and that person means something.

If that person does or doesn’t make eye contact with you in the hall means something.

And if that person does or doesn’t sit next to you to eat breakfast or ride the bus means something.

And all this meaning, which was made up in your head, adds up to one big fake concern.

And this is how I make myself crazy.

Luckily, this year, I understand that this happens. I become crazy; it is par for the course. But I also get that while I turn crazy, I also have my sanity, which I know doesn’t make a lot of sense, but hold on...

You see, you have two different selves working at once. Your emotional self is the one that turns crazy, like would happen in any good reality TV show, but your rational self acknowledges that this is happening and tries its best to keep the crazy in check. It says, “Hey buddy, be cool. No need for nonsense.”

It reminds me of my favorite moment in the “Winnebago Man” youtude video (a video of a man clearly frustrated while taping some promo stuff at work.)

Jack Rebney is basically cursing the entire video, but offers this gem of a line while doing it:

“Listen, I gotta give a clue here now. I don’t want anymore bullshit anytime during the day, from anyone, and that includes me.”

Which also reminds me of how one of our cast members said today, “I need to put myself in a time out.”

Ahhhhh. At least we can recognize when we start going down this foolish path. And admitting is the first step, right?!

So, I will now head to my time-out and try my best to enforce a “no bullshit” from myself policy.

Let’s hope I can stay there for 7 more weeks. ;)

Things I Learned in San Jose

2012-02-05T12:54:00.000-08:00

Happy Super Bowl Sunday. I will hopefully catch some of this game I don’t understand (football is so confusing!) in an Irish pub somewhere here in Munich.

Speaking of confusing sports, I was lucky enough to work and watch the 2012 U.S. Figure Skating Championships in San Jose, California.

Things I learned during my week in San Jose:

Ice skating is fun to watch.

There is not one cell in my body that wishes I were still competing.

I can say the above because I still get to skate and perform a lot. I am very grateful for that.

Speaking of which, Brent and I should be really proud that we still skate together, even if we don’t like each other much (just kidding Brent.)

Also, I probably don’t wish I were competing because everyone is so damn good. I know I’d get my booty kicked.

In certain environments, old habits must be hard to break because although I was not competing, I was still very critical of myself (see below.)

I have not mastered the English language. Complete sentences are still a struggle.

While someone is having what seems to be their most important moment in their life on the ice, someone else is selling popcorn.

And, here is something else:

After watching all the wonderful skating in San Jose, I found myself really inspired. I now want to go home, jump on some sequin-free ice, and work on my skating skills...and my speed, flexibility, some creative lifts, and maybe even some fast twizzles.

I would describe all the skaters who made me feel this way as “inspiring," because, obviously, their skating is what makes me feel inspired.

Then I think about Jeremy Abbott.

And I realize I wouldn’t describe Jeremy’s skating as “inspiring.” He might be inspiring as a person, but not his skating.

This is what his skating is to me: devastating.

Watching Jeremy skate does not motivate me to become a better skater. Instead, I want to throw my skates in the garbage and write apology letters to anyone who has seen me skate, for I have greatly wasted their time.

Because while watching him skate (and I am talking about the way he moves on the ice here) you realize that what you are watching is the closest thing to organic perfection you might ever see.

It is the level beyond the level beyond inspiring. It’s from some other universe. It cannot be taught or learned, it is completely natural, and it is what we all wish we had, which is why it is so crushing.

I don’t say this to make Jeremy feel bad (I would never!) but more to put into words this thing I just realized, that somewhere far beyond the land of inspiration lies the land of devastation.

Plus, we need the Jeremy Abbotts of the world to help put us in our place, which is standing, in awe, and drooling just a little...which isn’t a bad place to be ;)

Vienna. Part Two.

2012-01-23T03:07:00.000-08:00

Vienna, part two.

Brent and I are leaving Vienna, broke and exhausted.

I think we did Vienna right.

After my family and friends left, I was determined to keep the bar of activity level right where they had left it, which was high.

I thought, "Hey, I will pretend I am one of those professional travel show hosts. I will go around and try different things, see different sights, and find the cool local spots, all in a matter of days, even hours." Easy.

And after one week of this, two things dawned on me.

First, these professional travel guides probably don’t do it solely on their own dime.

And second, they probably don’t also do an ice skating show or two each day.

Nonetheless, it was worth it. Very worth it.

So, here is a run down of what was accomplished in Vienna, week 2.

-The Rene Magritte exhibit at the Albertina.

Beautiful steps outside

Thought-provoking art inside.

-The Klimt/Hoffman exhibit at the Belvedere.

-Pilobolus “Shadowland” performance at the Museumquairters.

-Phil. Again. And then again. Yes, it is that good. Try the falafel.

-Cafe di Castello. Again. This time for breakfast (try the egg toast with green beans and pistachios) and to leave a little note for Michael in this book:

See, we know he will miss us this week and need something to cheer him up.

-Dancing at the swanky Volksgarten. But not so swanky that they wouldn’t let me in wearing Vans (it was a 12 euro cover, so I guess beggars--them-- couldn’t really be footwear choosers.)

-Prater. The Coney Island of Vienna.

-Onyx bar. A unique and surprisingly beautiful view of the St. Stephan’s church roof.

-MAK cafe. Best place to recycle an old bottle. Notice the chandelier:

-Dots experimental sushi.

-Vestibul restaurant. For fancy desserts and very friendly service. I got the chef’s autograph!

-Common People clothing store in the 7th district. For common people, like myself and Kathrin.

-Klein’s cafe. Small. Good food. Good music. Feels like an established old school cafe for the less traditional.

A Klein’s menu. Notice the stack of CDs in the background.

-Yellow restaurant. Exceptional asian food across from the Westbanhof.

-And, because we just had to....the Eistraum in front of the Rathaus. SO fun and absolutely one of the top then things to do in Vienna.

When I was doing my "European stroll," which is what I call getting lost while listening to some music, I came across this graffiti:

Three aliens, or some other outer space creatures and the words "Welcome...Life." Either they are saying "welcome, life forms" or "Welcome Life!" Definitely the former makes sense, but I decided to go with the latter. I decided to welcome life this past week. And it was awesome.

Now, as we fly from Vienna to San Jose for the U.S. Championships (woo woo) I have a new motto:

Welcome........

Nap

2012-01-17T18:10:00.000-08:00

Vienna is a pretty special place, which I did previously know. Brent and I competed here twice, at the Karl Schafer Memorial, and both times hold a special place in my heart. The first trip marked our first international competition together. Our second trip was the first time we won a medal at an international competition (half of our grand total international medal count!)

And during both of these trips I remember loving this city. The sacher torte at the Hotel Sacher, climbing up to the old dinning hall at the back of the Schonbrunn garderns, and roaming the streets in the evening, ducking in and out of the various beautiful churches.

But getting to visit Vienna outside of a competition is even better. There is no practice ice to get in the way (yep- we pretty much don’t practice while on tour) and I am way more likely to try unknown local foods and wine (the latter because our coach Robbie isn’t here with his judging eye. Just kidding Robbie. I know, it’s just a rule.)

And, it must be noted that this past week I had a group of four “go getters” visiting, which really upped the level of activity.

And yes, I did really enjoy Munster. But Vienna! Vienna is one a the top-ten cities in the world. It’s in a whole different category.

But with that comes a downside. And that downside is that I already feel like a failure; I just know I won’t do everything that I now want to do in Vienna.

Here is what has been accomplished so far:

-Spanish riding school: best place to see horses prance to compulsory dance music!
(At least someone is keeping the spirit alive.)

-Naschmarkt: best outdoor market with local specialties, a fair trade chocolate store, and a tiny restaurant named “Kim.” Obviously good.

-Madiani: delicious yet inexpensive Georgian restaurant in a smaller outdoor market.

-Demel: best cafe to watch beautiful pastries being made while eating the delicious scrambled eggs.

-Cafe Speril: classic old school Viennese cafe with almost as good scrambled eggs.

-Cafe Sacher: best classic Viennese setting with famous sacher torte.

-Phil: most laid-back, hip cafe that has wonderful falafel and books and records to browse.

-Cafe Dreschsler: great hang out most hours of the day. Pretty looking coffee.

-Orlando di Castello: funkiest cafe with a very unique and modern look.

-Heurigen Fuhrgassl Huber: typical wine tavern in the Vienna wine region, serving only in-house wine.

-Julius Meinl: fanciest gourmet grocery store with wine bar below.

-1st American bar: most comfortable dark lounge that we thought was the...

-Loos American bar: famous, very small and smokey bar (I kind of preferred the previously mentioned American bar.)

-Sofitel hotel bar: breath-taking view of the city, with spectacular interior decor to match.

-Schonbrunn gardens: best place for a photo shoot, with scarves.

-Saint Stephan’s church: best use of lighting + stain glass

-Fledermaus bar: best place to lose track of time on a Sunday night. 60’s/70s music night!

this is actually us losing track of time after the bar.....

-Side trip to Budapest: best combination of history + scenery + nice tour guide + handsome tour guide + fun-loving tourists

Here is what is still on my list:

-Onyx bar

-Fluc

-Die Rote Bar

-Bettel-Am

-Klimt exhibit at the Belvedere

-ice skating in front of the Rathaus

-Klein’s cafe

-Le Bol

-MAK

-Sass Music Club

-Motto Am Fluss

-Viennese ball

-and some shopping!

It is just one of those cities that the more you do, the more you discover you want to do.

Damn you Vienna!

P.S. I love you.

Handstands, Uno, and the city of Munster

2012-01-08T08:59:00.000-08:00

Good news. It is harder to cry while doing a handstand.

I am thinking that it is much less a gravity thing and more a distraction thing. I am concentrating so much on the hand standing that I can’t really give my emotions much thought.

So, getting better at handstands should help me cry less. It’s like the expression “killing two birds with one stone” but far less violent. More like, “achieving two goals with one handstand,” or maybe just “grow a pair!”

Oh yeah, I also worked on pointing my toes for anyone who noticed the lazy feet. How embarrassing.

Now I just have to figure out how to take this handstand off the wall.

But enough about me.

How about Munster?

Munster is the city we have been in these past ten days and just may be one of my favorite German cities. It is the bicycle capital of Germany (I am not even sure what that means, but I like it) there are a ton of students, it is easy to get around, and it is pretty liberal.

On our first day here, Brent, Jane and I walked around the city to do some “recon” for New Year’s Eve. Jane and I had done this last year in Essen and it seemed to work pretty well. We scoped out a bunch of bars,analyzed deliberated, then made a very informed decision on where to ring in the new year.

You see, the maturity and intelligence put into the decision making process makes the immaturity and silliness of the actual night okay. It’s a wash.

This time, during our exploration, we found a cool-looking and eco-friendly clothing store, which led us to a cool-looking and eco-friendly guy, who then made us a list of cool-looking (and possibly eco-friendly) bars. Jackpot!

On this list was a bar very close to our hotel, called SpecOps. We knew it wasn’t a place for New Years, but a good place to grab a drink at some point.

That point came the following night, with Brent, Paul, Charlene, Michael, Michael’s parents and Michael’s very first skating coach.

As we walked in, we noticed was how quiet the bar was. There was some pretty great music playing, but that was it; no one was talking.

We thought, “Oh sh*t, we are going to be the loud Americans” (who dragged a poor French girl with them.)

Then we realized that at every table groups of friends were playing good old fashioned games-- board games and card games (note- NOT video games.) Behind the bar was an array of games to choose from.

It was pretty nice; there didn’t seem to be a smart phone, computer, blue tooth earpiece, or social networking machine in sight, and although there wasn’t much conversing going on, everyone was participanting in some group activity. Face to face. Crazy, right?!

One point for you, Munster.

So we grabbed Uno, some chips, salsa, drinks and made ourselves comfortable.

And I feel it necessary to mention--for any of you that might place bets on Uno games-- that the “older generation” (as in Michael’s parents and skating coach) kick a** at it. Watch out for them.

Ringing in the New Year in Munster

2012-01-01T08:46:00.000-08:00

Happy 2012!

We had a fun night out in Munster, Germany to ring in the new year.

Something I have learned about the Germans is that they love fireworks. Not the big professional kind, but the smaller ones we typically buy for the Fourth of July. These here must be really safe though, because there is zero caution used with them. They are lit with cigarettes, thrown over people heads, and into buildings.

Craziness, but super fun.

So, something I learned about myself this past week is that I apparently have this goal for tour:

I WILL NOT cry on the job.

Last year was an emotional roller coaster. We couldn’t quite find our confidence within the show, we were coming to terms with a nomadic existence, and we encountered entirely too much behind the scenes drama.

This lead to some crying. Yuck.

Since last year I have realized a lot about this job. And learned a lot about life.

And boy, if anything is clear to me, it is this: no tears should be shed while wearing a snake outfit, or really any skating outfit (unless you are laughing of course.)

So, last Monday we were a bit tired, and we took a fall that scared me. And disappointed me too, of course. And I was tired, as I already mentioned. But in that moment, in a moment where some therapeutic crying would have felt so good, I was surprised to find myself using what energy I had left to hold it all back.

As my boyfriend has often advised me to do, I just pushed my emotions way deep down.

You see, crying is sadly something that comes easy to me. I feel like my tears are always right there, on stand-by, ready to reveal themselves at any possible moment. You know those cool friends who are down for anything, always looking for a good time, and always ready to party? Well, my tears are just like that, except exactly the opposite.

It sucks, but I do know I am in good company. I have a friend (true story! I don’t pay her or nothing!) who has the simple goal of not crying on holidays. Kinda like me with my job! She has started with baby steps, tackling Grandparent’s Day and Labor Day first, but once she builds up her confidence I am convinced she will make it through Valentine’s Day and New Year’s tear-free.

On a lighter note, I did come up with another goal a few weeks back. I would like to be able to execute a handstand by the end of tour. I see people do handstands all the time and it looks like tons of fun. Plus it makes for such a great Facebook profile picture.

Jane has agreed to be my handstand teacher and I must say, so far so good. She has assigned me the homework of doing three handstands per day, with the assistance of the wall.

Actually, first she had me try one handstand with a few people spotting, to asses where I was with my goal.

She assessed zero.

So, I have my homework, I have been doing it, and my handstands are getting more comfortable.

But here is my question: Will all this hand-standing make it difficult to achieve the no crying goal? If my tears always on the verge of spilling out, will they spill out easier if I turn upside down too much?

Sounds like I need to take this question to the streets. And by streets I mean the dressing room.

2011-12-25T13:05:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas!

I saw my last Christmas markets of the year in Nuremberg, Germany and for the first time saw how festive Sun Valley is with all it’s Christmas lights. Overall, it has been a good Christmas season.

Christmas makes me think of gifts and gifts make me think of this:

Recently, I have grown a likeness for, let’s call it, “item matchmaking.” I like to find things that already exist in my life, and give them to people that might like them.

For instance, when I was cleaning out some things in Germany, I ran across a DVD of Happy Texas, the movie my uncle directed and co-wrote. Knowing I wanted to bring a thank you gift to friends in Sun Valley, I grabbed it to give to them. We had talked about the movie this past summer, so I thought they’d like to see it.

And when I was cleaning out my old room this past fall, I found a pink and white Hello Kitty scarf. A few days later, I visited my brother’s family and found out my niece’s bedroom is completely decorated in Hello Kitty stuff. So--*spoiler alert, Diamond!*--I have left this scarf for her as a Christmas present.

But before I go patting myself on the back, I will admit that I don’t actually know if this is a good thing. Is it really nice to give someone something I found in my suitcase or my old bedroom? Or is that mean? Or cheap? Or both mean and cheap?

If the answer is yes to these last questions, I would like to clarify that I do not participate in this item matchmaking out of meanness or cheapness. Okay, maybe a little bit of frugality gets the better of me sometimes, but I do know that my motivation lies somewhere else.

This habit has manifested as a by-product of this gypsy lifestyle. Because I have such limited space to store things, I don’t like accumulating a bunch of stuff. Absolutely everything in my suitcase must have a purpose. This is key.

Therefore, there is nothing more maddening than running across something-- say a sweater, book, make-up brush--on a daily basis, knowing that you haven’t used it and most likely will not. I feel I am just basically giving this object a free European vacation without it giving me anything back.

Unfair.

So, this is how I have picked up the habit of matching items to owners. And, isn’t it a win-win if I can find someone who might use this sweater, book or make-up brush?

Makes sense to me.

But let me tell you about the things that can’t find a purpose or appropriate owner.

Some of us skaters have been lucky enough to inherit trunks. These trunks travel in one of our several trucks that transports the show (the props, costumes, etc) from city to city. This is our one source of storage outside of our suitcases.

And what seems to happen is that you stuff your trunk with things you might need, but obviously don’t use (or else it would be in your suitcase, right?) So, when you come across one of those items that you aren’t using--that slightly itchy sweater, that kinda wordy book, or that odd-looking make-up brush--and there is no obvious home for it (like someone who would actually appreciate it) you put it in your trunk. Just in case.

And then what happens to it?

Well, at some point, you throw it away. It is a bit of a drawn out process. Suitcase--trunk--then eventually trash.

Yep, our trunks are like traveling garbage cans.

But, like I said, that is for the items that don’t get matched. The ones that do find loving owners with my help avoid this whole sad story!

Which leads me back to the part where I hesitated to pat myself on the back. I think I will accept that pat now. I think what I am doing isn’t so bad after all. :)

Merry Christmas all. And, you are welcome for those old and dusty gifts.

Every Day Cannot be like Valentine's Day

2011-12-12T01:14:00.001-08:00

I am not a fan of Valentine’s Day. And for no other reason than that I just don’t care about it. On a few occasions, when I have said, “I am not a fan of Valentine’s Day” I have been met with “I know, because every day should be like Valentine’s Day, right?”

Wrong. Every day should not be like Valentine’s Day. For starters, it just can’t.

I thought about this a lot this weekend.

Very quickly the show has begun to consume my whole day. We had our first 3-show day on Saturday, which is of course pretty tiring (as each show lasts 2 1/2 hours) but also borderline mundane. You check-in, put on your make-up, warm-up a bit and then... skates on, costume on, costume off, skates off, skates on, next costume on, costume off, skates off, skates on, Christmas costume on, costume off, skates off, skates on, next costume on, costume off, new costume on, costume off, quick change into next costume, costume off, quick change again, costume off, skates off. Repeat. And repeat again.

Within this show cycle there are the numbers of course, the skating. That fortunately takes a little bit of focus. A saving grace of the day, possibly.

Also within the day are these things we call “goodies.” They are little moments you have with other skaters, like a point, look, high-five, secret handshake, little dance, etc. They can be backstage, in the dressing room, on the ice. And here is the main thing: they are consistent. Once you have a goodie, you do it every show.

Because this is now our second year performing the same show, and our principal cast has stayed the same, there are many goodies that have carried over from last year’s tour. For example, I always look at Andre in Bolero right before our bracket step and give him a little nod or wink. I did it last year, and now it is just part of my choreography, whether I like it or not.

And in the opening, right before Brent and I do our 3-turn step around each other, I look over my left shoulder and give Michael a little point, and he gives a smile.

Again, we did this last year, so instantly we did it this year as well.

A few night ago, we had a moment of truth. A heart-to-heart let’s say. Maybe we said we felt bored in the show, maybe we said the drinks at the bar were too strong. Who knows. This is what I do know: Michael turned to me and said exactly what I felt.

“I F#$%ING HATE OUR GOODIE!”

And it felt so good to get the truth out. We had done that goodie so many times. It wasn’t genuine anymore. I didn’t want to point at Michael. He didn’t want to smile back. It was a faked goodie, and it felt awful. It made us both angry.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why every day CANNOT be like Valentine’s Day. Because, even when something starts out fun and with some meaning, after you do it each and every day, it will loose its luster. It will become boring. And worst of all, it won’t be genuine. It won’t be genuine until the day someone turns to you and yells in desperation,

“I F#$%ING HATE VALENTINE’S DAY!”

2011-12-05T14:52:00.001-08:00

We usually have travel days on Monday, like today.

I realized I like travel days for this one and only reason: I feel like I am moving forward. Which is funny, because if you were to plot all the cities we go to on a map (like someone did last year) you would see that we are just traveling in circles.

And, after only one week of performances down, the feeling of progression couldn’t be more welcomed. Even with a break, it feel as though we haven’t missed a beat with the show. We basically picked up where we left off. We are now on month 10 of the show.

Brent put it pretty well when he said, “I don’t know my mom’s phone number or my parent’s address, but put that music on and I will do exactly the right steps.” Sad or not, this is the truth. So it feels a bit (as in, it feels a lot) like it is back to groundhog’s day.

But let’s stick with the travel for a second. I have learned from last year. Learned from my mistakes, and just learned in general. I have learned to not care which bus I am on (there are two,) who is on my bus (because who cares?) who has saved seats for whom (because no one has for me, so it’s none of my business,) and if I am the first off the bus to check in to the hotel (because, let’s be honest, the hotels aren’t usually gems, so we don’t need to make a mad dash to confirm this.)

Most importantly, I learned to come prepared with DVDs. And this has made my life all the better. Not only do I feel as though I am moving forward in space, but I am moving forward in the Ugly Betty (television show) plot line. Double the false sense of productivity.

There are other things I have learned from last year’s tour. Other things I am incorporating into my tour “re-do.”

For one, I learned that I like some alone time. I like exploring a new city by myself, getting the lay of the land without relying on others, and only having to confer with myself whether I want to go left, right, or straight at the next intersection. So, another goal on tour: having a balance of being with people, and being by myself.

I also learned that it is really stressful to worry if a group of 50 people “like you,” not to mention completely self-centered. I don’t plan on tripping my co-workers on the ice, or purposely stepping on any crew guy’s foot while wearing my skates. I realize that shouldn’t merit likability, but at least I can go to bed knowing I am not evil at heart.

Something else, a small thing, I learned from last year: never check to see if your blades are dull. Guess what? They are. Between skating on poor ice conditions, feathers and sequins, and running around on carpet or the accidental piece of cement, they will become dull. So, not so much a goal as a new rule: I will not check my blades. I will go as long as I can before getting them sharpened, and I am guessing “as long as I can” means skate until I fall 90% of the show.

Hope no one is watching when that day comes.

2011-11-29T04:15:00.001-08:00

My blogging-once-a-week goal is already proving challenging. Internet connections are spotty in our hotels, especially when forty of us are trying to get on the internet at the same time.

So yes, I am already making excuses.

But, moving on. Here is a quick story of what happens over the course of 9 months in small European hotel rooms with a roommate:

Month 1:

Roommate puts on Britney Spears music.

Me: “Oh my god, I love Britney Spears! My boyfriend NEVER plays Britney Spears in the apartment.”

Month 7:

Roommate puts on Britney Spears music.

Me: “If you play that Britney Spears music one more

f%#&ing time...”

This is what happened last year. But it has nothing to do with Britney Spears or my roommate. It has everything to do with 9 months in confined spaces. I trust this time will be different.

Speaking of hotel rooms, Brent had a great idea that we should start the hash tag #thingsIfoundinmyhotelroom. For normal, non-twitter people: “things I found in my hotel room.”

It would be similar to shitmydadsays, which, from what I understand, is one son’s record of all the funny things his father says. It has become so popular that there is now a book (totally recommend this hilarious read) and a television show (don’t know anything about it, sorry.)

And so far, with one hotel down, I found this: a chestnut. It seemed to have rolled from under the bed. I kicked it on my way to the bathroom. And yes, it disturbed me.

Now we are in Basel, Switzerland. I haven’t found any chestnuts, any strong internet connection, nor anything that resembles a decent bed or pillow. But I will be sure to keep you in the loop.

2011-11-22T13:28:00.001-08:00

I am not sure how this happened, but I am back in Germany. Brent and I are back on tour. I gotta be honest; when you do something over 240 times, you aren’t really caring to do it a 245th time. At least not us. But one thing led to another and here we are.

But this time around should be much more manageable. For starters, tour is 4 months long, not 9 months. We are in each city longer than a few days. We are in Berlin for 3 weeks in March! And, here is a biggie: we know what we are getting ourselves into.

We know that there is little privacy. We know that there is unavoidable drama (hoping this will be slightly curbed as both my roommate and partner are “off the market” this time around.) We know there is little sense in not having fun while we are working.

And, if there is anything I have learned these past few months, it is that life is unpredictable, so enjoy what you have while you have it.

Speaking of these past few months-- months during which I have questioned many things--I have made some big decisions. One is this: If I like a song, I will download it from itunes, BUT if I like a whole album (which is more unusual,) I will buy the vinyl.

Huge decision, right? Here is how I came to it: I ran across a lot of CDs while I was going through boxes and cleaning out things. Each time I did, I got surprisingly annoyed. Turns out, CDs are cumbersome and just not very pretty. Records, on the other hand, are kinda artistic. So, some day when I figure out where my home is, I will proudly display a handful of records. Good life decision work, Kim.

This summer I took a “how to blog” writing class and one thing I learned was that you should really blog at least once a week. So, I have some lofty goals for myself this European adventure, round two. In no specific order:

Blog at least once a week

Wish me luck!

2011-09-08T21:33:00.000-07:00

For a gypsy like myself, "home" can be a very confusing concept.

Where am I from? Proudly, Santa Rosa, California. But I haven't lived there for over twelve years.

Where do I live? Right now, in a hotel in Toronto.

Where are my belongings? Well, I have a lot of Ikea furniture in a storage space in Philadelphia, some random skating things in a trunk in the Netherlands, and as of last Tuesday, some summer things and a bike in a storage space in Sun Valley, Idaho.

I am not saying I am homeless. Definitely not. If this hotel I am sitting in were to go out of business tomorrow, I would have lots of places to go.

But if I were a dog and you commanded me to "GO HOME!" I would kindly respond, "Most certainly, but where is that?" (And most likely you wouldn't answer because you would be so excited that a dog could talk...and you definitely would have me repeat myself so that you could tape it for America's Funniest Home Videos, wouldn't you?)

Supposedly "home is where the heart is," right? Well, since technically my heart is in my body, I guess my body is my home. Which just sounds funny. An ex boyfriend once accused me of thinking that my body was my temple, and from that moment on I knew it was a bad thing. So, my body as my home is out of the question.

The address I use as my permanent address is my parent's address, which I guess doesn't exactly mean that that is my home. It more means that I figure the chances of my parents having a house are much better than the chances of me having a house. So far, I have been right.

So, if my home is neither here nor there, nor is it my body (and my body isn't a temple for the record! that's for dumb girls!) maybe my home is right here. Wherever I am.

That works, right?!

A Beautifully Blue & Glittery Highlight from Tour

2011-08-21T20:40:00.000-07:00

Okay, let’s talk about one of my favorite days on tour. My friend Michael just sent me some pictures and it reminded me of this particular day. I want to share both the story and a photo.

My friend Charlene said she wanted to do my make-up before one of the shows. I said great. However, Charlene and I have very different styles and looks. She rocks the glitter and pastel colors like no other. Me, not so much.

Charlene said I couldn’t look until it was all finished.

Well, when it was all finished and I could look, I saw my face, but with Charlene’s make-up. Lots of light blue eye-shadow and lots of glitter. And it just wasn’t quite right.

I looked like a raccoon impersonating a mermaid.

And so I repeated a phrase I came to use often at this point in tour, “Well, I don’t know anyone in France.”

Unfortunately at this same moment, a pile of glitter got into my eye and I began to cry, with just the one eye. I am almost 100% positive that I said, “ Ouch! I got a bunch of glitter in my eye!” Remember that for later.

So, the show starts. I fix the smeared make-up from my one teary eye. I try to ignore my make-up situation during the opening number.

Then I go out for our first solo number, about thirty minutes later. As I approach Brent backstage in our usual meeting spot, I notice something different about him. And as I get closer, I see that he has bright blue eyeshadow and glitter on each eyelid.

He looked like a beautiful drag queen.

He told me that he was trying to make me feel better about my make-up, because I was crying about it. Isn’t that sweet?! Inaccurate (like I said, I am almost certain I said I got glitter in my eye...and I like to point out when Brent is wrong) but totally sweet.

Well, when we got out onto the ice and the spotlight hit Brent’s pretty little face..WOW...I truly realized how much make-up he had on. He looked liked Liza Minnelli.

I first gasped, then got an uncontrollable case of the giggles. All while skating. Brent had to tell me under his breath to keep my “shtuf together!” (except he used a different, more direct word.) I couldn’t look at him the rest of the number. I had to turn my head away, even if my hand was on his face.

So there we were, a beautiful mermaid-impersonating raccoon and even prettier drag queen, avoiding eye-contact during a very long and painful five minute ice skating routine.

Back in the U.S.A

2011-07-24T14:09:00.000-07:00

It has been almost two months since we got off tour and I am just starting to “come to” and reflect back on those very different nine months. Different in a good way, bad way, and everything in between.

Towards the end of tour Joel, Brent, and I talked about the things we wanted to take back home with us. For example, we wanted to take long meals back with us. The ones where you just sit and talk and visit for hours. The waiter rarely comes over and your meal is secondary to your conversation. We also said we would pack “chinning in the eyes,” otherwise known as clinking glasses and looking each person in the eye before taking your first sip of wine. Our friend Charlene was ADAMANT about this. I now love this and feel I cannot have a sip of wine without first chinning in the eyes. I guess this applies to other things, like water, but I wouldn’t now anything of that.

So, these things I packed in my big suitcase when I returned to the states, and have been trying my best to infuse them into my life here.

Little did I know that there would be so many other things that would follow me back home, or would change me for the better because of “tour.” I guess some good things snuck their way into my suitcase without me knowing.

First, my perception of space has been altered severely, and for the better. My room in my summer digs in Sun Valley is HUGE and the condo itself is a mansion. My “roommate” is really my mansion-mate and although our rooms are next door to each other, in my mind she lives waaaaay down the mansion hall. My bed looks like it could fit at least three people in it. And my bathroom! I have it all to myself.

Second, I have for the first time in my life wanted to cook. I have gotten really into cooking, or so I think. It’s all relative. Instead of opening a can of kidney beans and digging into it with a spoon, I dump the kidney beans into a pan, add some vegetables and a spice or two and stir fry them up. Fancy pants!

Also, I think I have become a way better traveller. I recently had to take a quick trip and the first thing I did when I checked into my hotel was ask for a map. That was the way on tour- check in, get your key, get a map, and ask where the nearest laundry mat was. Cool thing, on this particular recent trip the washer and dryer was in my hotel room. Can you imagine?! It nearly brought tears to my eyes (even though I had no laundry to do.) Anyways, with my map easily accessible, I did my practiced European stroll. Turn my ipod on, stick my ear buds in, pick a good landmark to come back to (my version of leaving crumbs; bread crumbs would seem a bit antiquated in conjunction with the ipod playing and all) and get good old lost.

But wow, I have become a chatterbox. I guess I have missed conversing with everyday “strangers”.... like cashiers, baristas, anyone I would have otherwise faked mute to back in Europe. I take every opportunity to start up a conversation and I am fairly certain I have become annoying to the folks of Sun Valley.

And, for anyone worried, my vocabulary has slowly grown back. I can speak in the present tense, past tense, and future tense pretty easily and I incorporate multiple syllable words into my speech more frequently.

Skating wise, Brent and I have become better performers. We have also become better workers on the ice. We spend more time skating and less time analyzing. Maybe because in the 240 shows we did on tour (sadly that number is not an exaggeration) we came to learn that things almost never feel perfect.

Here are the less positives from tour:

Living with the same group of people for nine months is REALLY HARD. It feels like every bad reality show wrapped into one. There are elements of Big Brother, Survivor, The Bachelor, Celebrity Apprentice, etc... Sometimes it feels like just plain bad TV. Like episodes of shows you’d find on the CW (no offensive, CW.) There is no need to have contact with the outside world, yet there is zero privacy. There is no room to vent. You whisper in your hotel room, knowing the walls are thin and you are still surrounded by the same 40 people. And you turn crazy. It just happens. It is fact. You get passionate about things you actually have little interest or care in. You find yourself in heated conversations about who is or is not the boy monkey in the show.

Also, doing the same thing 240 times is pretty bizarre. I started to feel confused....like, “I did this already. A lot. When do I get to cross this off my list of things to do this week?” I think once I even wrote an email in my head while we were skating. That may have been one of my more productive moments on the ice.

And then some really small but negative things that I have found out about myself, or my homeland:

I have become someone who starts sentences with “On tour...” This bugs me.

I never realized how expensive wine is here. It makes me really sad. No joke. I am very disheartened by this.

It is true- compared to Europeans, and in particular the French, we dress like bums here in the USA. Ugh. The French are just so cool.

Fears

2011-05-21T14:12:00.000-07:00

The tour will end in a week (what?! It ISN’T never-ending?!) and with this reality comes a whole set of fears.

I am worried about what will happen when I return home, wherever that may be.

For example, when I wake up in the mornings, will I immediately-- without knowing--walk down, up, or across to the ground floor of wherever I am and look for the free breakfast? Will my stomach yearn for a baguette, butter and instant coffee (the staples of a nutritious breakfast)?

Will I be very interested in stealing food, hiding slices of cheese or green apples in my purse and jacket pockets, to save a little money and gain a little lunch?

Will I continue to believe that I am invisible and inaudible and not censor my language, lower my volume, or keep from pointing because I am confident that no one knows what I am saying or doing?

Will I understand that it may be less excusable to wear the same clothes three days in a row or realize that discovering new ways to layer the same few articles of clothing may not be looked upon with admiration?

And a big one- Will I know how to speak English?

Like many other cast members I had grandiose ideas of learning French on tour (oddly none of us thought much of learning German.) Yet sadly it turns out that learning French in such an international setting (that being the show) is pretty hard. Not only that, but keeping up with proper English is equally difficult. Broken English is the show speak.

It is for that that I say me, and propose at you, can I will to speak English when I arrive home? I write now some common show speak/things I learn from my friends of the show:

It’s for that (Because of that)

I say me (I said to myself)

Do you laugh of me? (Are you laughing at me?)

Are you killing me? ( Are you kidding me?)

Take one glass (Get a drink)

Up up (a little buzzed)

Up up up (drunk)

Up up up up (full on drunk)

I propose at you (I suggest)

Full Power! (100% effort)

Yeeeep! (a sound effect that describes anything and everything. “I woke up to my alarm going ‘Yep, yep, yep!’ and I was like, ‘Yep.” Then I brushed my teeth and my toothbrush was like ‘Yeeeeep.’”)

For sure...followed by anything. (For sure we can skate after the show. For sure the soup today is mushroom soup.)

Baracks Obama (Barack Obama)

Thanks God (Thank God)

I refuse! (No thank you)

Green hair (Grass)

Little red boy (Santa Claus)

What do you prefer? (What would you like to do?)

Toes (Teeth)

Teeth (Toes)

What day are we? (What day is it?)

So, it’s for that that I worry.

Night Out In Nancy

2011-05-16T10:55:00.000-07:00

Night Out In Nancy

I had one of my favorite nights on tour last night. There was just a small group of us (Brent, Charlene, Marie, and myself) in a pretty empty dance club. This is one of my favorite scenarios: fun people, good music, plenty of dance floor.

There was a young looking guy named Patrick, maybe nineteen or twenty years old, with two friends. He was very friendly and asked us where we were from. We asked him what he was currently doing in Nancy, and he told us that he was a student.

I asked him, “Oh what do you study?”

He replied, “It is hard to explain. Hmmm, I study electricity.”

Brent then chimed in excitedly, “Do you know Benjamin Franklin?!”

The boy looked a bit confused, said something I couldn’t quite hear, and then answered, “Yes.”

Brent then yelled, “He invented electricity!” and pumped his fist.

Charlene, who is French, stepped away and went to a bar stool. She stood there trying to compose herself, stifling laughs and wiping tears from her eyes. Marie and I figured she was just embarrassed, but of French people, American people, or boys, we did not know.

Well, it turns out that there is a popular children’s television show that has a turtle character named Franklin. What our new friend Patrick had said when Brent asked, “Do you know Benjamin Franklin?” was “Franklin the tortue?”

The equivalent to this scene “back home” I imagine goes something like this:

You are at a local bar on a quiet Sunday night and you see a group of French people. You want to practice your French a little so you go over and ask the group where they are from, etc. They ask you what you are doing in the town you are in and after you say you are a student, they ask what you are studying.

You are studying aerospace engineering, but that is a bit hard to explain so you reply, “Space.”

Then a really excited French guy lights up and says, “Do you know Dora the Explorer?!”

And you are like, “Yeaaaah.”

And he yells, “She invented the space shuttle!” as he high fives someone next to him.

Checking In

2011-04-19T06:49:00.001-07:00

Checking in.

It has been 8 months. And it feels like it. People are tired, physically and emotionally.

Me included. My new favorite thing is to lie on the floor, face down, arms and legs stretched away in the shape of an “X.” I figured this is for a few reasons, and these reasons shed some light on my feelings at this point on tour. First, I think I want to give someone a hug, mainly because I really want one myself. But instead of hugging someone, I just hug the floor. Or, as I like to tell my dressing roommates, “I look around and cannot find a single one of you that I want to hug.” Second, as our hotel rooms continue to shrink in size my desire for some space grows and therefore I like the idea of taking up as much room as possible (even if it is that of a dirty floor.)

I am not crazy (or if I am it is not for the above.) Others have adopted their own thing.

Jane has started assigning family roles to different cast members. For example, sometimes she calls me “Mom” as in, “Can I barrow some hairspray, Mom?” And sometimes she refers to Joel as “Grandpa” as in, “Grandpa is cranky today.” She was happy to report that she psychoanalyzed herself and realized that she missed her family. Fair enough.

There is no way around it- this job feels very repetitive. Or more so, it is repetitive. The same steps, the same outfits, the same music, the same order of things you do in the show, etc. Like that movie Groundhog’s Day.

My mom told me recently, “You know, I was thinking about this. Since I saw you last [in February] you have been doing that same show, over and over again.” What she was getting at is that while she was at the grocery store, I was doing the show, while she was driving to Oakland to see my new niece, I was doing the show, and when she was watching my (not so) little brother play baseball, I was doing the show. While she was busy not doing the same thing every day, I was.

This is all exaggerated by the fact that we are in our third “split-city” week. That means we play two cities in one week, with one day of travel and no true days off. And we unpack and pack up twice a week. I cannot even keep track of the things I have lost these past two weeks (a bar of soap here, a pair of socks there, a piece of the sanity somewhere.)

I turned to a friend, a veteran show skater, who has been in these shoes/skates before-- hi Cindy!-- and she knew exactly what I was talking about. First year tour is always the longest, and seemingly never-ending. She gave some good advice, a virtual shoulder to cry on, and a little something to look forward to- resilience. She said once I return home, I will be amazed at my resilience.

That is, if I don’t accidentally forget it in Saint-Etienne.

Side Trips

2011-03-31T14:24:00.000-07:00

The number one perk to this “backpacking through Europe” year is, well... Europe. JR, you are right, it is much harder to get the full effect when in Sacramento. Hi Molly!

Show director and choreographer, Karen Kresge, told us (Brent and me) during the beginning of this tour- “don’t let the show get in the way of your experience.” Ah, such words of wisdom. Although there are some definite responsibilities Brent and I have to fulfill within the show, we have some responsibility outside of the show to see as much of Europe as possible. We wouldn’t want to upset Karen.

Enter “side trips.”

The first side trip came impulsively, in more of a problem solving scenario. It was way back in Grefrath, Germany, our third official “city” on tour. And I say “city” instead of city because, well, I am sure there are some criteria that a geographical place must meet to be called a city that I doubt Grefrath meets. Sorry Grefrath.

As our tour bus pulled up to the hotel, Laurent turned to me and asked, “Do you think we could rent a car and go somewhere?” Because, it seemed, we were nowhere.

And that is how we--Laurent, Michael, Charlene, Brent, his whiskey flask, and I--found ourselves in Cologne, Germany the next day. We went to what was the Philly gang’s (that would be me, Brent, and Michael) first ever Christmas market (amazing!) and stayed in a five-star hotel for super cheap (thanks Michael, Priceline.com, and Brent and flask, who both slept on the floor.)

The next side trip occurred between cities number four and five (Dortmund and Rostock....notice no apostrophes) This trip was planned ahead of time by Brent, and planned pretty perfectly. A good friend, choreographer, and just one of those people you want to be around all the time-- Stephanee Grosscup-- was choreographing an ice show at the Autostadt in Wolfsburg, a city that lies almost evenly between Dortmund and Rostock. Easy. And it would be Stephanee’s birthday and there was a chance we would stay at the the Ritz Carlton. Well, we had to go.

So that is how, or more why, we-- Michael, Brent, Fatima, Dear Joel Dear, and I-- ended up at the VW Autostadt, picking out our favorite cars in all museums, taking ridiculous photos, watching a skating cyclopes run into a palm tree, “frolicking” in a heated outdoor pool, enjoying both a chakra sauna and regular sauna, drinking out of enormous wine glasses, and hearing “Tales from Burning Man,” by Stephanne Grosscup.

While walking around city number nine, Hannover, Michael noted that Berlin wasn’t too far by train. Deciding that he didn’t want to go back home (U.S. home, not hotel home) without having been to Berlin he asked, “You want to go to Berlin tomorrow?”

And that is how Michael and I ended up seeing Berlin, checking out Egyptian art at the Neues Museum, grabbing a drink and playing a little piano in a fancy hotel, taking our time at a nice Italian restaurant and.....oops....missing the last train back to Hannover.

And that is how Michael and I ended up staying at a Holiday Inn Express in Berlin, sleeping in our clothes, getting ready early (easy when your clothes are already on!) seeing some of the Berlin Wall and checking out the Checkpoint Charlie Museum.

The next side trip was once again a planned one, by travel agent Bommentre. Although city number eleven was Cologne, we were staying in Dusseldorf (another reason I am grateful for the earlier side trip to Cologne.) Brent figured out that Dusseldorf was a little over two hours from Utrecht, the Netherlands. Another good friend, talented choreographer, and person who makes you want to break out in song and dance--Doug Webster--would be in Utrecht working on a skating television show. Yes, we had spent many weeks in Utrecht during rehearsals, but we had never done Utrecht with Doug Webster. We had to go back.

So that is how we-- Brent, Erik, AJ, Lucy, and I-- ended up in Utrecht, eating about twenty five too many tapas, drinking about three too many glasses of wine (okay, huge underestimate,) and eventually breaking into ice skating choreography on the streets of Utrecht. Thanks for taping all four minutes of that disaster, Erik. Proudest moment that I don’t remember.

Since then I have also ventured to Brussels with Charlene and Michael, seen good friend Natalia Zaitseva skate in Disney On Ice in Rouen, France, visited Mark in Dijon, and visited Bordeaux with Mark (highlight- St. Emilion.) Always about the wine isn’t it Mark? That better be a promise.

Most recently--as in these past few days--Brent, Joel, Michael, Brian, Jane and I celebrated our last four days off in a row with a side trip to Italy. We stayed in the cutest smallest town and felt like we had the place all to ourselves. We tasted Borolos and Barberas in Barolo. We had an amazing meal; the kind where you don’t order off the menu but tell the chef (“crazy” Nino) what you like and dislike, because that is how he likes to do things, and he has just sat down in the chair next to you. And you might be just a bit scared of him.

And the grand finale to what will be the last side trip for a few weeks was a breath-taking drive through the snow capped alps. Absolutely incredibly and completely worth the million euro toll.

Next up: side trip to Braux, France for a house party. Come on Mark, Sarah, Daphne, JR and Molly-- let’s put the above stories to shame!

Things I Have Lost Along the Way

2011-03-07T08:38:00.000-08:00

Every week it is the same thing. We have to pack up our stuff into two suitcases (one large, one small) and each week it proves challenging. I feel like its natural to accumulate things over time, but we try our best not to on tour. There is just no room for a bunch of shtuff.

Luckily, I have lost a number of things along the way. Some intentionally, some accidentally.

I can easily remember the first item I lost because it continues to perplex me- Pajama pants. And I lost them mid-week. Tuesday they were in the hotel, Wednesday they were no longer. They were dark blue with small white polk-a-dots. Capri length. Please let me know if you see them anywhere.

Other things I have accidentally left behind: slippers, cord for an Ipod, a sweater, dishwashing soap, a loofa.

Then there are the things I left behind intentionally. Two Tupperware containers(Paris,) a broken purse (also Paris) an old make-up bag (Nantes,) a pair of skating tights (Nantes again,) and an exfoliating sponge (Toulouse.)

And there are the things--more specifically the thing-- I have left behind (twice!) on accident and have been recovered by someone else. My Ipod. Once I left it on the tour bus and once in the hotel room. Thank you Allister and thank you “eye-candy” roommate Michael for its recovery.

To all these things that have ended their European travels abruptly, I want to say sorry and I hope you enjoy your new home. It just wasn’t meant to be that you continued tour any longer.

Then there are some things that I expect will literally disintegrate into nothingness before I make it back to the states. My jeans, for example. When I bought them, they had no holes. That was not their style. Yet through daily wearing and bi-weekly washing I have noticed the fabric thinning and my skin peeking through. And that is just to mention my left pant leg. My right leg has a massive hole from an incident while trying on shoes. While in Paris, I saw some cool-looking shoes, tried them on, and when I went to pull up my right pant leg to get a better view, my finger nails went right through my pants. Just right through them! And I don’t have particularly long nails. I left the store with zero pairs of cool shoes and one new hole in my jeans.

But this tour is an excellent opportunity to feng-shui my life. And yes, I like to just toss around terms that I don’t know much about. I “feng-shuied” my life once prior to this point in time, before I moved to Philadelphia. I broke up with my then boyfriend, got rid of my apartment, and got my life down to two duffle bags. In retrospect, I may have been thinking too much big picture. This time around, I can start small. How many forks, spoons, or knifes do I really need? Turns out, just one of each, and I can get them all in one combo camping knife.

My mom sent me an article about a couple who got their life down to 100 things. 100 items. I guess this “100 Items Challenge” became pretty popular a few years back. It is embedded in the idea that material things do not lead to happiness. This article (from the New York Times, check it out!) talked about how research shows that life experiences lead to happiness more in the long-run.

So, me being me, constantly fascinated by what leads to happiness, I am thinking I am on the right track. One combo camping knife, a pair of jeans that will disintegrate before the end of tour, and a ton of stories.

And now off to enjoy Marseille, France!

January Nerves

2011-01-27T05:08:00.000-08:00

It’s funny. Even though I am far away from the competitive world, I can just feel that Nationals is close by. I think my body has been programmed to get really nervous around mid-January.

I haven’t kept up much with the going-ons in the competitive world. However, the other day those mid-January nerves began to kick in and I found myself online, researching the world of competitive skating 2011.

Somehow I found my way to a site where people were predicting upcoming results, or analyzing past competitions or programs or teams.

And something struck a nerve. I totally absolutely understand the desire for people to express their opinions about something they are not involved in first-hand. It is along the same lines as reading a tabloid and then discussing the spilt of Sandra Bullock and Jesse James (who, by the way, is getting married to Kat Von D? what?! :> ) And, I get people guessing the outcome of an upcoming competition. I have heard of that thing called betting.

But what makes me laugh is the questioning of choices. Choices of choreographers, music, costumes, or even lifts.

To answer those questions, I think we should focus on the basic idea that people make choices because, well, they thought it was a good- nah, the best!- choice.

I remember Tanith (Belbin) saying “it wasn’t for a lack of effort on anyone’s part” that they did not have the result outcome that they had hoped for or expected at a competition some years ago. It is such a simple things to state -- everyone involved tried their best-- yet you feel you must make it clear.

So, just to be clear, I have never, on purpose, made a bad choice. I have always thought it was a good-- nah, the best!-- choice. But, alas, sometimes I am just a dumb ass.

Okay, so this venture into the online competitive skating world got my wheels turning. I started to do a compare and contrast of the competitive skating world and the show skating world. Wait. Clarification: The competitive skating world and the show skating world, relative to me. Of course.

One of the most drastic changes has been the fact that in the show world, not every performance is special . During a competitive season you really only get to perform a handful of times, and each time you do it feels pretty important. And Brent and I always did a good job making each program feel special in that moment. Well, now that we perform multiple times a week, it is a bit different. A few shows feel good, a few bad, and most just right in the middle. As Jillian, a show veteran in our cast, would say, “Just another day at the office!” I swear I skated out there sometime last week and thought, “what are all these people doing here? It is just a Sunday afternoon in Cologne. I wish they would stop looking at me. I am kind of tired.” Whereas before, during a competition, I knew why they were looking at me- I was competing at THE U.S. FIGURE SKATING CHAMPIONSHIP! (best said in a booming, echoing voice like a movie trailer voice-over) and that only happened once a year and was pretty damn important!

Which leads to me to note that the level of mental stress for us has definitely lessened. This has been a welcomed change. Though that is not to say that there is not a set of stresses in the show world, but they come more in the form of challenges. For example, the ice size changes from city to city, and I am told in France we will see the smallest ice imaginable. Or the ice condition is just plain bad. Or there is giant hole downstage, right where you do three big tricks. Or there are two pink feathers where you do a lift. Or there is a giant fountain in the middle of the ice during your number. Or your heel splits mid-show and you have to go into another pair of skaters for the second half of the show. All challenges, often annoying, but definitely less stressful.

And I guess that “annoying” feeling comes with the territory, considering that this is a job now. Jobs can be just that- annoying. As much as I tried to put it off, that is a lesson I must learn as I approach my thirties (how embarrassing!) But the great thing is now I have a license to complain, just like a grown-up. “Argh! I am so annoyed at my job!” I didn’t really earn that right while competing. It just makes no sense to say “Argh! I am so annoyed at this thing I pay to do” or better yet, “Argh! I am so annoyed at this thing that my closest friends and family help me pay to do!”

The coolest thing about being in this show world, having a job and having some income, has nothing to do with skating at all. It is the fact that I can help fund my boyfriend through wine business school, which he found when Brent and I were offered the Holiday On Ice contract. So, Mark is living in Dijon, France, pursuing something he has been passionate about long before moving to Philadelphia to work as an accountant and help pay his girlfriend’s rent.

It feels really good to help someone pursue their passion. And Mark has been really grateful for the support. Having previously been on the other side of the coin for so long, I hope I have been as grateful.

If you are reading this, chances are you deserve another big THANK YOU. Hope you know that I am “paying it forward” as the saying goes, and we should all share some good wine together under Mark’s tutelage. Prost!

Laundry

2011-01-08T14:57:00.000-08:00

It’s the small things that prove difficult here on tour. One such thing- laundry.

There has never been a laundry mat just next door or across the street from any given hotel. The only time there was one nearby was during our stay in Utrecht, where we were rehearsing for five weeks. I had no idea how good we had it then.

I have gotten into an every two weeks schedule. It takes me about two weeks to have a desperate need to do laundry. Which is crazy because when I fill a bag with all my dirty clothes it just looks like the saddest smallest bag. It is mind-boggling that I can’t get on comfortably with my life without first getting this small bag of clothing clean. Yet this small bag makes up for at least 50% of my wardrobe. Sigh.

So, every two weeks, also known as “every other city”, I trek around Germany with a few skaters and a small bag of dirty clothes. In Bremen the laundry mat was four tram stops away, in Dortmund we walked twenty five minutes, in Erfurt we walked ten minutes (in the snow, backwards and barefoot!) and then took the tram for ten minutes. The journey is always an adventure, filled with self-doubt (“are we sure we are going the right way?”) and that is after the entirely different adventure of asking for directions to a “waschsalon” at the hotel reception.

Essen was the next city in which I had a few things to wash, and I was so excited and impressed that the hotel already had directions to a few laundry mats printed out! Surely this would be one of the easier laundry days on tour.

Right after we checked in to our hotel (Ypsilon Best Western) Charlene and I headed out to the closer of the two laundry mats. We followed the directions without any problems and ended up at “Clarissa Steeger “ about fifteen minutes later. It was a strange looking laundry mat. It looked more like an apartment. The door was closed, so we rang some doorbells but nothing happen. We looked at a small German sign with some times on it and figured out that the laundry mat had closed at 2pm, but opened the next day at 10am. Okay, not a huge problem. The next day was another day off, and we would just return to Clarissa Steeger after breakfast.

Day two. After breakfast Charlene and I acquired two more skaters, Michael and AJ, and together we set off to Clarissa Steeger with four small bags of dirty laundry. Again, fifteen minute walk to strange looking laundry mat. This time the door was open. We walked in only to find a group of Germans washing restaurant linens in some kind of big washing machine. They looked at the four of us questioning and after a quick game of charades pointed us in the direction of a laundry mat.

Because we were embarrassed, we just nodded, said thank you, and walked off into the direction we were pointed. Of course after only a few blocks down the road we assessed that none of us had a clue as to where we were heading, where we needed to go, or if in fact the Germans washing the restaurant linens had pointed us towards a laundry mat.

This is when we decided that postmen and grocery clerks were our “go to” for information. Each person we saw delivering mail (oddly we did see two in the course of three blocks,) we would ask “do.. .you...know...where...a....laundry. ...mat.....uh....waschsalon....is?” because you know, when you ask a question in English s l o w l y, it magically turns into German.

When that didn’t work, AJ--who is actually an actor in LA when not on tour--went into the grocery store and acted out “washing clothes” to the clerk, which looked more like “I am really itchy,” but he must have done something right because the clerk tried to sell him some laundry detergent.

Since laundry detergent wouldn’t solve all our problems, we decided to consult the hotel print-out. The first laundry mat listed was a bust, but the second one would have to exist, right? So we began asking for directions to “Klarastrasse,” where the second laundry mat was located.

Of course finding the street was nothing short of difficult. We walked pass it at least once and at some point figured out we had made almost a complete circle from where we started (the Ypsilon Best Western.)

Finally finally finally we found Klarastrasse with the help of an English speaking German woman who recognized four foreign faces in distress. We followed Klarastasse to the address listed on our trusty hotel print-out.

It was a dry-cleaner.

So, we were getting warmer.

We asked where the $#%^ a laundry mat was (but in a much nicer, more charade-like way) and got directions to a whole new place. A location not listed on our hotel print-out, which at this point felt like a really good sign.

We walked and walked and looked and walked...and then, we saw it.

“30,40, 60” laundry mat! There was even a painting of a laundry basket on the window.

Charlene, AJ, Michael, and I ran across the street (in the snow!) Ran across the street and right up to the glass door.

Only to see...

two repair men pulling the washing machines out of the wall.

The laundry mat would be closed for two days for repairs.

WHAT?! This was the one true laundry mat we came across in our hour and a half scavenger hunt. How could it be closed?!

After we surrendered to the laundry gods (for what, we do not know) falling into a heap of tears and dirty snow, we walked with heads hanging to find a cab back to the hotel. We had no idea where we were at this point, but knew laundry was not a possibility.

At the intersection I decided to part with the group to find an internet “surfstick.” Internet is another small thing that proves incredibly difficult on tour. So, the remaining three said they would take my bag of dirty clothes back to the hotel for me.

On my walk to the O2 store my phone rang. It was Michael saying they just told the cab driver to take them to a laundry mat, so they had no idea where they were going, but they would wash my clothes for me.

So, yes. Essen was my easiest laundry day on tour so far.

Thanks guys.

Backpacking through Europe

2010-12-14T04:42:00.000-08:00

Because I am embarking on another good old life transition--transition out of competitive skating, transition into my thirties--this new adventure has already felt like a bipolar roller coaster. One day I am up, one day I am down, and many days I am “up up up” (which is what my new French friend Charlene calls being drunk.) But I am just kidding about that, Mom and Dad.

When I think about choosing not to compete anymore, I feel content. When I think about doing what I am doing now for a large chunk of my life, I feel hesitant. I know where I am not supposed to be, but not quite sure where I am supposed to be now. Make sense? It’s okay if not. I am going somewhere with this that is far less confusing. Promise.

Because I am unsure if I have found the perfect fit, the idea of committing to this tour life for years on end is overwhelming. BUT when I think of this as my backpacking through Europe year, it feels pretty perfect.

A lot of college-aged kids do that backpacking through Europe thing or a semester or two studying abroad. Because of training, that is an experience a lot competitive skaters miss out on, including myself.

Well now I get to have that experience, but on a pretty cushy level. Which is weird to say because things like our accommodations are not cushy in the least. BUT if I were backpacking through Europe, they would be! See how that works? If you look at your life through the “I am backpacking through Europe lens,” everything looks a lot nicer. Try it sometime.

So far I have visited Utrecht and Amsterdam in the Netherlands, and Offenburg, Hamburg, Bremen, Grefrath, Dortmund, and Rostock in Germany. Right now I am en route to Erfurt. On a bus! Cushy for a backpacker, right? And I didn’t have to arrange the bus, pay for the bus, or transfer to another bus.

Also, I don’t actually have to carry a backpack as I backpack through Europe. I have two Samsonite rolling bags. One big, one little. And they are the kind that have four wheels and can roll different directions. Fancy!

What else? Oh yes, I get to wear a lot of makeup and glitter as I backpack through Europe. And fake eyelashes. Who gets to do that while trekking through Europe? Me. It’s my job!

Speaking of which, I have a job while backpacking through Europe. That is pretty cool too. And you know what my job entails? People clapping for me. Yep, that’s right- people clap for me as I backpack through Europe.

Okay, maybe I glossed over the skating part, but it is true. This job makes people feel obligated to clap. Regardless of opinion, at the end of the show people are going to clap. They just will. So, in my head, I get paid to make people clap for me. And I feel pretty lucky about that. If I worked at a bank I am pretty sure no one would clap for me when I deposited their check.

One of our coaches, Cheryl , was trying to explain the novelty of this as we prepared for the World Championships last March. Because we knew World’s would be our final competition, she really wanted us to appreciate the experience. She told us how lucky we were to get to stand out on that ice and have so many people clap for us. She told us how no one clapped for her when she made a nice dinner for her family. And she told us that World’s would be one of our last opportunities to experience this.

I thought about that a few cities back, on Thanksgiving day. Brent and I have this moment backstage, each show, where we wonder “what have we done with our lives?!” It is right after we have done the running-man with some pigs and monkeys on the ice, and before we go do our program dressed as snakes. It is a moment filled with sadness and humor, both which were magnified when Brent grabbed my hands and said, “Hey. Happy Thanksgiving.” Anyways, I thought about Cheryl’s words. How we wouldn’t have the opportunity to stand on the ice and receive applause much longer. Little did Cheryl know that it would become our new job--to make people clap for us--alongside pigs and monkeys. Egg on your face much Cheryl?! ;>

The beginning

2010-12-02T03:01:00.000-08:00

Since I think that just may have worked...let’s get started!

Where do I being?

Okay, to catch you up to speed, in our fifth season of competitive skating, Brent and I realized we had had our fill. Fill of competitive ice dancing I should say. I wanted to perform, he wanted to see the world, and we wanted to keep skating together. So when we were offered the opportunity to perform in a professional skating show that would tour throughout Europe, it seemed like a good fit. Oh yeah, and we would get paid. That helped.

And having “blogged” (ugh, I hate that word) before at skating competitions, I know that although typing out these experiences is a pain in the ass, it is a record of something I will surely forget. Not because these experiences are not memorable, but because I will get old. Therefore forgetting.

So I told myself I would “blog” (ugh) about this new adventure. And more so I told other people I would. And two months after arriving in Europe, guilt has gotten the best of me.

I have a friend--true story!-- who finds the word “sequin” very funny. He thinks it sounds more like a form of measurement than something used to make a skating costume sparkle. He has decided that a sequin is “an SI unit (system international)” and the equation is as follows:

10^6 sequins = 1 megasequin

10^-6 sequins = 1 microsequin

*a sequin is one unit of fabulousness

And thus we have MegaSequin, the blog! (ugh)

Does this thing even work?!

2010-11-24T03:56:00.000-08:00

I am only going to put about 7% into this post. This will be my second attempt at creating a blog and my pessimism is running high.

So, I ask, can you hear me?