A Beautifully Blue & Glittery Highlight from Tour

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!