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.

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!

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

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.