Saturday, January 8, 2011

Laundry

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.

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Backpacking through Europe

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?! ;>

Thursday, December 2, 2010

The beginning

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)

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Does this thing even work?!

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?