Ich spreche kein Duetsch

The biggest sections of the grocery store by my new house are the chocolate section and the booze section. The sausage section comes in a close 3rd. I love it here.

When I was learning German before I left(by Rosetta Stone, which is awesome) I was a bit dumbfounded by the randomness of the words I was being taught. Sink=Spulbecken (not responsible for misspellings in German). When would I have to use the word for sink?

When I have to ask if it's safe to drink the water from the sink, of course, which I happily turned to my roommate and said yesterday, hardly able to keep myself from jumping up and down with pride when I said it. “Can I drink the water from the sink? Does it taste good?” FUCK YES! I speak German so awesome!

“What is your name, man selling produce?” “Where is my mat, stage manager?” “See you tomorrow, people in the cast!” “How much does swimming cost, pool boy?” “I'm sorry, I don't speak German, lady slicing my bread at the bakery.”

I can't understand a word anyone says back to me unless it's a number up to 50. That's when that last sentence comes, quickly, regretfully, apologetically, into the conversation. If someone said, “The boy has red hair” or “The man washes the car” I'd be on it, but sadly, in real life, no one really speaks in the present tense. It's all “I did this” or “I'm going to do that”. I'm all in the moment, all the time in Germany. I'm a now person, damn it! The rest of you are just pining for the past or wishing for the future, but I AM wearing socks and I AM reading a book and I AM learning German RIGHT FREAKING NOW!

So, boo-ya, Bensheim! Behold my powers of the present. I might not speak German at all, but at least I'm not doing it RIGHT NOW.

Debut

12/3/09

I'm five hours away from my first show in Europe. (Unless you count a “gala” I did for Air France in the Bristol Airport where I did some cheerleading/partner acro, or circus school shows. I don't.) I should probably play my cards a bit closer to my chest on this one, but I just can't. I'm freaking out. The most nervous I've ever been must have been before my show at Moisture Festival, when I thought the casting director for Zin Zanni was in the house. It's the only time I thought I would puke from nerves. I didn't puke, and the casting director wasn't in the house, but the casting director from Pegasus Variete was, and here I am in Germany! Whew.

Essentially, this is where my rope act began. When Nils and I went to Germany and Spain forever many years ago, I packed a rope. I wasn't particularly in love with rope at the time, but I was for sure not into tissu, so rope was the next most portable thing. Apart from hanging it from Nils' mom's balcony in Barcelona I didn't really get on it until we were in Berlin and I found Katakomben. It was a great place to train on a very terrible rope—it felt like it was made of sandpaper, rocks and razor blades. However, so am I, so I smashed my teeth together and started piecing together bits of what is now my act. Berlin was the first place I started throwing my back flip off the rope. Back then I was trying to re-catch it. Eventually, I grew to like just landing on my feet. It would be nice to learn a catch, though.

I applied this act to a zillion festivals and either heard nothing, or got rejections from all of them. I didn't give a shit, though, because before those letters started coming in, I'd gotten this contract. Somebody thought I was good! Everyone else could eat me.

So, it's with that in the back of my mind that I try to calm my nerves today. “They asked me to come here”. “They already like my act.” “I just have to do it how I've done it a million times.” Okay, so that's working now, with 4 hours to go. I'm sure in about 3 hours 45 min, I'll be holding back the vom.