Traveling: Brugge, Belgium

Why, oh why did I leave Italy??

Yesterday I flew from Rome to Amsterdam, then took a train from Amsterdam to Brugge, switching trains in Antwerpen. I was ready, I knew what I was doing, where I was going, and how I was getting there. And I was excited to get back to the land of clear schedules and punctual trains. Or so I thought....

My train from Amsterdam to Antwerpen had some minor malfunctions, so we were running late. Instead of the allotted 21 minutes to change trains, I had 3. No problem - I made it from track 24 to track 3 with one minute to spare. Then about halfway into the final leg to Brugge, the train stopped at a station in Gent, and didn't move for 45 min. Now when this happens in Italy, I think there's a problem. When it happens in Belgium I think there must be a scheduling reason. Turns out there wasn't. The train finally starts up and we make it past one more station and are on our way to the next when the train dies again. Now we wait again. And we wait. And we wait. Then finally the train starts moving again. Back into the direction from which we have come. No joke. Everyone on the train starts muttering and sighing, having no idea what is happening. Then, as if by magic, we end up at the next station. Coming from the wrong direction. And then we continue moving in the wrong direction - all the way to Brugge. Strange.

Now, instead of arriving at 8.40p, I arrive at 10.30p And of course by the time I walk to my hotel, reception is shut for the evening with a note on the door with a phone number - which I have no way of calling as 1. I've suspended my cell service, 2. I arrived too late to buy any kind of phone card, and 3. the pay phones don't take coins anymore. But wait, there is a couple who is staying in the hotel walking up the stairs, so I ask if I could use their phone to call reception. And the woman says, "Oh sorry, I don't have my phone on me." And they keep walking. What?? Really??

So I leave my luggage behind a door in the lobby, and head back toward the station, thinking I'll take a cab and have the driver call reception for me. When I get back to the station, the taxi driver says yes of course, he'll take me to the hotel, but no, absolutely not, he will not call reception for me. I wish I was making this up.....

I walk into the station, past the drunks pulling up a chair for the night, and see a woman about my age. I explain my situation, and she makes the call for me, tells the hotel I will be back in 10 minutes, and wishes me a good trip in Belgium.

Now of course I had had to use the bathroom for about 2 hours. So when I got back to the hotel, and still saw no one at reception, I wandered up the stairs, thankfully found an open room, and used the bathroom. I was also thinking that if no one showed up, I would crash in this room, and deal with it in the morning. At least I would have a bed.

Soon after I went back downstairs, the guy at reception showed up, told me my room was the very one I had just been in, and I was done for the night.

Or so I thought.

When I got to the room, I shut the window and got ready for bed. Then I noticed an awful smell coming from the shower room (the toilet and shower were in two different rooms), which reminded me of the time when a small animal died under the floor in my apartment. I then realized this was the reason for the open window. I tried to close off the smell, because I had no desire to sleep with the window open, but a few hours later, I gave in. I put on my scarf, opened the window, and slept.

Thankfully, I got a new room this morning, but only until Friday, as the hotel is full booked. They are hoping to solve the problem by then so I can move back into my room for my final night in Belgium. Fingers crossed, everyone. And hopefully tomorrow it won't be raining....

All of this for William Forsythe tonight. And Xavier Le Roy tomorrow. And Jerome Bel on Friday.

When I think about it, I really haven't had ANY problems since I arrived in Europe in mid-Sept. It's just too bad that all the accrued trouble decided to surface at the same time. Que sera sera. Quel che sucede sucede.

I refuse to be grumpy.

Final Performances

On Saturday, 5 December, Lenka and I set out for Pissignano Alto, in Campello sul Clitunno, where we would set up for a performance in a beautiful old church, the ex Chiesa di San Benedetto. Our contact for this show was an American woman named Ann Wood, who moved to Italy in the 70s with her husband, bought the church in 1977, was a teacher here for decades, then upon retirement (I think) founded an organization called La Fortezza. She hosts music, films, dance, and other lovely events in her church, high up in the old village.

Ann is a beautiful woman.

The set-up for this performance was challenging, to say the least. We could only drive about half-way up to the church, then we had to walk over rough cobblestone paths and stairs the final bit - carrying equipment. Because this was not even close to a conventional theatre, we had to bring everything: lights, cables, curtains, dance floor, etc. It was difficult, but worth it. I love performing in non-traditional spaces. I especially love performing in old churches. I am not religious in any conventional way, but I can absolutely appreciate the feeling of a place that has housed the prayers of many for so long. The quality of the air is tangible, the walls have a different sense of permanence, and the sense of sacred becomes very real for me.

It reminds me that dancing is my prayer, my offering.

So we had to build everything from scratch.

Once we installed our makeshift batten (pipe to hold our curtains) and used the tallest ladder to support the center, Gianpaulo (oh right, Cesare and Luca are both working on a show in Bologna, Gianpaulo - I liked to call him Gianpaulo Secondo (in my head, of course) - was working with us for our final two performances) rigged two ladders together with some rope, and with the help of Luca, Ann's daughter's boyfriend, we were able to hang the curtains.

Ann made us lunch, so we took a little break to eat some pasta, spinach quiche, and salad. I love these moments, the meals together. My friend Amy always talks about how important it is to eat together, and I agree completely. Sharing food, passing plates, talking - in Italian - I think back to my meal at Marina and Marco's after the grape harvest, and being so lost in the language. But now, I could follow, and even participate a bit in the conversations. Wow.

After lunch, we finished up the preparations, turned on the heaters (it was so very very cold), and mopped the floor. It took forever for the floor to dry, so I had to make a rehearsal on a wet floor in my socks. I would not recommend this. But in the end, like always, everything worked out beautifully, and we had a lovely show.

Afterwards, Ann's friends made sausages and bruschetta with fresh-pressed olive oil, and we washed it all down with wine. Fantastic.

The next day, we drove to Spello for the past performance of the tour.

For this show, we were in the Teatro Subasio, so our set-up was a picnic compared to the day before.

This was another traditional Italian theatre, so again we had the beautiful boxes, and house, and thankfully the rake of the stage wasn't too steep.

We set-up in record time, had time to rehearse, and I even had a moment to close my eyes for a little rest before the show began. Simone has been working in Tuoro with two dancers, a composer, and a video artist from Cagliari (Sardegna), so they all, with Virginia Spallarossa (she works with Simone) made the trip out to see the performance.

When I walked out on stage for my introduction monologue, I saw a woman waving at me from the audience. Before I could even think about it, I waved back, then began talking. It turns out that the lady was la nonna di Simone (grandmother), and she had me confused for a moment with Lenka. Of course Lenka is Czech and blond, but we're both tall, and la nonna is quite old - it was sweet.

We finished it all off with dinner together (certo!) after the show, and I was able to meet la nonna, Simone's aunt, uncle, and two beautiful cousins, Sara e Stephanie. Stephanie is a professional water polo player with perhaps the biggest shoulders I have ever seen. Her mother was telling stories of how vicious the players are, pulling off each other's swimsuits, biting and kicking underneath the water - yikes. All I have to say is that I wouldn't ever willingly take on Stephanie... that lady is TOUGH.

It was a late late night, but we finally made it home, and I climbed in bed for my final night in Tuoro. And thus ends my Italian tour....

On Monday I packed all of my stuff - really? that's mine? that too? and took a train to Rome, so that I could spend the night at my friend Barbara's apt, drop off my big bagaglo, and get to the airport on Tuesday to fly to Amsterdam and then catch a train to Bruges. I'll be in Bruges for a few days watching some dance performances at the December Dance 09 Festival, then head to Amsterdam to meet my friend Jose and go see some more dance before I head back to ATX next week. Fun!!

Oh the Dancing!

Welcome back to blog-land, me! As of November 7, my Italian tour started in earnest, and as some of you may have realized, I have had difficulties keeping up with my blog. So now I find myself with so many things to share, but not quite sure how to go about it. Bear with me while I do a little self-organized catch-up.

So first, the tour…..

Here’s a glance at my performances:

Nov 7: Teatro Comunale dell’Academia, Tuoro sul Trasimeno

Nov 8: Palazzo Leto, Spoleto

Nov 14: Teatro Comunale, Città della Pieve

Nov 21: Teatro Petrella, Longiano

Dec 2: CRT Teatro, Milan (Short Formats Festival X Edizione)

Dec 5: La Fortezza, Campello sul Clitunno

Dec 6: Teatro Subasio, Spello

We returned from Milano late last night, and tomorrow we drive to Campello sul Clitunno, where I will perform in an old church. On Sunday, we head to Spello for the final performance of my Italian tour.

Ummm…. Did I say closets and bathrooms? Well, it turns out I meant theatres and palaces….

Who knew? Not me, obviously.

On Saturday, November 7, I performed at the Teatro Comunale dell’Academia in Tuoro sul Trasimeno (my hometown), at a big festa Deja Donne threw to celebrate the end of the Glimpse of Hope tour.

The other dancers reprised the installation/performance they created for Cagliari, Simone’s super talented friend Andrea Bartola had a comedy/music set, and this amazing woman, Rosetta Martellini brought her “juke-box di poesia” where she recites selections of poetry and prose through a device that is somehow a cross between an octopus, gas mask, and old fashioned telephone. It’s beautiful – you make a selection from a directory that looks a lot like a karaoke index, then she reads it for you, dramatically, through a set of tubes that you hold to your ears. It is arrestingly intimate; her voice felt like it appeared inside my body - quiet but clear whispers of Elizabeth Barrett Browning in Italian. http://www.rosettamartellini.it/pio_bove.htm

Then on Sunday morning, Lenka, Cesere, and I loaded up the van and drove to Spoleto, where I performed in a room in the Palazzo Leti.

Over the course of seven hours, we transformed an empty room in this palace into a beautifully intimate performance space.

The performance was part of a festival celebrating various foods native to Italy, so after I danced, we went next door to enjoy wine and various dishes created from chestnuts – everything from savory to sweet – and created especially for this event. Delicious.

I’d like to take a moment to talk about chestnuts. I love them. I had no idea I loved them. My only reference prior to this trip was a dirty joke based on the song “Chestnuts Roasting O’er an Open Fire.” But they really DO roast chestnuts over an open fire. And wow are they delicious. Why have I never had chestnuts before?? Do they not grow in the south?? Southern USA, that is.

The following week we drove to Citta’ Della Pieve, and I walked into the most beautiful little theatre I think I have ever seen.

According to Lenka, it is a very traditional Italian theatre, which means that the stage is much higher than the floor seats of the audience, with boxes all around. What this also means is that the stage is, by necessity, raked, aka slanted. This particular theatre wasn’t so bad – the angle was around 2%. But I soon discovered ‘not so bad’ is completely relative. For me, it was bad – horrifying in fact.

Well, ok, maybe I am being a bit dramatic, but still, performing is difficult enough as it is, without having to climb uphill. Thankfully, I was able to rehearse a few times, but in the end, the dancing was an act of faith. Like Simone said, you just have to go for it – fully – and trust that your body will know what to do.

(To all my former students to whom I have said, “Dancing should not be an act of faith, but rather skill and technique,” I amend myself. Dancing can succeed as an act of faith, but only after the knowing and the doing are so deeply embedded that when you let go, the memory is strong enough to carry you through.

So the next week, I found myself in Longiano, in the Teatro Petrella.

We arrived the night before the performance and stayed in the apartments owned by the theatre. It was really beautiful. This theatre is able to host residencies for companies to create new work because they can provide lodging on site. Lenka was not able to come with me because she had family arriving from Prague to help pick olives from their land. Cesere was also unavailable, due to another engagement, so I found myself with a totally new crew:

Elisa (production assistant), Giovanni (her boyfriend), and Luca, technical specialist extraordinaire. (Here are Elisa and Luca)

Though we hit some rough patches, everything worked out in the end, and Luca designed some beautiful lights for Jeanine’s piece. Of course, the angle of the stage was 5% (!!!*#$^), but by now, I had had practice J.

After the show Giovanni drove us back to Perugia, and I spent the following day with Elisa and Giovanni, walking around Perugia, and eating a beautiful Sunday lunch, complete with special desserts. The eating here….

There is a university for foreigners in Perugia, and they offer various Italian language courses. I think I would like to come back and do a three month course next year…. My Italian has been improving steadily, and I have actually had a few real conversations – with gestures of course. But still! What’s funny is that my friend Barbara told me that I don’t sound like an American when I speak, but rather I have a Korean accent when I speak Italian – how is this possible??

After Longiano I had 10 days free before Milano, so I was finally able to make some small trips. I will get to those later. But for now, I’ll wrap up this episode with our trip to Milano. Lenka and I left Tuoro at 6:45a on Wednesday and after four hours on the train, arrived at the CRT Teatro. We were invited to participate in the Short Formats Festival, X Edizione, and this is by far the most professional gig of the tour. And of course, it happened quite at the last minute. When we were in Cagilari, Simone received an invitation, and luckily I was here, and we had a 25-minute performance ready and available. I was able to do it simply because I was in the right place at the right time. I LOVE it when that happens.

There were performances happening all over the theatre, in various spaces. I performed twice, and it was great. The audiences were fantastic, and by good fortune, Barbara Schroer, the video artist, who lives in Rome, is currently in Milan with her son Viktor while her partner Pietro works with a local theatre company, so she was able to be there for the performance. It was really nice to have the whole team together for this festival. (I brought Lenka and Simone to Texas for the premiere of the work, but Barbara was unable to come because she had just, and I mean just, given birth to Viktor).

So now we only have two shows left. It is very hard to believe that my time here is coming to an end… in fact, I find that I don’t want to talk about it….

So, stay tuned for my adventures in Rome, Florence, Naples and Pompeii!!

Ciao!!

My European Debut

Cagliari, Sardinia: The dancers, Lenka, Cesere (technician), and I flew from Rome to the beautiful island of Sardinia, where we performed in the Autunno Festival di Danza at the Teatro la Vetreria. The dancers created and performed an installation one evening, then I shared an evening with another company, performing an excerpt of a work created by Jeanine Durning (in Italian!), I Am Stranger, and All The Stories You Have Been Telling Me, choreographed by Lenka Flory and Simone Sandroni.

The second part of All The Stories includes a video, a beautiful video of trains at the Terontola-Cortona stazione, made by Barbara Schroer. I have performed the first half of this solo as an independent work a number of times in the states and Mexico, but only at the premiere in Austin was I able to perform the entire work. The reason being that the format of the video is a bit complicated; rather than using the entire projection screen, the image is narrower than the stage and divided into two columns with a black curtain (cuinta nera) covering the center panel. It takes time, patience, and resources to set it up properly, and these things tend to be absent in festival situations. One of the best things about performing this work as a member of Deja Donne is that Lenka is charge, and technical difficulties are simply that – difficulties, not obstacles.

So we spent a day transforming the Sala Rubia into an intimate performance space, and dealing with the curtains, lights, and video projections. In addition to the train video in All The Stories, each solo has a location video that precedes it in performance. This is where we run into trouble. The location video IS the size of the screen, so when we hang the curtains to make the area more narrow, we lose image. Also, the center curtain must be out of the way during the location video, then flown in for the solo. And even though this is not actually my Italian tour of closets and bathrooms (thanks errin J), flying curtains in and out was not an option.

All I have to say is thank whatever god that there are still craftsmen in the world, people who know how to use their hands, that don’t use machines for everything, and don’t expect everything to automated. I think there may be an inverse relationship between problem solving abilities, and mechanization (Rusty and Chih Feng, I am NOT talking about you). When we did this piece in Austin, we had trouble getting the tech in the theater to agree to re-hang the curtains onto a track where we could easily slide them in and out. Here, Giorgio, with Emiliano, patiently hung the curtain, then rolled it until it was flush with the beam above the stage, and also rigged a string-pull so that I could release the curtain from back stage. Easy.

The performance itself was wonderful. I spoke my text from I Am Stranger in Italian without stumbling or throwing up and even got a few laughs. All The Stories went really well too – I am so excited to dance the work in its entirety. It is beautiful, rich, and thoughtful.

When I ask myself what kind of work I want to perform, it is this: work that is challenging, work that asks me to go beyond what I think I can do, work that demands that I am honest –not necessarily about who I am, but with an idea, a character, or an interpretation, work that obliges me, through physicality, to touch emotions within myself, work that requires me to grow as a dancer, an artist, and a person – in short, work that demands that I participate.

These two solos from my project are these kinds of works. This is what I get to do here. È vero.

Question

Can somebody please explain to me how to use a bidet? I don’t want to actually use one, but I would like to know how. And hey, maybe if I knew how to use it, I would. It is so disconcerting to me to not have any idea what to do with this object in a room that has so often been a sanctuary for me. I like walking into a place and knowing consciously and unconsciously how things work – that is so intrinsically linked with my sense of comfort. And I find that the European bathroom, or actually the non-North American bathroom is oddly unfamiliar. I don’t know what to do. To think, that the line of my cultural divide is drawn thusly.

I don’t mind not knowing the protocol at a restaurant – do I find my own table? Do I wait to be seated? At the grocery store – you want me to rent my shopping cart for a euro? Label my own produce? Pack my own bags? Buy the big ones? No problem. This is part of what I love about traveling – seeing how things that we all need to do – like eat, buy wine, make keys, etc., work in different countries and cultures.

But the bathroom is a different story. To me, bathroom (my personal bathroom) represents safety, it’s a retreat, a precious place. This is my space, my time, my privacy. This is the place where I create, alter, and take care of the person I share with the world – physically AND emotionally. Here, my defenses are down. I am vulnerable. I want comfort. I want familiarity.

But of course that creates its own problems considering that a huge part of how I figure out how to do things outside of what I know comes from observation and watching people. Since I have yet to meet anyone here that I would like to watch in the bathroom, much less on a bidet, I’m on my own. I mean, do you use soap? Do you walk over there with your pants around your ankles? Did that washcloth that I’m looking at really do that there? And what’s up with no shower curtains? It’s ok to leave huge puddles on the bathroom floor? Really?

Moving

Wow. Two weeks since my last post. Thank you Annie and Alfredo for sending me the charger for my camera and extra cables!

I have now been in Italy for three weeks. Where has the time gone?? Well, it’s been a busy few weeks here in beautiful Tuoro. I have officially moved from my very very very small room in the dancer’s house

into a small, but oh so cute apartment - on my own. (there is a song from Fame running through my head right now….) The apartment is just past Lenka’s house, down a deceptively low hill, beyond about four incredibly loud dogs.

I was a bit torn at first about moving into my own space. I am in a foreign country with very little Italian at my disposal (though it’s getting better daily), and I was thinking it would be better to be around people, even if it meant sleeping in a room where the walls were so close it felt like I was being hugged all night. But I am so used to being on my own. I like not talking all the time. I like not having to negotiate what kind of mood someone is in – not all the time anyway. Don’t get me wrong, I like people – I just happen to have really strong introvert AND extrovert tendencies…, and I like my privacy.

So I’ve been settling in. The dancers were gone for ten days performing – Lenka too, so I was really on my own, with the exception of Elisa in the office Mon-Wed mornings. I walked to the supermercato to buy my juice, prosciutto cotto, and Tabasco sauce. Everything else I can get in my local alimenteri/frutta e verdura shop. I love walking here. There are a lot of older people in the town and surrounding areas, and they all tend to stare at me with my American tennis shoes and backpack. But all I have to do is say, “Buon giorno!” and they are all smiles. This moment of facial transformation has become one of my favorites.

I have made my first real purchases here as well. I bought a knife,

which I AM bringing back with me. It’s crazy though – this American product domination – the knife is made in Italy, but packaged in the states, so all the writing is American, which does nothing for this American guilt I carry when I travel.

I also bought a train ticket (in Italian! - and I know the picture is reversed, but this was during the time I had no charge in my camera....) from my local tabacchi shop, and I had keys made. So it’s official - I live here, at least for this moment. I have keys. To my apartment, to the dancer’s house (for laundry and baths in the beautiful huge tub), and the theatre (for internet and rehearsals).

Grape Harvest!!

Yesterday I went with Lenka to help one of her friends with the grape harvest.  It was AMAZING!  We each picked up a bucket and a pair of pruning scissors and joined Marco, Lucio, Carlo, and Andro in the vineyard (no heiresses yet, Clare and Angie).  

We cut the grapes off the vine - negro e blanco – with the shears,put them in buckets, dumped them (gently!) into bigger crates,which Marina took in her tractor to the shed

where they put them into a machine that removes the stems and filled a HUGE bucket with grape pulp. 

 

I was so scared that I was going to do something wrong and would ruin a whole batch of wine.  Something like, “Don’t drink the 2009 –that was a very bad year.  Oh right, that’s when the Americana came to help us.”  I felt so bad about wasting any grapes, but if they're not sweet, then you don't pick them - or you toss them on the ground.  You have to taste them to find out :)

 

We worked for about three hours, with help from a few more people, laughing, talking, cutting, and collecting.  Andro was the only Italian fluent in English, and though I was pulling out what I realize now is my not-so-limited Spanish, I thoroughly enjoyed everyone talking around me.  I love listening to people speaking Italian, especially when they are not worried about translating for me all the time.  I can pick out enough words to get the gist of what they are saying, and anyone who has been around Italians knows that at least half of what is being said is coming through facial expressions and gestures – I was laughing right along with them. 

 After that we had a huge Italian lunch with everyone that helped with the grapes.  Huge bowl of fresh, home-made pasta, egglant with red peppers, sausage, bread cheese, tomato and pepper salads – all fresh – so delicious.  (Sorry I didn’t get any pictures of the food Mocha!) Andro kept singing rock songs, and kept being told to stop.  When we were picking grapes, he said 'so I guess this is where the Rolling Stones got the idea for sticky fingers.'  But it was like steecky feengrs - precious.  And then when they were serving coffee after lunch, he broke out into, 'wack up, leetl suzeee, wack up' I almost peed in my pants.

 

I love these Italians so much.  Everyone was involved somehow in antiques - they are so smart and kind and full of life.  They were/are all part of this movement from the 70s to start communes - they came from the north of Italy and moved here to Tuscany/Umbria, bought land, and live from the earth.  I wish I could get across the feeling of how intelligent and sensitive of humanity they are -  honest, real, and reflective about human nature.

What a gorgeous day.

My street, for now....

So this is my street.  When I arrived, Lenka said, just go down this street, follow it 

around, and you will arrive at the plaza.  I was looking for the street, until I realized that she meant this paved walkway.....  

I am staying in a house with the four dancers of the company, and my room is very very very small.   A twin bed, and enough room to open the door.  Lenka is looking for another place for me, but for now I have no problems with the lack of space.  It actually makes me feel safe, almost cocooned.  Of course it may be a completely different story next week, once I've gotten my bearings.  

Yesterday I went for a walk with Lenka and her daughter Giulia to Vernazzano, a little village with a music school where Giulia will start piano lessons next month.  It is so beautiful here. People WALK.  We walked through the woods, along dirt paths, on paved roads - no street signs - saying 'buona sera' to everyone we saw.  We passed 

grapes vines, olive trees, and horse corrals. 

It seems ridiculously romantic, and I love it.  I am wondering when it will feel 'normal.' 

On Sunday, I will go with Lenka to her friend Marina's and help with the grape harvest.   I cannot wait!!!  And Lenka and her husband Simone own some land on a small hill.  They have 1,000 year old olive trees  - !!!!  I am going to pick olives with them at the beginning of November, and then we will take the olives immediately to press olive oil.  I often think that when I quit this dancing life, I'll get some land (with what money??) and grow things.  Anything - things that I can hold in my hands, things that hold actual nutritional value, that feed more than my curiosity.  Tangible things, instead of dance works that disappear as soon as they appear and remain only in my body's memory.  Don't get me wrong - I regret nothing, but sometimes I just think it would be nice....