Letter from France 1

 

written in the Spring of 1989

 

Folks,

 

Châlons-sur-Marne is a small, happy town, and the Châlonites seem to be very clever with their hands at keeping objects in the air (at least the ones with whom I am spending time). Initially, I feared only 20,000 inhabitants, and now I think it is closer to 65,000. The circus school is quite pleasant; a series of about five or six buildings, most of which are interconnected with each other. Yes, we do have an real circus ring here, in a room that is called the "piste". (I haven't asked yet, and don't think you should, either.) Apparently, the campus was actually a permanent “winter circus” once, built around 1850.

 

I am staying in what is called the Hôtel de Cirque, or maybe the Maison d'École. It is the lodging area for visiting dignitaries to the school. From my second story window I could throw a bean bag and hit not only the piste, but the administration building, a moat, and several students who are hanging out outside smoking and not practicing like they should be.

 

The moat is great; it zigzags around and through the city with no discernible plan. As near as I can tell, it was built for commerce or maybe agriculture, but doesn't seem to be for defense. You needn't worry about us fending off hordes of Russian and Chinese circus students eager to learn our decadent western flash and style. A bridge over the canal is named for Louis XII. I have a morning jog that is mostly through a park across the street from the school and crosses the moat once (by bridge, I'm not getting that egotistical), and on the return over a working lock for small cargo boats.

 

The center of town is a pleasant 15-minute walk through a park/garden and a finger of the omnipresent moat. There is a movie theater (Which I haven't succumbed to yet), many bakeries and butcher shops, and what calls itself a supermarket, the Bravo. Little by little, I am getting away from buying a sandwich from the guy with the trailer set up at night on the main drag and am learning how to shop a la Française. Yesterda, I discovered yogurt and some "viande" thing, a stuffed roll of some sort, in the deli section that was okay for dinner even though I couldn't figure out how to make the stove hot. I assumed whatever was inside this doughy roll was already cooked and had at it. Rumor has it that a real supermarket exists in a shopping mall several miles out of town, but with no car or bicycle, I have yet to discover it.

 

My clothes are finally dry after hanging in the closet for several days. I think the washing machine is also the dryer. I keep my eyes open during the day to see how other people use the machine, but haven't mastered it yet. My child's dictionary of French doesn't list the words that are on the machine. It is a front-loader, and I think after the clothes are washed the machine turns into a sort of oven and the clean-but-still-wet clothes just sit in there while the water is baked out without a spin cycle. I chose to hand and air-dry my clothes rather than risk them being par-boiled. However, that does give me an idea for tonight's dinner.

 

I think I have thirteen juggling students. I'm not sure because my orientation meeting was in French. It took a while to decide that Dominic was truly telling me about my job and not just making nasty comments about my sister. After a couple of days of wandering around watching people, I realized that all of my students except for one juggle better than I do. Pierre has only recently decided to incorporate juggling into his free-standing ladder routine.

 

Anyway, everyone is working on different things so I spend roughly a half an hour a day with each student working on different "stuff". So far, "stuff" consists of me watching them juggle five balls and five clubs in different patterns. The irony of the situation does not escape me. I give them pointers and tell stories about Russian technique and suggest things and will introduce other props as time goes by. The students are all working on making their own scene for the big end-of-year production and are more concerned about perfecting their specialty and act than they are on becoming well-rounded jugglers. I pass clubs with them, which for most is a novelty, and I can show them a few things there.

 

Roseline is a juggler/clown who bounces five balls quite well. I suggest different bounce patterns I have seen at conventions and after struggling with the language problem she usually gets it. She is now working on bouncing five balls between her legs, turning in a circle, and going into a five high. I also told her about some nice four-ball patterns, so she is happy and busy. Another is a young German working on perfecting his show. He is already a great juggler, very smooth and quick. I watch his routine and tell him what to save, what to leave out, and what to modify so it flows better for the audience. He also seems pretty happy with this.

 

Right now my instruction is limited by my lack of French. For example, I know that "plus haut" means higher and constantly tell people to juggle their patterns plus haut. However, I'm not sure what "lower" is, "plus seul" and "plus bas" are strong contenders right now but until I find out I let people juggle too high; a problem when I am straining to catch all those high passes. I fear that "plus seul" may mean 'more by yourself' and am reluctant to suggest this to people with whom I am passing clubs. Also, I have figured out that "dropping" is either "tomber" or "tromber" so I use both. If the Eskimos can have 14 words for snow, as I juggler I am entitled to several words for drops. I usually choose "tromber" for when the drop frustrates me (rrrrrrrrr!).

 

On a personal level. I am doing pretty well. I go to the children's library frequently to read books and work on my French. At night I watch a lot of French television in the hopes that I can pick up the rhythm of the language. Many old American shows to be seen in dubbed in French. If anyone wants to see old 'Rockford Files' reruns, France is the place. Today I couldn't resist a French-dubbed 'Zorro' from the old Disney studios.

 

I manage to juggle for myself about one to two hours a day. Mostly balls, rings, and clubs. Though the space is overly scheduled, and rooms are in great demand it is wonderful to have high ceilings. Now I know why I never juggled rings before. I still don't like them too much, but at least there is time to get them all up in the air (at least there is air). Yesterday, I made a great discovery, triples with clubs. I now have enough room to throw a triple and can see all sorts of wonderful possibilities. The juggling space is a huge improvement on the old “fun flat” in the Richmond district of San Francisco.

 

take care, Tôdd

 

copyright 1989 by Todd Strong

 

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