As The Rocker says, “Apply for things and forget about them. You’ve lost nothing if they never happen, but when something does come through, you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”
And so we wait for confirmation on project after project: a 1-hour made-to-order multi-media/acrobatic show at an international film festival in Taipei, various residencies in Japan, the budget for an international new circus festival in Taiwan, the possibility of performing or creating a new show in Singapore.
I also wait for responses from several proposals I have sent out on my own: residency at MIT, working with my former dance company in Boston, even applying for a Data Analysis Specialist position at Mauna Kea Observatory in the naive hopes that this life of show production and promotion might someday provide me with an easy exit ramp back to the life of a responsible, financially-secure scientist.
Last night, after returning from a limited Golden Week roadtrip with The Political Scientist and her friend, I received word that the Chuncheon International Mime Festival was indeed counting on me to present at the end of May as a graduate of the National Circus School of Canada, a former freelance performer for the Canadian circus company Cirque Theatrical at the 2005 World Expo in Nagoya, and assistant director/new project coordinator for the National Theater of Taiwan. All this despite their notice in April that due to budgetary constraints, they would not be able to sponsor me after all.
It was a last-minute change, the kind that I have had to learn to accept in my profession. The only way around it is to maintain flexibility in your commitments at all costs. Luckily, on the particular week in question, I was able to reschedule all commitments except for one, so on to Seoul.
It has been a long time since I was last in South Korea. The las time was in 1991 as an incredibly awkward 14-year old travelling with my family. I remember nothing of the language, except for “thank you,” and nine of the numbers from one to ten (I have no idea which number I am missing).
Whenever I travel to a country, I like to learn enough of the language to order a local specialty in a bar or make a request of a DJ. I think that if you know that much of a language, you are well on your way to fluency.
“Excuse me, a drink please.”
“What do you recommend?”
“One of those, then.”
“Excuse me, do you have ‘Dirty Water’ by the Standells?”
“It’s ok. Sorry to bother you, but do you have ‘Kids in America’ by Kim Wilde?”
“Excellent! Thank you!”
By living abroad in non-Anglophone countries for the last 6 years, I have learned that I had been far too anxious when it came to learning foreign languages. It took me about one week to learn ‘bar Mandarin.’ I didn’t understand responses word-for-word, but body language clears up a lot of ambiguity. The only problem was that I had no idea what they brought me that night and was unable to order it again. I just asked for recommendations everywhere I went.
So for Korea, I am supposed to talk about my studies at the National Circus School, what the “theatrification of Circus” involves, and what it is that characterizes the Canadian thrust of the movement. I have 24 hours to get my mind straight about this subject, compose an article and lecture and then send it to the festival for translation into Korean.
I will also probably have to provide a technical demonstration, though I am not really sure what that might entail, as theatrification is not a real word.