Summer summaries...

So I've been horribly neglectful the last few months, and I sincerely apologize, though I don't feel too horrible because most of my free time was taken up by preparing for about 99% of my blog readership to visit, and then going home, so.... ;) they got the updates regardless.

Mm, The Tempest was a modern program we did in May at the Halle aux Grains theatre, but my memory is mostly muddled by constant apartment visits, searching for my new home. Just before heading to the theater for opening night I found it: after many "fine" or "maybe acceptable" slightly dingy options that I could've turned into a home with a fair amount of work, I visited the apartment I'd had a special feeling about all week, and it was magic. Mountains when the weather cooperates, river, trees, flowers, a balcony, 5th floor with an elevator, light, airy, clean... I snatched it up quick as I could. 

After mid-May, the days filled up fast, preparing for Nanette's last program.  I danced Concerto Barocco, Slaughter on 10th Avenue, and Petite Mort, and couldn't have been happier.  Concerto is ultimate Balanchine, 8 corps girls and 2 soloists to a Bach violin concerto with two solo violins (plus one boy to carry the girl around in second movement). It is 20-25 minutes in white leotards and pink tights, and the corps never stops, never leaves the stage, and carries the piece.  Slaughter on 10th Avenue is just great fun, Balanchinian broadway with girls in flapper dresses, Richard Rogers music, and tap dancing.  It was funny to me to realize that American culture includes knowing how to do the Twist and the Charleston and jazz hands, and a lot of Europeans don't have that innate sense.  I have long thought of myself as a mishmash of cultures, with no real precise cultural heritage but instead the specific surroundings that molded me into who I am.  After almost a year in France, I finally found an area where I truly identified myself as American with a smile and a high kick.

The major accomplishment of the program for me, however, was Petite Mort.  It's the kind of ballet dancers dream of performing, choreographed by Jiri Kylian to Mozart -- in other words, the best of the best.  My partner Jérémy and I had a great time with it, nerves and high expectations met equally by the movement and joy of doing it.  We were second cast to Paola and Valerio, two experienced Italian principals, and so had the chance to watch a more veteran approach before throwing ourselves into it and bringing a whole different quality to the pas de deux.  I came offstage, exhausted from doing all three programs in one show, but exhilarated and ready to perform it again and again and again into forever.  That kind of ballet.  

Through this whole program I had the incredible luck to have my family here!  Nana and Papa first, and then Logan, Mum and Dad, to watch the last shows and hang out in southern France for a while.  We went to Bordeaux for the Fête de Vin, and toured wineries in Saint-Emillion, they went and saw prehistoric caves... and we ate and visited museums and wandered Toulouse, with Papa, Dad and Logan joining forces for a bit of bricolage setting up my apartment while I was at work most days.  After Nana and Papa headed back to Canada for a family reunion and I finished up work (two extra weeks working with Kader, the director-to-be, tacked on to the end of the season), it was FINALLY time for les vacances.  

The first afternoon of freedom, Logan and I went paragliding in the Pyranées -- talk about running headlong into vacation -- and, with Mum and Dad, we stayed in a mountain lodge before going river rafting the next day.  Sunday we headed to Rome, the city of the Colosseum, Saint Peter's basilica, Michelango's La Pieta, and the fettuccine alfredo Logan spent most of his life thus far searching for.  Then Florence, full of art and beautiful bags and amazing food, with our two days in the city mostly spent taking the marvelous advice of my friend Clare who'd spent a semester studying there this spring, and went about 12 for 12 on recommendations.  A midnight private tour of the battlements of the town hall/museum with live music drifting up from the street (cue me and Logan waltzing with the city behind us); to-die-for gelato (coupled with the rationale that yogurt is a breakfast food, frozen yogurt definitely should count as an acceptable accompaniment to our croissant...); an unforgettable meal at Il Santo Bevitore, including potato foam soup with poached egg and truffle oil (as an example) and bathroom stalls marked by tiles of a simple red rose, and le petit prince... I can't wait to get back there. Then we had a quick stay in Venice, a city of romance and water, lightning storms over the canal and artisan masks, and winged lions harkening back to an era where Venice was the center of the Mediterranean world.... 

Then, back to Toulouse and on to New York, and then home for five full weeks, enough time to see so many old friends and bask on the dock and take a full course at the UW, which filled in all the time between my yoga, ballet, and Gaga classes.  It was called "Culture, Ecology and Politics in Seattle" and was wonderful -- both because the content was interesting, the teacher was great, the readings were thought-provoking... and because it reminded me about how good I am at being a nerd: taking notes well and knowing the answers to questions in class and having superb highlighting skills. ;) This post is already too long, but I could gush about my family and being home for hours.  I'll just trust in the fact that most of my readership spent time with me in person this summer anyway, and move on.  Besides, what more can you want, life has to be pretty blissful when I have this as the view from my bedroom window: 

Another "layover" in New York... for nine days... on my way back to Toulouse was wonderful -- apartment hunting with Sophie, learning secret family recipes from Dan's mum, getting to watch him and Max play tennis, getting caught in a downpour with Paul and Sophie, a Yankee game (and loss, thank the baseball gods), wonderful music and making new friends, catching up with Jin and Eduardo, getting to say a heartfelt hello to Alma (that'd be Alma Mater, the statue on the Columbia steps).... New York is always good.  It was the first time in a few years, however, that it didn't immediately feel like home -- a sign, I think, of how I really have become attached to my little space over here on the far side of the Atlantic.  And what a pretty little life I have set up for myself here:

I've been back two and a half weeks now, and my life is already feeling all sorts of lovely and full, with yoga and all day rehearsals of Kylian, and good new books (on my new Kindle too!) and long brunches and picnics out by the Garonne, market veggies and my new apartment starting to feel like home.... Life's good. All of sudden, here we are, at the start of year two. On y va.