Everyone I know has some flying rituals. Little things they think about -- places they get milkshakes or coffees. Stretches they do, people they call. Me, I always stay up too late packing the night before and spend much of the airport experience in a half-dead daze. I sleep on planes, curled up like a little child.
Once we landed at Cleveland-Hopkins Airport, I woke up and raced for the LCT stop. After waiting outside for 10 minutes, I huddled indoors and discovered I had missed the last bus by 15 minutes. Gahhh.
The LCT, or "Lorain County Transport," is a cheap bus running between Oberlin and Cleveland Airport, as well as other points in the area. The LCT runs seven times a day normally, and more so during special days (i.e. end of semester). If you can make the LCT, life is easy. If not, you're stuck with a taxi with a flat rate of $64 before tip & tax. Again: gahhhh.
If you've missed the LCT, it's customary for Obies to hang out at the airport to find someone to carpool/taxipool with. It's a nice way to make friends and save a bunch of money.
This time, I ended up meeting Lucas, a freshman from Oakland, who's really cool. He deferred for a year, taking a job for half the time and spending the rest of the year on Amtrak, seeing the country. He had spent his WT writing up and editing his journal from the travels. It was really interesting to see how his trip had differed from mine -- while Lucas went solo, I've normally had companions when exploring new areas. While I can be by myself without a problem, having company gives me a lot of perspective.
--
Right now, Yoshi and I are at home, on Pleasant Street. Oberlin is snow-covered, the college officially closed down for the day. It's good to be home, too. We notched the thermostat up and are putting away candy from Theo Chocolate, the only free-trade and organic chocolate-makers in the US. It's tasty chocolate. We just had dinner with the "Harkness Foodship," a group who stayed in Oberlin for Winter Term.
Everyone summed up their Winter Term in five words or less. I remembered these:
"Herodatus was a badass." (Greek Language Intensive)
"Playing with Legos." (Child development)
"Hip-hop is a one-word contraction." (Music and Spoken Word Readings)
Eliza wrote a limerick on her neurophysiology research:
A neuron, E1, had a mission
To excite all its neighbors' condition
Except, on occasion
In retaliation
'Twas paralyzed with inhibition.
... Though I forgot the words, I remember the other projects -- technical director for a play, building a super-computer, and Ma'ayan's Story Pirates.
As Ma'ayan can do a better job explaining the Harkness Foodship, I can sum up: it's an unofficial, Winter Term dining co-op where friends break from their projects to cook delicious meals. Last night's dinner was shish kabobs, cucumber salad, and couscous, with chocolate dipped fruits for dessert. The shish kabobs were either made of lamb or seitan, depending on preference. It was all very, very tasty.
The company was also wonderful to have again. To have a full table of people, happily eating a home-cooked meal... my heart shudders with fuzzy good thoughts.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Circus Parties and Finales
"It must be Thursday," Ben said. I poked my head up from my straddle-stretch and saw most of my classmates taping their wrists and putting leg braces on their ankles. We were getting bedraggled, after countless handstands, cartwheels, and rope climbs. Yet as the weeks wound down, we got closer and closer as a group. In class, we were taught not to be competitive. We were never set against each other -- we were partners, coaches to each other. Afterward, I didn't feel jealous or inadequate towards my peers. It made it easy to be friends.
At the beginning of the month, we had class, ate lunch together at some local restaurant, and then split up, either to shadow classes or to wander Seattle. It wasn't a very cohesive group -- outside of circus, we didn't have so many similarities. Some of us were extrovert-dance-party-dance people, others were more... chill. When we went to an arcade, I forgot that not everyone likes shooting zombies, playing pinball, and rocking out on DDR. I believed these were intrinsic "good things," like sunlight and cotton candy. It seems that not everyone enjoys large dark rooms with flashing lights, violence, and loud noises.
But as the weeks went on, we gelled. There were circus parties on Saturday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday with dancing, massage circles, cooking, and games. Part of getting good at various circus skills is learning how to hyperextend your shoulders, arch your back, and make your abs hard as stones. Games become absurd and physical -- flexibility tests involving a broom, a push-up game with beer bottles, a bending game with a paper bag, and tipsy handstand contests. We did the things you aren't supposed to try at home.
On Thursday, we got in to see Teatro Zinzanni, a lavish dinner theater circus. Through school, we got a massive discount so the whole class and four teachers went. Teatro Zinzanni is a real-life Moulin Rouge, the stage and seated areas overlapping with mirrors, red velvet, elaborate costumes, feathers, glitter, and hats. The acts collide with a 5-course dinner, with acrobats doing flips off the tables, and the dinner plates being spun.
Though we were sitting in the outer ring (yay, discount!) we still saw an amazing show. The highlight was Les Petits Freres, three incredibly skilled acrobats with a great slapstick routine. Their finishing move was a three-high (person on another's shoulders, on another's shoulders) that they got into from lying down. The whole circus-school crowd, squashed into two booths, erupted with applause. We stood, cheered, and didn't sit down. After weeks of practice, we all knew, in every tired little muscle, how hard that move was.
Les Petits Freres!
Chef Caesar!
Audience participation was integral to the show. The maestro, Chef Caesar, pulled up a number of people, mostly women, to flirt with. But the big deal was when he needed a replacement and needed to find "three virile men" to choose from. Our group all pointed at Terry, one of our teachers who's a really gifted physical performer. He's Charlie Chaplin, if Chaplin could do aerial rope. We pointed at him, cheering. Except rather than Terry, the "Chef" winked at Yoshi. Yoshi, your narrator's boyfriend, was one of the selected.
The other two guys were big, all-American boys, blue-eyed and straight-haired. One was big and manly, the other was young and manly. Yoshi is 5'3'', slim with long hair and a goatee. The odds seemed a bit stacked. "Chef Caesar" serenaded the two other guys first, cooing over their bulging muscles and masculine charms... then approached Yoshi. I waited for the seemingly-inevitable barrage of short jokes.
Instead, Caesar started singing Jesus Christ Superstar. He finished a few verses of the theme song as well as "I Don't Know How to Love Him." The host hugged him, yelling, "You're back! I'm so glad you're back! Baby, baby Jesus, you sacred stud!" In the audience, the circus crowd exploded with laughter. Yoshi isn't a very Jesus-like guy. He's a neuroscience major from Texas.
In order to win Caesar's crown, the three guys had to dance to "She's a Lady (Woah, Woah, Woah)." The game: every time Tom Jones sung the word "Lady," the man would have to point to a lady. While looking sexy. The first two guys went up, one by one and did an okay job. In the back, one of the waitress/performers gave Yoshi two pieces of advice:
1. "Take it off."
2. "Show them that Jesus could dance."
And Yoshi did. We've been doing dance warm-ups for the past 3 weeks -- both modern, ballet, and hip-hop. Yoshi served it up, stripped off his jacket, and pointed at ladies. The crowd crowned him victor and he got a little medal that said WINNER!
The next day, we had our final performance of "Look what I learned!" with individual acts and a big group number. Given none of us knew any of this before, it was amazing how much and how fast we had learned. Some of the others in the group excelled at one thing or another: rope, tightwire, trampoline, acrobalance, etc. For me... I didn't find a specialty, but I did find an area to improve in. For two weeks, I was scared of the trapeze. I couldn't get the most basic move, the "basket hang." It's not complicated, but I don't like holding myself upside down. Sticking my butt over my head is different from most other things in my life. But after I nailed the basket hang a few days ago... I got less scared of the trapeze. So, I made a short routine. Three of our coaches gave me advice on form and taught me some new moves (mermaid! bird's nest!). I shook out my newly-calloused hands and put on a little act.
We finished up with a few pyramids, doing slapstick-style interludes. The best was the "running man" number. Two duos stood face-to-face, grasping the other's wrists, making a little square platform that someone could balance a foot on. Or he could pantomime running a marathon, a la Prefontaine, with the duos whistling the "Chariots of Fire" theme. Then, we had a picnic lunch, did more handstands, went to a contra dance, and had a party.
This has been the best Winter Term I could imagine.
At the beginning of the month, we had class, ate lunch together at some local restaurant, and then split up, either to shadow classes or to wander Seattle. It wasn't a very cohesive group -- outside of circus, we didn't have so many similarities. Some of us were extrovert-dance-party-dance people, others were more... chill. When we went to an arcade, I forgot that not everyone likes shooting zombies, playing pinball, and rocking out on DDR. I believed these were intrinsic "good things," like sunlight and cotton candy. It seems that not everyone enjoys large dark rooms with flashing lights, violence, and loud noises.
But as the weeks went on, we gelled. There were circus parties on Saturday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday with dancing, massage circles, cooking, and games. Part of getting good at various circus skills is learning how to hyperextend your shoulders, arch your back, and make your abs hard as stones. Games become absurd and physical -- flexibility tests involving a broom, a push-up game with beer bottles, a bending game with a paper bag, and tipsy handstand contests. We did the things you aren't supposed to try at home.
On Thursday, we got in to see Teatro Zinzanni, a lavish dinner theater circus. Through school, we got a massive discount so the whole class and four teachers went. Teatro Zinzanni is a real-life Moulin Rouge, the stage and seated areas overlapping with mirrors, red velvet, elaborate costumes, feathers, glitter, and hats. The acts collide with a 5-course dinner, with acrobats doing flips off the tables, and the dinner plates being spun.
Though we were sitting in the outer ring (yay, discount!) we still saw an amazing show. The highlight was Les Petits Freres, three incredibly skilled acrobats with a great slapstick routine. Their finishing move was a three-high (person on another's shoulders, on another's shoulders) that they got into from lying down. The whole circus-school crowd, squashed into two booths, erupted with applause. We stood, cheered, and didn't sit down. After weeks of practice, we all knew, in every tired little muscle, how hard that move was.
Les Petits Freres!
Chef Caesar!
Audience participation was integral to the show. The maestro, Chef Caesar, pulled up a number of people, mostly women, to flirt with. But the big deal was when he needed a replacement and needed to find "three virile men" to choose from. Our group all pointed at Terry, one of our teachers who's a really gifted physical performer. He's Charlie Chaplin, if Chaplin could do aerial rope. We pointed at him, cheering. Except rather than Terry, the "Chef" winked at Yoshi. Yoshi, your narrator's boyfriend, was one of the selected.
The other two guys were big, all-American boys, blue-eyed and straight-haired. One was big and manly, the other was young and manly. Yoshi is 5'3'', slim with long hair and a goatee. The odds seemed a bit stacked. "Chef Caesar" serenaded the two other guys first, cooing over their bulging muscles and masculine charms... then approached Yoshi. I waited for the seemingly-inevitable barrage of short jokes.
Instead, Caesar started singing Jesus Christ Superstar. He finished a few verses of the theme song as well as "I Don't Know How to Love Him." The host hugged him, yelling, "You're back! I'm so glad you're back! Baby, baby Jesus, you sacred stud!" In the audience, the circus crowd exploded with laughter. Yoshi isn't a very Jesus-like guy. He's a neuroscience major from Texas.
In order to win Caesar's crown, the three guys had to dance to "She's a Lady (Woah, Woah, Woah)." The game: every time Tom Jones sung the word "Lady," the man would have to point to a lady. While looking sexy. The first two guys went up, one by one and did an okay job. In the back, one of the waitress/performers gave Yoshi two pieces of advice:
1. "Take it off."
2. "Show them that Jesus could dance."
And Yoshi did. We've been doing dance warm-ups for the past 3 weeks -- both modern, ballet, and hip-hop. Yoshi served it up, stripped off his jacket, and pointed at ladies. The crowd crowned him victor and he got a little medal that said WINNER!
The next day, we had our final performance of "Look what I learned!" with individual acts and a big group number. Given none of us knew any of this before, it was amazing how much and how fast we had learned. Some of the others in the group excelled at one thing or another: rope, tightwire, trampoline, acrobalance, etc. For me... I didn't find a specialty, but I did find an area to improve in. For two weeks, I was scared of the trapeze. I couldn't get the most basic move, the "basket hang." It's not complicated, but I don't like holding myself upside down. Sticking my butt over my head is different from most other things in my life. But after I nailed the basket hang a few days ago... I got less scared of the trapeze. So, I made a short routine. Three of our coaches gave me advice on form and taught me some new moves (mermaid! bird's nest!). I shook out my newly-calloused hands and put on a little act.
We finished up with a few pyramids, doing slapstick-style interludes. The best was the "running man" number. Two duos stood face-to-face, grasping the other's wrists, making a little square platform that someone could balance a foot on. Or he could pantomime running a marathon, a la Prefontaine, with the duos whistling the "Chariots of Fire" theme. Then, we had a picnic lunch, did more handstands, went to a contra dance, and had a party.
This has been the best Winter Term I could imagine.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Seattle, the city of neighborhoods.
After two weeks of circus school, I have bruises on my arm from hula hooping too hard, a cut lip from a bad handstand, big cuts on my foot from aerial rope, as well as more arm strength, new friends, better handstands, more confidence and balance. I'm stronger than ever before.
While circus school eats up over 20 hours a week, I do recognize a world outside of the tumbling mats and trampolines: Seattle.
I've been to Seattle once before, to visit colleges when I was a high school junior. My mother pointed out that college was more than your classes -- it was where you were living for four years. College had to be livable.
One of my priorities for college was getting out of New York. The east coast mentality doesn't resonate with me. While I like my ethnically diverse food, towers and subways, I've got a fondness for places with shared eye-contact and repeated meetings. I don't like to rush, and I'm not so fond of stress. Going west seemed obligatory. So my parents and I looked on the map and idly poked around. I didn't really know what I wanted in a college -- big/small, rural/urban -- so it seemed better to go by location and scope it out.
"I've never been to Seattle," I said, imagining gray skies, coffee, comic books and indie bands.
"When's spring break?" my parents asked.
In five days, I visited Puget Sound, U-Dub (University of Washington), Evergreen State, and Reed. I loved the classes at Puget Sound, the architecture at U-Dub, the artsy vibe of Evergreen, and the academic vigor of Reed. All of them were brilliant, though none of them felt like home. Given the pace of the trip, my mother and I didn't get much of a chance to poke around, but we liked the misty city we passed through. We would come back one day, we decided.
That day has come.
Yoshi and I struck it lucky: we're staying with a wonderful young couple. Karina, an Oberlin alum, read a little note in the local alumni newsletter and thought: "Yeah, I'll put up two circus kids." Bless her. She and her husband, Chris, have been incredibly welcoming. They've got full-time jobs and do capoera, kajukenbo and dance on the side, so they're pretty busy, but when we've had some shared time, we've hung out.
Karina and Chris live in the Central District, about 10 minutes by bus from the International District, Pioneer Square, and downtown. Delicious Vietnamese/Thai/Ethiopian/Chinese/Japanese restaurants are minutes away. We've been able to get bubble tea every other night. Otherwise, we've explored.
Seattle's downtown closes up at about 6:00, every day, which is super-weird. When we first got here, the lack of folks around a commercial area seemed rather creepy. With all the alleyways and fog, it seemed like a horror movie, just waiting to happen. Apparently, the present temperature (mid-40s) is considered "cold." People stay in, rather than trolling the streets for excitement.
Aside from downtown, we've wandered through Fremont, Beacon Hill, Green Lake, Georgetown, the International District, Central District, UWashington, Kirkland and Madrona. We've haggled for pizza, gone contra dancing, taken yoga, drunk bubble tea, gone shopping at Uwajimaya , talked to Native American art dealers and organic pizza makers, been harassed by homeless women, gotten into fights, eaten potluck burrito dinners, and been lost on buses. We've heard riot-folk and good stand-up comedy.
It's been great. While I miss the pulsing, busy, friendliness of Oberlin, I love the city in the sea.
While circus school eats up over 20 hours a week, I do recognize a world outside of the tumbling mats and trampolines: Seattle.
I've been to Seattle once before, to visit colleges when I was a high school junior. My mother pointed out that college was more than your classes -- it was where you were living for four years. College had to be livable.
One of my priorities for college was getting out of New York. The east coast mentality doesn't resonate with me. While I like my ethnically diverse food, towers and subways, I've got a fondness for places with shared eye-contact and repeated meetings. I don't like to rush, and I'm not so fond of stress. Going west seemed obligatory. So my parents and I looked on the map and idly poked around. I didn't really know what I wanted in a college -- big/small, rural/urban -- so it seemed better to go by location and scope it out.
"I've never been to Seattle," I said, imagining gray skies, coffee, comic books and indie bands.
"When's spring break?" my parents asked.
In five days, I visited Puget Sound, U-Dub (University of Washington), Evergreen State, and Reed. I loved the classes at Puget Sound, the architecture at U-Dub, the artsy vibe of Evergreen, and the academic vigor of Reed. All of them were brilliant, though none of them felt like home. Given the pace of the trip, my mother and I didn't get much of a chance to poke around, but we liked the misty city we passed through. We would come back one day, we decided.
That day has come.
Yoshi and I struck it lucky: we're staying with a wonderful young couple. Karina, an Oberlin alum, read a little note in the local alumni newsletter and thought: "Yeah, I'll put up two circus kids." Bless her. She and her husband, Chris, have been incredibly welcoming. They've got full-time jobs and do capoera, kajukenbo and dance on the side, so they're pretty busy, but when we've had some shared time, we've hung out.
Karina and Chris live in the Central District, about 10 minutes by bus from the International District, Pioneer Square, and downtown. Delicious Vietnamese/Thai/Ethiopian/Chinese/Japanese restaurants are minutes away. We've been able to get bubble tea every other night. Otherwise, we've explored.
Seattle's downtown closes up at about 6:00, every day, which is super-weird. When we first got here, the lack of folks around a commercial area seemed rather creepy. With all the alleyways and fog, it seemed like a horror movie, just waiting to happen. Apparently, the present temperature (mid-40s) is considered "cold." People stay in, rather than trolling the streets for excitement.
Aside from downtown, we've wandered through Fremont, Beacon Hill, Green Lake, Georgetown, the International District, Central District, UWashington, Kirkland and Madrona. We've haggled for pizza, gone contra dancing, taken yoga, drunk bubble tea, gone shopping at Uwajimaya , talked to Native American art dealers and organic pizza makers, been harassed by homeless women, gotten into fights, eaten potluck burrito dinners, and been lost on buses. We've heard riot-folk and good stand-up comedy.
It's been great. While I miss the pulsing, busy, friendliness of Oberlin, I love the city in the sea.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Off to Circus School!
Given my recent activities - teaching a circus arts Exco, producing a circus show and organizing OCircus - it seemed easy to decide my Winter Term project. Right now, I'm in Seattle, studying at SANCA, the School for Acrobatics and New Circus Arts. To put it succinctly, this school is going to kick my ass.
One of the purposes of Winter Term is to give Obies the ability to use resources that the college can't provide. My first Winter Term, I went to Hawaii to work on my godparents' orchid farm and learn about permaculture. My second year, I lived in Guadalajara, taking 4 hours of Spanish classes a day and living with a Mexican family. Last year, I split my term between home and Oberlin, working on an independent writing project. Over the last few years, I've spent more and more time working on OCircus and need more guidance, both in terms of skills and experience. Though learning from one another is valuable, it's also good to have the perspective of a professional from the field - someone who can be a mentor.
SANCA was founded by a professional rigger and a nurse, five years ago. Chuck, the rigger, had gotten into gymnastics rather late in life, using the muscles he built as a construction worker/stunt double. He started teaching acrobalance informally, and one of his students got a bright idea. Jo, an inner-city nurse, was noticing higher rates of childhood obesity, and few cures. Circus was a non-competitive, but very physically intense activity - wouldn't it be great to start a school, open to all ages and backgrounds, to build confidence, skill and strength through various circus arts?
These days, SANCA is run by about sixteen teachers, five of whom are Oberlin alumni. Besides teaching classes, they do outreach in middle schools throughout the greater Seattle area. As we have a really strong connection here, SANCA designed a special 3-week intensive course, just for Oberlin students. We're taking a three-hour classes each day, shadowing/assisting in other classes for five hours a week, and we can attend any additional adult classes with spaces open.
Class is hardcore. We spend about a half-hour doing warm-ups: jogging, stretching, dancing, moving, and then move on to skills. We've tackled crazy jumps on the trampolines, climbed rope, twisted around the aerial silks, walked on a tightwire, run on a rolling globe, hung on the trapeze and a German Wheel, as well as juggled, balanced, and tumbled. For three hours, with about four ittie-bittie breaks. I can genuinely say it's the most physically intense thing I've ever done. I love it.
After class, the priority is simple: food. Protein, in particular, as so much of the activity is anaerobic. Yesterday, my class got lunch at Stellar, where the pizza really was... stellar. It was really great to just sit back and eat tasty food with people I'd spent hours sweating around. After lunch, I shadowed two youth classes. Phew. Running after little kids isn't exactly exercise, but it is exhausting. Watching the nine-year-olds do things that I can't is particularly humbling. One of the little girls was an incredible gymnast, excelling at aerial rope tricks, her long blond braid dangling into the rope.
The little kid group I had afterwards was adorable. At first, I had trouble spotting handstands because their hips were so far away. Even so, they all high-fived "Coach Aries" at the end. I am a rock star to four-year-olds.
After five and a half hours of circus, adult acrobalance class was... difficult. After doing head-stands for the second time that day, I wanted to curl up in a ball and nap for hours. Exhaustion aside, I learned a lot.
A bit of terminology: acrobalance is the art of two or more people manipulating each other through space. If you've seen a human pyramid, or a piggy-back ride, that's simple acrobalance. One person is the base, who stays in contact with the ground. The base moves the flyer in complex and fairly precarious positions. Generally the lighter person is the flyer; however, the moves are more about physics than strength. A small flyer can still support a larger base, but it's a lot harder.
One of the coolest things we went over were two-highs, where the flyer stands on the base's trapezius muscle, while the base grips their legs and presses down with their head. If all goes right, the flyer is locked in, totally safe, five feet above the ground. A good base can walk around with their flyer. At the end of class, I got to base a two-high, resting the co-founder of SANCA between my shoulders.
Right now, my entire body aches. My neck is afire. My rhomboid is iffy. My thighs are confused. My biceps are in agony. This is perfect.
More about Seattle life soon. For now, bed!
One of the purposes of Winter Term is to give Obies the ability to use resources that the college can't provide. My first Winter Term, I went to Hawaii to work on my godparents' orchid farm and learn about permaculture. My second year, I lived in Guadalajara, taking 4 hours of Spanish classes a day and living with a Mexican family. Last year, I split my term between home and Oberlin, working on an independent writing project. Over the last few years, I've spent more and more time working on OCircus and need more guidance, both in terms of skills and experience. Though learning from one another is valuable, it's also good to have the perspective of a professional from the field - someone who can be a mentor.
SANCA was founded by a professional rigger and a nurse, five years ago. Chuck, the rigger, had gotten into gymnastics rather late in life, using the muscles he built as a construction worker/stunt double. He started teaching acrobalance informally, and one of his students got a bright idea. Jo, an inner-city nurse, was noticing higher rates of childhood obesity, and few cures. Circus was a non-competitive, but very physically intense activity - wouldn't it be great to start a school, open to all ages and backgrounds, to build confidence, skill and strength through various circus arts?
These days, SANCA is run by about sixteen teachers, five of whom are Oberlin alumni. Besides teaching classes, they do outreach in middle schools throughout the greater Seattle area. As we have a really strong connection here, SANCA designed a special 3-week intensive course, just for Oberlin students. We're taking a three-hour classes each day, shadowing/assisting in other classes for five hours a week, and we can attend any additional adult classes with spaces open.
Class is hardcore. We spend about a half-hour doing warm-ups: jogging, stretching, dancing, moving, and then move on to skills. We've tackled crazy jumps on the trampolines, climbed rope, twisted around the aerial silks, walked on a tightwire, run on a rolling globe, hung on the trapeze and a German Wheel, as well as juggled, balanced, and tumbled. For three hours, with about four ittie-bittie breaks. I can genuinely say it's the most physically intense thing I've ever done. I love it.
After class, the priority is simple: food. Protein, in particular, as so much of the activity is anaerobic. Yesterday, my class got lunch at Stellar, where the pizza really was... stellar. It was really great to just sit back and eat tasty food with people I'd spent hours sweating around. After lunch, I shadowed two youth classes. Phew. Running after little kids isn't exactly exercise, but it is exhausting. Watching the nine-year-olds do things that I can't is particularly humbling. One of the little girls was an incredible gymnast, excelling at aerial rope tricks, her long blond braid dangling into the rope.
The little kid group I had afterwards was adorable. At first, I had trouble spotting handstands because their hips were so far away. Even so, they all high-fived "Coach Aries" at the end. I am a rock star to four-year-olds.
After five and a half hours of circus, adult acrobalance class was... difficult. After doing head-stands for the second time that day, I wanted to curl up in a ball and nap for hours. Exhaustion aside, I learned a lot.
A bit of terminology: acrobalance is the art of two or more people manipulating each other through space. If you've seen a human pyramid, or a piggy-back ride, that's simple acrobalance. One person is the base, who stays in contact with the ground. The base moves the flyer in complex and fairly precarious positions. Generally the lighter person is the flyer; however, the moves are more about physics than strength. A small flyer can still support a larger base, but it's a lot harder.
One of the coolest things we went over were two-highs, where the flyer stands on the base's trapezius muscle, while the base grips their legs and presses down with their head. If all goes right, the flyer is locked in, totally safe, five feet above the ground. A good base can walk around with their flyer. At the end of class, I got to base a two-high, resting the co-founder of SANCA between my shoulders.
Right now, my entire body aches. My neck is afire. My rhomboid is iffy. My thighs are confused. My biceps are in agony. This is perfect.
More about Seattle life soon. For now, bed!
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