Jasper was a dedicated performer, brimming with talent. His physique was long and lean, and his movements had just enough flair to evoke a sense of mystery and artistry (despite being from Kansas). He had studied under the renowned Ann Bogart, practiced the Suzuki method, and held a Master’s degree in acting. However, instead of relying on his emotional depth to convey stories, he utilized his body, making him a natural fit for circus life. J took both his craft and himself with utmost seriousness, often expressing his opinions so forcefully that they overshadowed others, drawing attention back to himself.
In the circus world, I was designated as an Official Partner, or OP for short, which simply indicated my role as J’s girlfriend. Our primary task as OPs was to enjoy our time freely. We toured six cities (Amsterdam, Barcelona, Vienna, Brussels, Madrid, and London), spending up to eight weeks in each location, with a week off between performances to explore.
Here are my reflections from each city during my adventurous year with the circus.
Amsterdam
For the initial six weeks, I set up residence in room 518 at the Renaissance Amsterdam Hotel. J had been there for a month already, and to ease my transition, he promised to arrange for Internet access and a phone card—neither of which happened. Jet-lagged and premenstrual, I found myself in tears. We exchanged worried glances, silently fearing we were doomed.
The bed, deceptively labeled as a double, was really two twin mattresses hidden beneath a dusty bedspread. I napped on it anyway, and when I awoke, J was at rehearsal. Feeling somewhat better, I figured out how to navigate Dutch transport to reach the circus tent (Le Grand Chapiteau).
Upon arrival, I was unprepared to see J dressed in black and red tights, pulled up high and held by suspenders, accompanied by arm-length gloves, a flowing cape, and a Jester’s cap. He was frantically searching for makeup remover to fix an eyeliner mishap. I couldn’t recall anyone’s name, much less pronounce them, but I noted the two women who had bloodshot eyes. J explained that it was common for those who performed on Chinese Poles; it was a result of the high velocity of their spins. So now, I was more concerned about velocity and spinning than bloody eyes.
The family performing as The Adagio Trio seemed far too serious for my liking. Rumor had it that M, their five-year-old, was born to replace D, who was then 13 and too large for his role. I met Leo, who struck me instantly. He resembled a star from a French New Wave film, yet was a professional wire walker. In the circus, however, that role belonged to a Russian, leaving Leo to portray The Child.
After an hour, I left. When J returned from rehearsal and leaned in for a kiss, I noticed remnants of white face paint lodged in his pores, and my desire for him faded.
We were invited to a party in E and M’s room, where acrobats danced to trance music, drank, and smoked hash. The Hand-to-Hand duo were awful dancers, the wire walker was a heavy drinker, and O, the Russian trapeze artist, was doing back handsprings in a cramped space. Everyone was decked out in metallic, bedazzled outfits—like toned-down versions of their performance costumes.
To my surprise, I found myself at what felt like a frat party, but I realized it truly was just that. These performers were not the creative artists I had imagined; they were more like jocks. They preferred techno music and mega clubs that thumped with bass. Oddly enough, I liked them, although my expectations had been wildly inaccurate.
After too many nights spent uncomfortably in the crack between the twin mattresses, J, E, M, and I devised a plan. We smoked Moroccan hash and snuck into an empty suite with a proper double mattress, intending to switch it out. After racing it down the hall and abandoning it due to an approaching noise, we returned to our room, only to be interrupted again as we attempted to retrieve one of the twin mattresses. Eventually, we realized we were too inebriated to complete our ridiculous scheme.
Living in Europe post-9/11 meant everyone wanted to discuss the attacks with me, often with a starstruck demeanor. Being in New York during the tragedy had somehow made us odd celebrities of calamity. This response was unsettling, akin to a woman stepping back upon realizing I was Jewish. I was baffled that my appearance hadn’t given that away, revealing how few Jews she had encountered.
After a week in Menorca, we headed to Barcelona for six weeks.
Barcelona
With ten shows a week, my time with J was limited, and Amsterdam had felt rather lonely. However, after our week in Menorca (which I deemed the best place on Earth), arriving in Barcelona—where buildings resembled dripping wax—brought new life to my experience. I developed a fondness for Antoni Tàpies and Cinzano (white). This was my kind of city.
Living in a hotel room taught me that small victories come from little discoveries. Our chair converted into a couch! The coffee maker also functioned as a hot plate! Rearranging the furniture transformed our space. I perfected the art of turning our temporary quarters into a home, employing a strategy that involved draping scarves, covering ugly artwork with brown paper, swapping out the bedspread, and stealing flowers from room service. These were all essential steps to creating my little sanctuary.
When friends Matt and Jeni visited, we drank heavily, leading to an unfortunate incident where, after Matt vomited, I followed suit all over my Steve Madden sandals, which I decided to abandon at the subway stop as we walked back to the hotel barefoot.
Circus drama centered around who missed what jump or who injured whom during stunts. Someone kept untying J’s left shoe during his act, infuriating him as he embarked on a mission to pinpoint the culprit. I already knew it was M—who was only five and a better contortionist than his parents.
J’s emotional distance became a source of frustration for me. I adored Europe and wanted to extend my stay, yet I questioned my feelings for J. I had achieved several milestones: I sold my first book, purchased my first cell phone, took trampoline lessons with Leo, began creating short films with him, and became J’s fashion consultant. We even taught the Europeans fake American expressions, claiming they were real. Whenever Leo entered a room, he’d exclaim, “Dude, where’s my car?” When something tasted amazing, he exclaimed, “King Kong these are good!” I met David Sedaris, watched the first five episodes of “American Survivor,” and learned to switch a twin mattress for a double without getting caught.
After a vacation in Croatia, we set up tents in Vienna.
Vienna
Leaving Barcelona was bittersweet. J and I spent our two-week tour break in Portugal, indulging in cheap port, exploring massive marble mines, and witnessing a bullfight. I decided to become a vegetarian—once again.
After checking in to our hotel in Vienna, we spontaneously took a two-day trip to Prague, where we playfully “adopted” a 12-year-old boy named Adam. I bought a stunning ring for five dollars, only to later realize that I had mistakenly paid over one hundred dollars for it after confusing my Kronas with Euros. I resolved to regard myself as a benefactor to a struggling Czech jeweler.
In five months, I read 24 books but remained unsure if J had any emotional depth. He seemed all intellect and no heart. Yet, I wanted to stay on tour.
Back in Vienna, I searched for a carrot peeler only to discover it cost an outrageous $17. The streets reeked of horse manure and Freud, and everything felt exorbitantly priced. I found solace backstage, spending more time with Leo than J. Their friendship had begun to fray, mirroring my own feelings towards J. I found my rhythm among performers as they prepped for shows—dressing in costume, gathering for a quick smoke, and engaging in chess games before the performance began.
Brussels
After two days in Brussels, I found myself surprisingly fond of the city. Contrary to expectations of boredom, it buzzed with life. Upcoming concerts, theater festivals, flea markets, and a vibrant African district made me feel at home.
J and I ventured to Antwerp for two days, thoroughly enjoying our time there, though we regretted seeing an awful show called Puppetry of the Penis in Ghent.
One discovery that amazed me was that pharmacists actually wrote prescriptions! Also, the street snails were delicious. Brussels was alive with music and culture, and I found little reason to visit the circus tents.
It seemed I wasn’t the only one questioning my relationship with J; Leo mentioned that others deemed J pretentious. This revelation soothed me, as I had felt the same way. Furthermore, rumors circulated that J’s contract might not be renewed for the following year, which added to the circus gossip surrounding him.
As I spent more time with French-speaking performers, I found myself peppering conversations with “C’est ça,” “Mais oui,” and “Bon.” This did little to alleviate my guilt as an American, a nationality that was met with disdain. Every movement, from how I ate to how I spoke, was scrutinized, reminding me of the stark reality of my identity.
Summary
Joining the circus offered me a unique perspective on life, love, and identity. Through the vibrant cities of Europe, I navigated the complexities of relationships while immersing myself in the culture. Each city brought its own lessons, from the struggles of adapting in Amsterdam to the chaotic yet exhilarating life in Barcelona, ultimately leading to self-discovery in Vienna and Brussels.
As I grappled with J’s emotional distance and my own feelings, I found joy in the small victories of life on tour, creating a sense of home wherever I went. This journey was not just about the circus; it was about understanding love, friendship, and self-identity amid the whirlwind of performances and travels. For those on a similar path of exploring family planning, consider visiting Make a Mom for insights on fertility supplements or check out Make a Mom for guidance on your couples fertility journey. For further reading on genetics and IVF, explore this excellent resource.
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