Things that Happened During 4 Weeks at the Bolshoi
Ten years ago (more or less), I quit ballet.
I don't remember all of the details--I was, after all, about twelve years old, and there were plenty of other things going on, like violin, a new school, new friends, etc.
I got back into ballet three years ago in reaction to my severe back pain in college, and I treated it as a casual interest, but it grew. It grew from one open class a week to three open classes a week to official university classes and Pilates to eight classes a week and Pilates and Yoga and gym sessions.
And it grew to auditions, and it grew to acceptances, and then it grew to me, at the age of 22 and with less than eight months back en pointe, spending four weeks in Moscow at the famed Bolshoi Ballet Academy.
And what a four weeks it's been.
The experience has been an amazing one, to be sure. I've visited several important cultural sites, ones like the Kremlin and The Lavra of St. Sergius, but also ones like flea markets and Galina Ulanova's apartment (it's now a museum). I made friends and explored the city's park with them. I ate Russian dormitory food for four weeks and I haven't gotten tired of it.
Also, both of my big toenails have fallen off. This has not been fun. The right one had been purple for about six months, although I can't remember what first caused it. It just turned color and didn't hurt, so I ignored it. The left one suffered a sudden bruising during variations class on the very first day of this intensive. I sat out for a while, and once the pain and swelling went down, I went back to classes. The next week, the back of the right toenail popped up, and, after some intense discussion about surgical removal and insurance with the nurse, it fell off painlessly during repertory. The other one is actually still hanging on--just clinging to my toe, but it needs to be taped in place to avoid being painful, so I count that as "fallen off".
I read Russian with much more ease now. This does not by any means imply that I understand any of it, but the alphabet processes easily now--I can say the words on signs and labels, but I don't necessarily know what they mean. I've also picked up a few phrases--you can't not pick up a few in class; ones like "one more time" and "get ready" and "left side" and "better" and "not bad."
Lastly, and most importantly, I improved my technique drastically. I can dance on raked floors, I can perform smooth and nearly effortless double pirouettes, and people have actually commented, plainly and to my face, that I have become more flexible. I still don't always understand the epaulement or where my head ought to be for where my legs are, but I'm definitely learning the finer points of the Russian technique. I've also learned how to dance on a raked floor, and for the past week and a half, it's felt just as natural as the level floor I've been dancing on for years. This 1.) awesome, because I've adapted and grown and 2.) bad, because I must be compensating in my balance somehow, and going back to a level floor will probably feel weird.
Now I prepare for a reverse of that detailed schedule of the plane ride to Moscow--a 10 hour flight to New York, a three hour layover, and then another 5 hours before I get back to my home. I'm last minute packing. I always do this.
I don't remember all of the details--I was, after all, about twelve years old, and there were plenty of other things going on, like violin, a new school, new friends, etc.
I got back into ballet three years ago in reaction to my severe back pain in college, and I treated it as a casual interest, but it grew. It grew from one open class a week to three open classes a week to official university classes and Pilates to eight classes a week and Pilates and Yoga and gym sessions.
And it grew to auditions, and it grew to acceptances, and then it grew to me, at the age of 22 and with less than eight months back en pointe, spending four weeks in Moscow at the famed Bolshoi Ballet Academy.
And what a four weeks it's been.
The experience has been an amazing one, to be sure. I've visited several important cultural sites, ones like the Kremlin and The Lavra of St. Sergius, but also ones like flea markets and Galina Ulanova's apartment (it's now a museum). I made friends and explored the city's park with them. I ate Russian dormitory food for four weeks and I haven't gotten tired of it.
Also, both of my big toenails have fallen off. This has not been fun. The right one had been purple for about six months, although I can't remember what first caused it. It just turned color and didn't hurt, so I ignored it. The left one suffered a sudden bruising during variations class on the very first day of this intensive. I sat out for a while, and once the pain and swelling went down, I went back to classes. The next week, the back of the right toenail popped up, and, after some intense discussion about surgical removal and insurance with the nurse, it fell off painlessly during repertory. The other one is actually still hanging on--just clinging to my toe, but it needs to be taped in place to avoid being painful, so I count that as "fallen off".
I read Russian with much more ease now. This does not by any means imply that I understand any of it, but the alphabet processes easily now--I can say the words on signs and labels, but I don't necessarily know what they mean. I've also picked up a few phrases--you can't not pick up a few in class; ones like "one more time" and "get ready" and "left side" and "better" and "not bad."
Lastly, and most importantly, I improved my technique drastically. I can dance on raked floors, I can perform smooth and nearly effortless double pirouettes, and people have actually commented, plainly and to my face, that I have become more flexible. I still don't always understand the epaulement or where my head ought to be for where my legs are, but I'm definitely learning the finer points of the Russian technique. I've also learned how to dance on a raked floor, and for the past week and a half, it's felt just as natural as the level floor I've been dancing on for years. This 1.) awesome, because I've adapted and grown and 2.) bad, because I must be compensating in my balance somehow, and going back to a level floor will probably feel weird.
Now I prepare for a reverse of that detailed schedule of the plane ride to Moscow--a 10 hour flight to New York, a three hour layover, and then another 5 hours before I get back to my home. I'm last minute packing. I always do this.
Comments
Post a Comment