Tanzsommer 
 
 
 

      We sat in the steamy studio, all of us, unsure of why we were called together.

      “I have some exciting news,” Ms. Corrine announced. “We, the Berkeley Ballet Theater Youth Company, have been invited to perform in Europe at the Tanzsommer Dance Festival.” Everyone gawked, BBT was not a professional company, nor were we well known. We were small and had no money. Our productions were never big. “I am extremely excited about this invitation; however, it will be a large expense for us to send the entire Youth Company to Europe and because of this we will not be taking everyone.” Again, everyone’s jaws dropped. The news had just taken the turn I had thought it would take. I was not fully in the Youth Company. I was not in high school, nor in level seven; my chances of Europe seemed doubtful. I glanced around the room to find Amanda’s face, Jennifer’s face and the few others who were in the same place as I was. Their faces, too, showed little hope. Yet the news seemed too exciting for me to get mopey about. Even if I couldn’t go, I thought, this was a great opportunity for BBT and I would help in anyway I could. And I did. I fundraised, performed in a pre Europe show and continued to be just as excited as everyone else. Months later the first Tanzsommer meeting rolled around and I was not informed to come. I watched through the peephole of the studio A door as the older girls sat in the same steamy studio, eyes excited with opportunity and adventure. And then a few more months rolled by.

      I woke up early for Saturday morning ballet. I was groggy and somewhat disoriented as I arrived at BBT. I climbed up the steps to the lobby, my bag, full of weekend homework and millions of pairs of pointe shoes, weighing me down. Entering the studio I noticed Ms. Corrine in the corner by the piano talking to Jennifer and Amanda, who with bags still in hand, I believed had just arrived. Ms. Corrine threw a glance at me when she heard the door squeak shut. “Fennis,” she half whispered, half shouted; I could tell she was excited about the news she was about to break…and I had an idea of what I wished it would be, “Can you come talk to me?” I nodded, dropped my bag and walked over. I was definitely waking up. “So,” Ms. Corrine continued, “Ms. Sarah and Ms. Sonya and I have been thinking a lot about this and came to the conclusion that we want to perform Au Pas at the Tanzsommer festival this summer.” She paused. “This would mean you and Jennifer and Amanda would be performing at the festival if you are able to come; how do you feel about that?” My eyes shot around to Amanda who was looking at Jennifer and Jennifer looked at me, about ready to burst.

      “Uhhhh.” We said in unison and then one at a time, in a circle, we all expressed how excited we were to be invited and how we would talk to our parents. Ms. Corrine thanked us and told us there was a Tanzsommer meeting next Saturday before Sally’s class. Turning to leave, she smiled and whispered,

      “I’m really proud of you guys.”

      During plies I snuck a peek at Amanda. She was working hard, as was I. The invitation had been just the motivation I had needed to trash my groggy state and work hard in a Saturday morning class. Grand Plie, Porte Bra, and Amanda looked up and caught my eye. We smiled so hard at each other, Rudy, the pianist noticed and smiled with us for laughs. My class that day was great. Ms. Sally told me to go in the first group for Grande Allegro and even complemented me during Adagio.

      On the last day of eighth grade I was more excited about the fact that I had a week of full day rehearsals starting immediately, than the fact that it was the last day of school and I was finally going to be in high school.

      I arrived at BBT at 8:30 on the first Monday of summer. I was there early, but so was everyone else, warming up and anticipating the long rehearsal. Despite the rigorous hours, we were in for a lot of fun.

      Rehearsals dragged on for a week. They were mostly all day, but once and a while Amanda and I would walk to Telegraph Avenue on our break and do some pre-Tanzsommer shopping. We bought matching pants and sweatshirts and numerous other trip necessities. Everything was for Tanszommer. On the last day of rehearsal Amanda and I finished the day off with our last bit of Telegraph shopping, got on the 51 bus and headed towards my house. Our goal: to begin packing my suitcase. We didn’t leave till Tuesday and it was only Saturday but neither of us could hold our horses.

      Tuesday rounded the corner quickly, though. I got up early Tuesday morning, my alarm ringing at 6:00am. My eyes were crusty from sleep and, again, I was groggy, until I remembered today wasn’t just rehearsal.  Today I got on a plane to Austria. I was going to Europe with my best friends and I’d be doing my favorite thing in the world to do, dance.

      I arrived at the SFO a few hours later, meeting my friends in the entrance of the United Airlines terminal. The excitement of all the girls was overwhelming but exciting, nonetheless. We compared luggage and carry on bag size, our ticket seats, discussed changes and plans to move so we could all sit together, and listed off the magazines and books we brought for the plane ride. Amanda had pointe shoes to sew, as did a lot of other girls, so we jabbered about that as well. Our parents tried to keep our attention, reminding us constantly of how much they would miss us and to call them everyday, but we were too tired and excited to give them full attention and nodded again and again to pretend we actually cared.

      Finally we were all settled on the plane and already falling back into sleep. The plane engine hummed and you could hear the quiet noise of people’s television sets playing movies or TV shows. Kids whined and chattered and people snored, the noise of the cabin was endless but subdued. However, the plane ride seemed to last for hours longer then we anticipated, and it was only our first of two flights. Next on our itinerary was a second flight, this time only three-hour s long and then a five-hour bus ride through Germany, to Innsbruck, Austria.

      The bus pulled into the loading zone in front of The Central, the hotel we were to stay in. Our clothes were wrinkled and stiff from our journey and I felt parched and still tired, despite the fact I had been sleeping most of the time.  It was 6:15; dinner was to be served immediately. Jennifer and I ran to find out hotel room and claim our beds. 605. Our room was perfect. It had two little beds, a refrigerator, a table and chairs and an amazing view. The window looked out to a little schoolhouse with a clock tower. The street was picturesque, with little European cars and trees lining the sidewalk, and cobblestone streets. I was content.

      “Fen.” Jennifer tapped me on the shoulder, reminding me it was dinnertime. We headed downstairs to the dining room. It was picturesque too. All of us ballerinas sat at little tables by a big window that looked out onto a cobblestone street and beyond. We ate rich food and drank coffee even though it was dinnertime.

      I rolled over in my bed to face Jennifer. Her bed was against the other wall, but I could see her perfectly. She was still sleeping. I peeled the covers off my sweaty body and tiptoed to our bathroom. The clock on the counter was set to military time. Confused, I checked my own watch. 5:23am. It was early, but I was awake and ready. I was ready to explore.

      “Jennifer,” came my uncontrolled whisper, “wake up!” She turned in her bed and grunted, each eye opening separately, as if to try and stay asleep longer. But as soon as she had adjusted to the light, she popped up in bed. She was equally as ready as I was for the day.

      Our first show in Innsbruck was nerve-racking. We had all of two hours to rehearse and set the piece to the stage. We all rubbed our eyes and tried to hold back complaints of tiredness. Our lines were messy, as was our appearance, regardless of how hard we may have worked to look presentable. The truth was we were jet lagged and had never performed under such conditions. Yet our performance that night was magnificent. The theater seats burst with enthusiasm from Austrians that had no connection with us but the love of dance. I focused on the back of the audience like I always did. But this time I was curious to see the audience, not nervous. I snuck a peek.

      We thrust off our gloves onto the stage. My body shook with excitement and pleasure. 5, 6, 7, 8. Our first performance was over. I held the sweaty hands of my friends as we bowed again and again to our standing and clapping audience. To the left of me was Jennifer, her stage make up was dewy with sweat and her chest rose and fell as we stood there smiling to the unknown. Yet, despite our tiredness, our jet lagged state, we had the energy to reward ourselves for our good work. Putting on our street clothes and exiting our dressing room, Jennifer and I rounded the corner to the nearest gelato stand. I got melon and she got something chocolaty. We walked through the streets, crowded with people, families mostly. We stopped into an apothecary that was still open even though it was past dinnertime. We looked at a souvenir shop and a shop full of Austrian goodies and candy.

      St. Johann was next on our itinerary. St. Johann was smaller. It seemed less European and much more Austrian. We had more time here to rest and relax and enjoy the wonders of our trip. We were no longer jet lagged and tired. We played in a water park in St. Johann, where all the little boys would slide down the big slides bare butt to go faster, so the American ballerina girls joined in. We took a trolley up a mountain and hiked back down. We watched children perform traditional Austrian dances for us. Our first show in St. Johann was in the town square, outside on a big stage. It poured so heavily that afternoon that we thought the performance would be cancelled. But it wasn’t. The rain didn’t seem to stop the audience from arriving. They came in packs, huddled together, with big colorful umbrellas. Our show went on. I looked out from the stage to a group of umbrellas. It was like nothing I had ever performed to before.

      On our way to Vienna we stopped at a castle in a small town to perform for school groups. We took warm up class in the dungeon of the castle. The ceilings were low and all the doorways were big archways. We didn’t have barres to hold on too or marley on the floor so we wouldn’t slip. But we managed.

      Our last show was in Vienna. Vienna was very different from the other places we had been. There was trash on the sidewalk and big malls surrounding streets with double lanes of traffic. Everywhere one looked there was an H&M. But past all that, in the center of the crowded part of the city, there was a huge gothic church. It was taller then most of the stores and its architecture was like things I’d only seen in pictures. The outside was blackish from the city soot, but the inside was pristine. It was cold but at the same time the artful crafting of the building made it warm to me. And we were to perform right outside this dramatic church. Our last performance was our best. The stage was saggy with our weight. We had no dressing rooms. We had no wings or curtains. But our performance was an accumulation of the fun we had in Austria. As we danced we bubbled with memories of Innsbruck, St. Johann, our day trip to Venice. The bright light of the day pounded down on us, and the audience was simply those who stopped to watch. However, they seemed to be blown away.

      That night, back at our hotel in Vienna, I sat with Jennifer and Amanda in our room. We took everything out of our drawers and out bags and out suitcases. We started from scratch. We folded our shirts and our pants, our tights and leotards. We packed our trip up to take home to America; to take home to BBT. My bag was bigger now. It held purchases, memories and keepsakes.

      I slept the whole 16 hours home. Nest to me were my closest of friends, sleeping just as soundly.

      Tanzsommer built the bond that I have with my friends now. Arriving back in Berkeley that summer, I spent the majority of my time with the same group of girls, dancing, hanging out and reminiscing. As well as that, Berkeley Ballet Theatre grew stronger and confident and happier from this trip. And I myself, finally felt appreciated for all the hard work I put into BBT. The first “Fennis…can you come talk to me?” from Ms. Corinne, would be something I always remembered.