I was expecting more African faces ... but then the tickets were very expensive. (Thank goodness mine came as a gift!) The price didn't stop rather large families from buying tickets, and a large contingent of mentally and physically handicapped people were there. One of the charities had likely donated the tickets ... and a good thing, too, because they were a wonderfully enthusiastic audience. Only the middle section was filled. Perhaps a dozen or so of the the other 2/3 of the seats were taken. Despite all that, the enthusiasm of the players was contagious.
It was a story, but the sound system or the acoustics in the tent distorted the storytelling voice, so I would be hard pressed to give you the plot line. It didn't really matter though. The strength of the production was the performance itself. In many ways it reminded me of Cirque du Soleil productions. Not quite as slick, but also filled with trapeze performances, jugglers, acrobats, singing, dancing, and infused with colour, beauty, and energy.
The costumes were usually brightly coloured and often wonderful. Monkeys with round pink and blue bums cavorted on a trampoline. There were grasshoppers whose wings were made of fragments of thin fabric held together with ropes so that they flowed realistically. The bigger- than-life zebra puppets carried by dancing players were my favourites. Their heads were realistic, but the bodies were made of thin filmy fabric with the stripes merely suggested. There were many elaborately sculpted head dresses. Lots of bright reds and yellows, the colours I associate with Africa.
Other things of note: the ten foot tall stilted men; the cheerful black dancer in an massive beehive head piece who was able to portray great indignation; and everyone's ability to get the whole audience rhythmically clapping with the djembe drums.
I think the thing that impressed me most, possibly because I am a sucker for metaphor, was the subtle way they created effects and made you suspend disbelief. In particular was a night scene in which only the fluorescence was visible; and a stormy night at sea in which a juggler almost made me see the wind-tossed waves. A juggling pair were able to create an aura of silence amidst choral music, and had slowed everything onstage down to slow motion, creating the illusion that the storm had passed.
It was a good show. If I were to judge it against Cirque du Soleil, I would put it halfway between the first and last shows I saw them perform. What this one sometimes lacked in polish it more than made up for it in personality and humanity.
After the show I drove to Marta's to spend the night. We ate and took the dogs for a walk, and then went to bed. On my pillow was the short story she had written for me for my birthday: "Vancouver Can Wait". I love it.
Saturday morning was fun. A good breakfast and then a trip to Bruce Pit. I imagined Bruce Pit to be a barren hole in the ground, but it is beautiful. Woods and paths. And the dogs had a ball playing with other dogs and racing around. Kenya met a dachshund who reminded her of the nasty one that bit her nose, but this little guy had no fear of big dogs and they got along fine.
Back at Marta's I discovered the flat tire.
I spent three hours at Canadian Tire. At first we just stayed in the car. I read and Kenya snoozed. Then, after the car went into the shop, I took Kenya for a walk in the rain, and then decided to sit quietly in the waiting room. An old lady objected so we left and sat on the cement floor in a corner of the parking area where we could see my car when it was driven out. As soon as it appeared, Kenya went back in the car and I paid the bill. The old lady's friend apologized, and I was gracious. She had more of a problem than I did. Imagine being afraid of nice dogs, especially nice, quiet, exhausted dogs who just want to collapse like rugs on the floor.
By the time I got home I was ready to collapse on the floor beside her. Just too much excitement for a hermit and her dog.
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