SENT HOME FROM SCHOOL

Well, it was bound to happen, I suppose. There is a reason that Lion King has a bit of a reputation for damaging it's performers. (Hence the fact that every production has an on-staff physiotherapist). The awkward costumes, the raked stage, the repetitive, unusual movements, it all takes it's toll when multiplied times eight, week, after week, after week.


In my case, it all started with, what seemed at the time, a rather benign stumble. During last Sunday's matinee performance, I tripped over an ill-placed hyena (something you'll never hear said outside of the theatre or a game preserve) and went down, hard, on my knees. It hurt, but I knew nothing was broken, and since it was the final scene of the show, I made the fall part of the moment and kept going. After the show, Emma (our Physio-Goddess) examined me and said that basically, I'd just given my knee (left one in particular) a good bash, and with some ice and a few days, it should be fine.


That may be the case in normal life, but not in The Lion King. Through the rest of the weekend, and the shows the following week, my knee was aching by the end of every show, and was particularly painful when going up and down stairs, which I do constantly in the show. Emma's daily treatments helped, but didn't cure the problem. By Friday, we were both growing concerned. Emma diagnosed that, given my physical activity in the show, the knee simply wasn't getting it's chance to heal. And so she began negotiations to take me out of the show.


I tried to convince her not to for a variety of reasons,(bear in mind that I did tech-week of "The Drowsy Chaperone" with Swine Flu !!!) but Emma's logic was sound. She believed that to do two, two-show days in a row would only damage me further and increase the possibility of taking me out for a full week. The decision was made to take me out of the weekend, double-show days, giving said knee a full three days of recovery/rest. (And making Emma oh-so-popular with management) So, here I sit, with an ice pack on my knee, missing my pride and wondering what moment of the show is happening without me.

My life for the next few days
reduced from this...
...to this...

On the up-side, Emma did prescribe, as part of my therapy, that tomorrow, I should head up to the swimming pool, prop myself in a corner and pretend I'm riding an underwater bicycle. Who am I to disobey a direct order like this?


And just for additional levity, we discovered the other night, by accident, that when my wig is on backwards, I look just like Professor Snape.

SIT OUT

I'm such an idiot. I completely forgot one of the main topics, one of the main reasons, for my last blog post because I got so carried away rambling on about cherries, dragonflies and Bintan.

I finally had my 'sit-out' one Saturday matinee not too long ago. This means that James, my first cover, goes on in my role and I get to sit in the audience and watch the show. This gives him a chance to actually do the show with an audience, and gives me a chance to see the show from out front, like a real person.


It was an intense and moving experience for me. Of course we all want the shows we're in to be good (and we know when they're not!), but I sat there thinking, "This IS good. This is a really, really good show". In fact, it's such a good show that I realized at one point that I had forgotten that I knew all the people on stage. It wasn't Andrew and Puleng up there performing, it was Simba and Nala telling me a story that I was totally wrapped up in. And, as usual for me, I was constantly amazed, overwhelmed, humbled and moved by the incredible talent, passion and beauty emanating from the stage, ...which caused me to weep every 20 minutes.

Overall, it was thrilling, and such a good reminder of what it feels like to sit in the dark and watch this epic, this magic unfold before your eyes. My performance that night had a whole new energy and life to it.

Thank you, Lion King company, for an exhilarating afternoon. I won't forget it.

TAXI !!!!

I had the most eccentric taxi driver in Singapore the other day. I'm standing at the taxi stand, and a tired looking, mint green taxi starts to veer toward me. I think I'm hallucinating at first, but as it nears, it becomes clear that it has Texas longhorns mounted on it's front grill. Driving the taxi is an Indian man, sporting a cowboy hat atop a bushy head of black curly hair, streaked with grey. He is also wearing a bolo tie on his crisp, white shirt. (Secretly, I'm also hoping that he was wearing cowboy boots.) I also can't help but notice the Confederate flag on his dashboard. Unlike most Singapore cabbies, this one is chatty. In my 7 minute trip with him, I learn that he is a retired structural engineer who now drives a taxi and occasionally teaches mathematics for fun. He is married to a Chinese woman. He speaks Mandarin, Hokkien, Malay, and two different Indian dialects. Oh, and his name is Tony !



Though our ticket sales have slowed a little, the show is still selling 1,200 tickets a day and more than 215,000 people have passed through the doors to find their inner hakuna matata. The biggest surprise is that 85% of those people are Singaporeans. A surprise because the producers thought there would be a bigger percentage of tourists. Still, good news for us, who ever the bums in the seats are. Apparently, Marina Bay Sands is selling a lot of room/show packages to Singaporeans who like the idea of the 'stay-cation'. No passports, no airports, just check into MBS for the weekend and hang out. Not my idea of a getaway but ....

And speaking of getaway....

Lyall and I headed back to Bintan, Indonesia
for a quick, overnight fix of tranquility

I know there are always people who are
grossed out by food with eyes,
but this fish was so perfectly cooked
that it melted like butter in the mouth !

We were unimpressed that first class was full
on the ferry home and we had to travel with
the great unwashed in steerage.

I texted Tim and asked him if he had any cream
for a middle-class rash.
He said he usually just wears a condom.

Our dresser, Anuar, recently spent a week in Surabaya, Indonesia. This meant that someone had to be trained to deal with the complications of the Scar costume. (Or as Anuar calls it, the Scars costume. I'm always referred to in the plural for some reason. Mind you, this is also the man who left a note telling us that he used our bathroom to take a showel). The entertaining and slightly sassy Alfri covered for Anuar and only had two days to learn how to deal with all the mechanical of my costume. So, upon returning from makeup one night, I was greeted with this...

Alfri in my costume

Anuar thought that the best way to show Alfri how it feels if anything is wrong is to make him wear the costume. I only found out later that, because of the short amount of time to teach him the track, Alfri practiced by using Anuar as a stand in for me.

The shorter, Malay version of Scar

Singapore's National Day, which celebrates their independence from Indonesia, is on August 9th. We've been watching a huge, multi-level, steel stage being constructed at the floating stadium near our theatre. The work has been going on for months.
They've also started rehearsals for the grand spectacle that will take place with a cast of thousands. Getting to work for Saturday matinees will be hell until it's all over since the main approach road that we all use is blocked off for these rehearsals. Not to mention the swarming masses of people.

And here's a photo that will make anyone living in Niagara or B.C. cringe

That's CDN $18.13 by today's exchange rate !

You'll have to enlarge the next photo to really see it properly. It's my favourite tree on our pool deck. The deck and chairs often look like a deranged flower-girl has gone on a spree because it drops it's delicate pink blossoms everywhere. The thing I really like about it though is the fact that it's always swarming with dragonflies who are attracted to it's flowers.