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RUE BARA AND THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY

At the far end of rue Bara (Bara Road), away from the marketplace square, was the warehouse that contained the studios of Monsieur B. and the Ballet of the New Millenium. It was just past the Cote D'Or chocolate factories. On Thursdays, the whole street was filled with the overpowering odor of rich, dark chocolate. The warehouse was the size of an airport hangar. Behind the thick metal doors, inside the spacious entryway, were two modern wooden structures; two smaller buildings inside the main building. The three-story structure to the left housed the canteen; and on the floors above it, the offices of Monsieur B., and a meditation room whose walls were covered with egg cartons and a feeling of serenity and solitude. The rest of the complex was anything but serenity and solitude. The larger two-story structure to the right housed the studios and rehearsal spaces of the world-renowned ballet company. The immense space behind these two buildings was filled with bits of scenery and an atelier where costumes were made and stored. The whole interior was filled with diffused sunlight from the glass panels that made up the roof. Impressive, indeed. Awesome and inspiring.

It was my first day at a new studio, a new company, and, goodness, a new country. I hoped the language would not be a problem. As it turned out, English was pretty much an international and universal language. There was always, as with many dance companies through-out Europe, the almost comical interval as directions were given in French (or any other local language); then translated as the non-Francophones gathered in small groups to translate. English over there, Flemish to the side, Italian toward the back of the studio, and a small discussion back in the corner between the two Spanish-speaking dancers. Then everyone would execute the task-at-hand in unison. It was also a good way to learn a foreign language (as I later learned with German), because it came in small bits and pieces and was very repetitive. How many times can you say "straighten" in French before it finally sinks in? We all learned *betise* early on(stupidity). And many expletives. What did *merde* mean, anyway? I heard it all the time.

The audition process had been very simple for me. I had been traveling Europe with a fellow dancer, and we happened to visit an American friend who was a member of the company. I had, at that time, taken a few ballet classes with the Ballet Master (Monsieur B. had

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