Cirque Dreams Jungle Fantasy and food

I hesitate to transcribe this experience because of the sheer strangeness of it that hasn't coalesced into a coherent whole for me - and, by the nature of its compounding ingredients, I don't think it will ever coalesce. So, with a bit of trepidation, I continue.

The first night on board the Breakaway, we were to join together as a family and fill a 14 person reservation in the Spiegel Tent restaurant and performance area. The night's entertainment was to be a performance of Cirque Dreams Jungle Fantasy - featuring aerialists, jugglers, contortionists, and musicians, completely unrelated to the Cirque du Soleil of such wild fame (and there are trademark disputes over use of the term 'Cirque', which is ridiculous, as it's just French for circus). A three course set menu was provided, along with special options for differences of dietary opinion or requirement.

(First symptoms of 'allergies' arise here - something to remember for later.)

First impressions: the servers looked pretty ridiculous. Garbed in bright feathers from head to toe, sporting a layered feather-headdress that would make Chicken Little jealous. I couldn't take them seriously, and it took almost physical effort to treat the waiting staff civilly (especially when more distractions were to come from center stage).

(They looked somewhat like this - credit to Amadeus (1984))

Note: no further pictures were taken, as photography was prohibited. 

The show began with exaggerated, simple motions: a jungle explorer (decked out in typical pith helmet and the tan army surplus) hears a strange creature and goes exploring, only to fall into a menagerie of strangeness. The costumes were ornate and fascinating to the point of distraction, and there weren't built in pauses or breaks for food to happen. This was especially true for one of the first acts, in which a magical frame transforms both the jungle explorer and his prey into a variety of lavish costumes - instantaneously.

I'll go on to describe more of what I saw, but I have to add this in: I was starving, and I knew that, with a set menu, I would probably have little to no choice concerning what I was about to put in my body if I wanted to have a full stomach. The first course came: a little piece of tender meat surrounded by potato wedges and a few sprigs of broccoli. Meat and broccoli down - while straining my neck to see the show and poking at my plate blind - I left the potatoes for the servers.

Each course was incredibly understated - typical high-restaurant style (small servings of what is meant to be excellent food) - but I kept getting the impression that the food was really just small versions of what could have been larger in other restaurants at the same price. Not high dining.

A contortionist - was that a little belly he revealed there on his open midriff? - began with flamboyant dancing between courses. A bottle of wine that Nate and Maria bought came out, and we poured out some glasses. An awkward moment arose - distractions, everywhere - when a couple came late to take the unoccupied seats beside the leftovers of our party (no 14-seat tables to see the performance, so 10 on one and 4 on the other had to do).

No, sorry, the bottle of wine is ours, not the table's. Awkward distractions. My goodness, she's a vapid thing. And those accents (don't judge, don't judge). They're fine, they're just watching. Yes, it's a set menu. Yes, it's too bad.

OK - don't even care, let them be themselves, I'm watching the show.

The contortionist had finished his arm waving (yes, that's nice and pretty, but what does it mean?) and had begun the first motions of his real routine. His arms supported him as he bent his whole frame backwards and over his foundation. Nicely done, chap! Aaand you didn't need to use that arm after all? Pivot the weight over and balance with the free hand, yes, and - well done!

Here, I started a random round of clapping and his intro finished. The awkwardness of realizing that what he was doing was pretty dang amazing and no one was shelling out appreciation stunned me. Do I accept his excellence in silence? Can't they see him questing out for response from the crowd? These guys live for that. Give a little, people.

The contortionist brought out a pair of staves, which he thrust into holes invisible to the audience. His routine continued similarly, except there was obvious effort to balance his not inconsiderable frame on top of these posts. A waver (are you faking? Good for you!), a pulse, and then - there it is again, balancing his entire frame on the single staff, but this time stretching the legs out farther over himself and reaching just a little more outwards as if to snatch an audience member.

Polite applause. Seeing where this was going, I wondered how many staves he had up his sleeve.

It turns out, he had four more. The trick of the performance wasn't the act itself, which was repeated, but the fact that, each time, his center had to be more precise, and weight placement and accuracy using tiring muscles that much more refined. The last pair was mounted; his weight shifted to a wavering center; the waver continued, was exaggerated – and he held.

Simply wonderful.

Throughout all of this, I realized I’d made audible cries of astonishment and even tried starting a couple claps prematurely, but who cares. I ate it up.

I wanted to concentrate on this fellow here because his performance was akin to many of the others.

I may have omitted or forgotten: a brief seafood salad may have started us or taken place second in the food courses – it was not memorable however, as the show dominated all.

The juggler/hostess who led many of the transitions – almost akin to the little spirit in the Flatley performances – had her own performance, in which she gained audience sympathies by making a mistake on the final and hardest portion of her performance. She continued on admirably – even completing the maneuver – but the beat of the performance was lost for a bit. A lovely job all the same. I would see her later on in the cruise, though never a spoken word or brief glance was exchanged.

The final acts – a two-man team of acrobats, the stockier of which kicked the other into flips (and probably crushed the virility out of him several times over); a small but smiley woman who could flip tables and chairs and spin pieces of cloth with her dexterous feet; an amazingly well-etched man who did astonishing flipping and twirling things on a net that fell and rose on command – blurred into the night as I fought myself from eating my dessert: three exquisite little morsels side-by-side that I struggled to avoid, only to taste each in turn and find disappointment.

The night ended in polite applause. The lights rose up. And that was all.