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# Gypsies in the forest: The art and ecstasy of Varekai
- URL: https://www.smdp.com/gypsies-in-the-forest-the-art-and-ecstasy-of-varekai/
- Published: 2003-11-14T16:00:00.000Z
- Updated: 2026-10-23T03:14:38.000Z
- Author: Guest Author
- Tags: local, Santa Monica, #archive-import

*By KATHERINE WECH Special to the Daily Press*

Of course I’d heard of Cirque Du Soleil. With eight shows currently running worldwide and more than 90 cities having hosted it since 1984, the name was familiar to me before my first time in the audience. Circus memories from my childhood days forged my expectations — sprawling stages, soaring tents, barkers calling from the periphery to “get your fresh popped popcorn!”

The Cirque certainly has these treasures to offer, and so, so much more.

The atmosphere under the tent is festive, like we’ve all been invited to a party and each of us is the guest of honor. Clowns amble through the aisles, squirting water guns and snatching bites of popcorn from patrons’ laps. Before us is an empty stage, except for a cluster of 300 bamboo-esque “trees” lining the rear. From this surreal, acrobatic forest, a host of brightly clad creatures emerges, tongues flicking, eyes bulging. And then the lights dim.

The brilliance of the “animals” on stage is soon eclipsed by Icarus, a man dressed all in white who drops from above entwined in a net. He hangs in mid-air, writhing like a caterpillar in metamorphoses, impossibly secure in the net that holds him, despite the lack of one beneath him. Before long, he is earthbound and enraptured by Olga, a forest creature — part pixie, part dragonfly, part something not of this world. But we are no longer in our world. This is Varekai, a gypsy word meaning “wherever,” and we must surrender our senses as the magic unfolds and the drums begin to beat.

Though each act is intended to stand alone, they weave together to tell a love story in undulations and explosions. Flyers grasp hands and soar above, acrobats tumble and land with impossible precision on each other’s shoulders and feet. A woman performs a lyrical dance on a hoop 30 feet above. People hang from swings, ropes, trapeze bars and each other. How something so intense also can be so lighthearted is the noble work of the clowns, the magicians and the jugglers, whose display of control, timing and concentration so impressed us we hardly dared to applaud and risk disturbing them. However, if we refrained, they’d likely scold us for holding back. This is a story about the freedom that grows out of playfulness and passion. There is no room for restraint.

Ultimately, despite what I thought I might know about the Cirque, it is a living experience, still connected to its street-performing roots, but also a highly professional, polished demonstration of expertise and strength. Watching from below, I wanted to touch the bodies of the exquisite creatures, to know that such beauty is real. I wanted to learn to juggle. I wanted to dance. This show reminded me of what being alive is supposed to feel like. It’s an active pursuit of joy, and joy is what fills the tent at the end of the glorious celebration, as I shuffle out elated, to return to our lives, Varekai.

![](https://storage.ghost.io/c/55/9f/559f9abc-8372-4a2e-8c2d-27386da4e363/content/images/2026/10/111403-17_01.jpg)

(Photo: Special to the Daily Press)

*Originally published in the Santa Monica Daily Press print edition on November 14, 2003.* [Read the original PDF.](https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/smdp%5Fbackissues/111403.pdf?ref=smdp.com)