Last night I went out. Can you dig it? This is rare for me. I went out with three hot girls in order to watch other hot girls dance. And to eat several plates of cheese. It was a grand time.
So since my Wednesday bellydance class is no longer around, I have switched to taking a Monday night class with a teacher, Sharon, I’ve known and liked for a while. She is extremely cute and talented and is an excellent teacher. She teaches Tribal Style bellydance, which I believe I’ve mentioned before…there’s a vocabulary of steps and cues, and you dance with several other dancers. It’s all improvised, in the same way swing dance is improvised…you and your partner know the steps and you just put them together in time to the music. Same with tribal…the leader is out in front and she cues the step and the followers follow and then when the leader is done they circle around and someone new gets in front and leads and so on and so forth. The great thing about this is that it doesn’t look improvised but instead looks totally choreographed. You might never know they were making it up as they went along if you didn’t know what to look for. I’ve never performed in a tribal troupe and in fact don’t know much about the style at all, but I’ve practiced a little in various classes and it’s super hard and super fun. Plus the costuming is luscious and the music is fantastic. All in all a very good thing, both to do and to watch.
A couple of months ago, I took Sharon’s beginning tribal class with Mrs. Roboto and her friend and co-conspirator Judy. This was great fun. We were thrilled to learn that Sharon’s troupe, inFusion was going to be performing at a very cool place on Capitol Hill, to which, naturally, I’d never been. That’s how cool it was; I’d never heard of it! Anyway, Mrs. Roboto, Judy, and Judy’s friend from Australia, Heather, all piled into a Jeep and headed out there last night. Skirts were short and shoes were cute. We’d already taken the precaution of looking at the menu online and were reasonably confident that good yummy food was in our immediate futures. As a bonus, I didn’t have to drive but did finally get to see Mrs. R’s house, including the famous couch. It’s more than I dreamed it would be. I also got to meet Judy’s husband briefly, who waved goodbye cheerfully as he was canning tomatoes and making delicious homemade applesauce. Quite a catch you have there, Judy. I am now in the market for just such a husband…a husband who comes with his own canned goods!..in case anyone knows where I can pick one of those up. I did not let that keep me from my path, though, my path that led me to beautiful dancing women and delicious plates of cheese.
The dancing started at eight and we had a very good seat right next to the dance floor…by which I mean, of course, “the spot where there weren’t any tables.” We also happened to be sitting by some members of the troupe who weren’t performing that night, one of whom I know from my Monday night class. This was very exciting. I felt all cool because I knew them! Also I felt a bit of a groupie but I didn’t have time to think about that because all of a sudden my thoughts were heading more in the direction of “Boy, I love marinated goat cheese! And bread! And a ten dollar crab cake! And more bread! And olives! And cheese!” Plus the dinner conversation was so witty and fun that I was absorbed in it pretty well. And then a song I know from class (but sadly don’t know what it is or what it’s called or who does it or anything) came on and then the dancers came out and then I was busy watching them.
I haven’t seen much bellydance performance at all, and I certainly had never seen this troupe perform, even though I had some idea of what to expect. They were wonderful. The costumes were lovely and amazing. Tribal dancers tend to have crazy hair and big skirts with embroidered belts and tassels and fringes and beads and coin chains, and they wear gorgeous Indian cholis with big crazy jewelry all over the place, and these, of course, did not disappoint. I absolutely love this style, even though I don’t have enough gear to do it myself. It’s so rich and gorgeous…none of this understated neutral nonsense. And of course the dancing was fabulous as well. I noticed some pickier details like their transition from leader to leader and also the excellent arm work. I kept leaning over to Mrs. Roboto and going “See their arms? That’s really hard. See how they’re putting a shimmy on top of the undulation? That’s really hard. Oh, man, look at that thing they did with the backs! That’s really hard.” Everything is hard for me. Dancing is hard, and that’s what makes it so amazing when you see people who are really good at it and make it look easy and natural. Sigh. I am so in love.
There seemed to be nothing for it but to order several more appetizers, all of which involved cheese in some way. Here was the conversation I had with the long-suffering waiter:
Chiara: Okay, we’d like the dates with cheese and arugula, please.
Waiter: Dates with cheese and arugula.
Chiara: And the three-cheese plate.
Waiter: Three cheese plate.
Chiara: And I think we’re going to need another one of those marinated goat cheese things.
Waiter: [rolls eyes]
Chiara: In fact, whatever cheese you have, just bring it over here, okay?
Judy and Heather have traveled a lot…they met each other in Prague, how great is that…and they were telling various adventures they’d had. Heather told us the following story, which I am now going to steal for my own purposes. I am warning you all now. Here goes.
So, apparently Heather was traveling in Italy by herself one time, and beginning to feel a little lonely. She sadly took herself to Capri and looked at the Blue Grotto and everything but still couldn’t shake that sad loneliness. Poor Heather. Fortunately for her, there were many accommodatingly charming Italian men (one can only imagine they were buzzing around on Vespas, al “prrrrrrronto!” with their cells) offering her rides and whatnot. After some reflection she accepted a ride with one of them and spent the rest of day touring around in a boat and having a wonderful time.
Heather reported that her Italian swain had put some very obvious moves on her, to which she had mainly paid no attention, at several junctures. They ended up at a beautiful island, where the stars were shining and all was romantic loveliness. She said she’d seldom seen anything so gorgeous. Her escort thought he’d never seen anything so gorgeous as Heather and thus proceeded to slip her the old lizard tongue. You know the lizard tongue. Remember that guy on your hall your freshman year, the one who had a lot of candles in his room and played hacky sack and he liked lasers? That’s lizard tongue right there. And you know as well as I do that lizard tongue is no way to convince anyone to throw down…such is the horrifying force of lizard tongue that it completely negates a) being in Italy, b) being in Italy on a lovely Italian island with the stars shining above and c) being in Italy on an Italian island with an Italian man. Now, Heather, having the good taste that she did, decided that lizard tongue was too much and that there would be no more ventures in that direction. However, she wanted to let her reptilian suitor down gently. Therefore, in consideration of their language barriers, she attempted to mime, “I have a broken heart” by tracing a heart in the air and then making a motion as if she was breaking something in two. Sorry, Signore Lucertola. My heart, it is fragile. It is not meant to be. So sad.
Lucertola (that’s lizard in Italian, you see), however, was having a difficult time grasping the significance of that last gesture. His brow knitted in concentration, he finally saw the light. “CORONARY BYPASS!” he yelled.
He thought she’d had heart surgery and that was why she didn’t want to make sweet, sweet love. Because it would be so strenuous, so athletic, so aerobic, that she would just keel over. “Coronary bypass!” Now, can you beat that story? I don’t know if you can. I certainly can’t, which is why I must steal it immediately.
I must also give you the following advice: start taking a bellydance class immediately. Definitely wear your cute shoes when you are going out with girls. Boys…even your boyfriend that you love dearly…are likely not going to want to hear about how you got the Kenneth Coles on sale anyway. Bring singles to tip the dancers with…it’s not that kind of tipping, they have a basket they bring around, but bring some anyway. Make sure your going-out menu is based primarily on cheese. And last but not least, make sure that whenever you go out on the town you bring at least three hot girls with you. Make sure that their hotness is the least of their charms…if they can be smart, funny, and well-traveled, so much the better.
Also I feel you should all know I’m going to be a professional bellydancer when I grow up. Oh, and definitely use the coronary bypass thing.