Cats: miscellanea|
What I did over Memorial Day Weekend Settle in, it’s a long one.
A weekend with the chicks.
I had occasion to travel to the Belly Dancer of the Year Pageant in Alameda. We left on Friday, returned home Sunday. The reason? Dearest Pat, with whom I dance in the Ananka Dance Company, competed in the Grand Dancer category.
There was NO way I was going to miss that. I had considered going anyway, but was sort of waffling on the idea until she announced she would be competing. Then I just HAD to go. There was no way I was going to miss it.
So…we went. Friday was great good fun. There were five of us, and we arrived at the hotel somewhat exhausted from the day and the drive, but starving. So we ask the guy at the desk about good places to eat. He suggests a few, and we settle on The Pasta Pelican. After some confusing directions, in a moderately intelligible Indian accent (“Yoo mus go beHIND de toob.” “Behind the tube?” We say, bewildered as to what a tube is… “Yes. Yoo go beHIND de toob, or yoo will go to Oakland in de toob. Yoo do not want to go to Oakland.”), we set off into the darkness of Alameda. The directions given to get there were actually fairly simple and straightforward, once we understood that “de toob” was a tunnel that connected Alameda with Oakland on the other side of the bay inlet thingy. He was right. We did not want to go to Oakland. We wanted to go to food, because we were starving.
So, it’s nearing 9 p.m., and we’re driving through what looks to be a waterfront/industrial sort of area. We get to where we can SEE the water…and the only option we have is to turn in behind this chain link fence where we can see all sorts of boats at a dock. We’re thinking, “Are we supposed to be here? Is this private property?” It wasn’t…the restaurant is ON the water, literally, back behind the parking lot that serves it and, I guess, all the boats moored there.
We fell in love with the place before we even went in. It’s an old, sort of weathered looking building, on stilts, in the water, that is reached by walking over a bouncy wooden bridge. And when you get inside, the view out the windows it gorgeous, especially at night. You can see a bridge, I think maybe the Golden Gate, and SF, off in the distance, and nearer, you can see what I THINK is Oakland and it’s tall buildings and lights. Additionally, the food was wonderful. I rarely am tempted to mop up remaining pasta sauce once the heart of the entree is gone. With this stuff, I nearly licked my plate. (I didn’t, of course.)
We had conversation, a few of us had wine, we had good food, and we were in an ebullient, effusive, jovial mood. And Pat was nervous.
The ride back to the hotel was entertaining, with Lisa and I speaking almost exclusively in various accents as we got lost on the way. You see, ‘beHIND de toob’ only goes one way, so we had to find an alternate route back. The one we did find involved driving through what I believe was Alameda community college. It was a nice tour, despite what the others in the car thought. We managed. We returned safely, and with a better understanding of the ‘hood. Lisa and I are in agreement, you know, we like to get a taste of the local flavor of our surroundings.
At 10p.m.
Along the waterfront.
But we lived. And Pat was nervous.
Saturday.
Wake up, eat marginally interesting breakfast in hotel lobby. (Pat has already awakened and run through her routine repeatedly. She’s not dancing until Sunday.) Return to room and brush teeth. Pile in car and head down to Auctions By the Bay Theater. (Also an interesting place to find. Well, no, actually it was easy to find…once you realize that yes, you do indeed have to go through a guard gate of what was once Alameda Naval base, and into the grounds.)
We parked. We went in. We shopped. (Oh, my, did I shop. I am a very, very, bad girl.)I bought some things from Dhyanis (some cool pants with matching hip tie and top that are not shown on her web site), a thing or two from Judeen (also things not shown on her web site…a beaded tribal Turkoman belt, a unique skirt and vest set… she always has beautiful, unique things…), a lovely silk half circle veil in red and black from Aneena, and a couple costuming books (that will do me no good, since I don’t much sew, but they’re interesting and informative).
We find out that Una will be competing in the Grand Dancer category on Sunday as well. My comment to Pat: “Well, guess the pressure’s off, then.” The reason…Una is Una. The woman could step out on stage and shimmy a little and win, she’s just that good. My personal feeling was that I was excited to see her dance again. I always enjoy Una’s performances, and I’d very much like to be her when I grow up as a dancer.
Then the competition started. All day Saturday was a parade of 24 lovely dancers vying for the title of Belly Dancer of the Year. (Well, 23 and one girl whose motives and training I question deeply.)I can hardly remember all the dancers I saw, but they were all very good. Some better than others, but the quality of dancing, in general, was just phenomenal.
Except the one. Oh my. This young woman… Well, alright. She was pretty. Blonde, possible bottle blonde, maybe not. Young, athletically toned, not buxom by any means, and certainly not what I’ve come to associate with the ideal belly dancer body (full and rounded, not taut and angular). She was definitely, though, what men would look at and say, “Yep, she’s cute.” And with what she was wearing they’d say, “Yep, she’s hot.” Or maybe not. I’m not a guy, so I’m not sure.
What she was wearing: A small black…sports-bra-like top, a pair of bright orange hot pants, and over that, a waistband of gold sequins from which hung sheer strips of black fabric that did nothing aesthetically for her outfit. (Or lack thereof.) Really, she wasn’t too revealing in dress, it just wasn’t at all alluring or enhancing of her beauty, nor did it enhance her movement as so many belly dancers prefer to have their costumes do. When you get down to it, it just looked sort of cheap and tawdry.
But this, really, could have been overlooked. I had seen her before she danced, wandering around, and having looked at her attire thought maybe she was one of those ‘belly dance groupie’ types that really don’t know about how to costume for it. And giving the benefit of the doubt, maybe she couldn’t afford the expense of even a semi-professional looking outfit. (Though I could pull together something at least a LITTLE more appropriate to the dance for less than $100.)
So, maybe she could be forgiven for the outfit.
Or so I thought, until she walked on stage, turned her back to the audience, bent over with her little orange bottom in the air, ARRANGED the strips of the skirt so it did not cover, but FRAMED that backside, flipped all her hair forward over her head…and posed just so until the music started.
And then the music started.
From slapping her ass and shooting upright, to the horrendous pelvic shimmying and thrusting, the poorly executed approximations of what my friends and I could not agree were actual accepted middle eastern dance movements, the cheerleader style kicks, the gyrating on her knees on the floor, and the vapid smile she wore throughout, the succession of thoughts that went through all our heads (and out some of our mouths) were all underlay by one thing: Incredulity.
A sampling of some of our thoughts and comments (LJ, Cat, Pat and I hissing quietly back and forth) during her performance:
“She has no idea what she’s doing…what IS she doing here?” “This is a joke, this has to be a joke. It’s a joke, right?” “Oh my GOD! She just…that was the money shot for sure!” “She needs to not open her legs up like that on her kicks…” “This girl must be a stripper.” “SOMEbody got hold of the WRONG instructional video.” “Does she even know where she is? Does she have a clue what this event is about?” “Did she not watch ANY of the dancers before her? I’m embarrassed for her.” “Oh, God, this is painful.” “I can’t watch…did she just…”
It was like a train wreck. 90% of the audience sat in utter silence. This is unusual for a belly dancing audience, especially one filled with dancers. We’re generally a noisy and appreciative group. We clap, we zaghareet when we see something we like, we shout exclamations of approval and encouragement. The theatre was silent as a tomb, except for the occasional susurrus of whispers. (Most likely saying EXACTLY what my friends and I were saying and thinking.)
To top it off, after what could only be termed her ridiculous display…she STAYED, to be photographed with the other REAL dancers on stage before they announced the ten finalists who’d be dancing in the evening. She smiled pretty and played to the camera.
Gotta give her props for having the guts to stick around, I guess.
So after that adventure, we ran back to the hotel to wolf down our dinner and change. (Everyone except me. They all got do’d up. I stayed in jeans. More comfortable, and in my current dermatological state, attempts at attractiveness would be pathetic. Ely HAD to, she was judging, and had to look the part. And did. ) Then it was back to the theatre to watch the ten finalists.
All I can say is, “Wow.”
Ten extremely talented women danced for us in gorgeous costumes. I could never judge, I wouldn’t know who to pick. But pick they did.
Shoshanna won. She is a lovely dancer. Obviously well-trained, and well-practiced. I had a few other favorites among the finalists, though.
My personal favorite, probably because she was most unique in her dancing… Oreet. This woman can MOVE. And she’s playful, and fun, and full of life and energy. There seemed to be a little Afro-Haitian flavor to her dancing, but it was all real belly dance. Loved her. LOVED her. If I ever get a chance to see her again, I’ll go out of my way to do so.
Shabnam. Another wow. She’s just so beautiful on stage. Great dancer, too, of course.
Afterward, we went back to the hotel and gathered in the room I shared with LJ for champagne and strawberries to celebrate Pat’s forthcoming performance on Sunday.
And Pat was nervous.
We chattered about what we’d seen. (Yes, Miss Orange Panties 2004 was discussed) We critiqued the different dancers, pointed out the importance of not playing cymbals if you really don’t know what you’re doing. Shoddy zils can DESTROY your performance, it’s better not to play at all than to play badly. We commented that this was the year of the sword. Everybody and their granny was doing sword. There was the girl whose cane slipped off her head as she was trying to balance it…and she mouthed “SHIT!” very plainly… We talked about it all.
The phone rings. The front desk has apparently had a call from a neighboring room that we’re being too noisy.
Busted.
And Pat was nervous.
Sunday.
Awaken. Eat mediocre breakfast in hotel lobby again. Return to room to brush teeth. Visited by Ely to use our facilities, as the bathroom in their room is occupied by Nervous Pat readying for her competition debut. Learn that Pat has already been awake for many hours going over her dance, reviewing choreographies, and generally being someone who is about to compete for the first time.
They left before us. Pat wanted to get there plenty early enough to check out the stage and get a feel for it…and just…well…make sure she was there in plenty of time.
LJ and I packed up and checked out. (Mind you, throughout the weekend we’ve been speaking to one another in accents. I’m…not sure why we do that. But we did it. A lot.)
Arrive at theatre to be met by Cat (who has heretofore not been mentioned much, but who was a thorough participant in the weekend festivities, and is one FUN lady.)She informs us that Pat was listening to her music on the drive over, obsessing about steps…
We wander among tables shopping again. You’d think we’d be done, since nothing has changed from the day before, and there just AREN’T that many vendors. But it’s always fun to look at pretty, sparkly, fringey, swishy things.
We were delighted to find that TC and LS had arrived to join us in watching our friend perform. So there was more visiting and shopping to be done now that THEY were there…
And Pat was, somewhere, being nervous.
Sunday was a wonderful array of Grand Dancer competitors, Duos and Trios, and troupes. It tends to be a more spectacular and colorful day of performance, given that there can be a lot more innovation and artistic license when you have more than one dancer in a number.
A few standouts:
Hadia Sahara, a trio. I THINK that’s their website I’ve linked. I hope it is. These three women did the coolest things, interesting veil work and shadowboxing with their veils, fabulous arms and poses in a wonderful, flowing representation of Kali, first with just arms and hands, then with swords, moving across the stage… Just…wow. I VERY much enjoyed their performance. They got first runner up in their category. I’d have given them the title, personally. But that’s personal preference.
Raqs Habibi, also a trio, they won the category with a gorgeous performance FILLED with superior technique. No reason they shouldn’t have won, I just like the ‘weird’ and ‘unique’ stuff better. These women are phenomenally talented. Poised, lovely, and skilled. A joy to watch.
Unmata. I’ve seen them dance at the Rogue Festival, and loved the show. They were even better at the pageant this year. Totally deserving of winning Troupe of the Year this year. Good for them! Tribal and fusion style dance is NOT about mushy, boring, ‘new age’ movement. They prove that Tribal and Fusion styles of Belly Dance are as much, maybe more, about technique and precision as any of the other styles. Every person in that troupe was ‘on’ throughout their entire performance. Flawless. Absolutely flawless. Can I BE more complimentary? Love them.
Ok, so that was just a few of the duo/trio and troupe competitors, what about the Grand Dancers?
Frankly, I only recall two. The rest were good, enjoyable, and accomplished women…but I mostly remember Una and our Pat.
Una could walk out on stage, point her toe, shimmy, and she’d look like a freaking goddess doing it. She won, of course. You don’t dance for 27 years every night at a restaurant and not get that good. And when you’re that good, it is VERY difficult to find anyone that can hold a candle to even your mere presence on stage. She’s got it all, the skill, technique, and playful nature, as well as the smoldering intensity, and the ability to make it look like it’s nothing at all. I will always go out of my way to see a performance by Una.
Then there was our Pat. I can NOT express how proud and thrilled I am for her. She placed as first runner up, and deservedly so. (I will venture to say that had Una not been there she would have easily won. I really believe that.) She walked out on stage, ready to go on…looking, well, nervous, but absolutely gorgeous in her lime green costume.
Then LJ made this “OhhhOHHHHooooh” noise, the rest of us were hooting and hollering, we saw Pat laugh at us, relax, and the music started.
She absolutely wowed the audience. They were clapping, they were being noisy, and I think they were generally just enjoying the show. I know I did. She didn’t do a thing wrong. Lovely, the whole thing was just amazingly lovely. This quiet and generally shy woman was PLAYING with her audience, and she knew her stuff, and she proved it to the judges.
After this triumphant conquest of the pageant, we all went over to the Pasta Pelican with Pat,her S.O., his daughter, TC and her husband, Ely, Cat, LJ, LS, and meself, for some more REALLY good pasta, and REALLY good, fun conversation. (Loud as well, apparently,as one of the other patrons inquired loudly as we were leaving…”What are all you nice people here for? Celebrating a birthday or something?” I was already on my way out the door, so I don’t know how it was explained to him that we were celebrating an award winning belly dancer.)
The trip home was uneventful, but for our stop at McDonald’s in Los Banos. We were punchdrunk by that time. Hours upon hours of watching belly dancers will do that to you. I was obnoxiously making Cat laugh by offering her ‘monkey food’ (the granola from my parfait), after having demonstrated my ‘Planet of the Apes’ face. (I am, apparently, the female equivalent of Jim Carrey, according to them.)We were STILL talking about Miss Orange Panties 2004, and planning our next troupe costume as an homage to her. We were generally tittering at the most inane things…and Ely was trying to admonish us to have ‘decorum’…except she couldn’t say the right word. The scary thing is, the several strange words she did invent in its stead were enough for us all to KNOW what she meant, even though none of US could supply the real word either.
“Demorahm…moradum…decarma…”
We eventually got around to “decorum.” The word, not the behavior. A sure sign that our weekend was definitely over, and needed to be.
All in all, a great weekend.
In other news, I can’t get in to see the dermatologist until NEXT Friday. So, in the mean time, I am the amazing Toad woman. We are not happy about this. We would very much like to feel at least marginally attractive again. This is one of those times when I almost wish I was hardcore Muslim, and could have an excuse to cover my face. Alas, I am not, and would never dare cheapen their demonstrations of their beliefs. No concealing veil for me.
And tonight is Stomp night. YAY! I know I’m gonna love it. Podling will as well, I think. (I have been instructed by Ely that if there is a cd available, I must purchase it. Do I detect a fusion drum solo choreography?)
