tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34890032817859119902024-03-12T22:56:20.759-07:00Traveling Belly DancerTo dance all over the world is a dream come true.
Tips and stories for belly dancers who love to travel- or for travelers who love to belly dance.Avaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.comBlogger72125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3489003281785911990.post-65916139410038945862010-10-13T18:26:00.000-07:002010-10-13T19:10:57.460-07:00A Taste of Cuba in San Francisco<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEhCjzgvJ4Qpugd4CBmnuGo6SJh0L6wbwZOEETqPHNDlKuOA7VqSfTLt1fQi9w3-LEZLgkS6oF2GDaw93IC-OXlnhICr-1SAEdVmGQ8Ae2W8doKVR36IQJcDYPVPRRsHKMV-t4fbwBgf5a/s1600/photo(4).JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEhCjzgvJ4Qpugd4CBmnuGo6SJh0L6wbwZOEETqPHNDlKuOA7VqSfTLt1fQi9w3-LEZLgkS6oF2GDaw93IC-OXlnhICr-1SAEdVmGQ8Ae2W8doKVR36IQJcDYPVPRRsHKMV-t4fbwBgf5a/s320/photo(4).JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527717855070949330" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />San Francisco is famous for its tourist hot spots. Fisherman's Wharf, Pier 39, Alamo Square, China Town, Golden Gate Bridge, and Union Square can be found crawling with tourists on any given day. While these places are all interesting attractions to explore, the real gems are hidden throughout the city like a pirate's buried treasure. This is just one of the reasons why living in a place trumps being a tourist any day. Of course, you get the best of both worlds if you happen to know an insider who lives in the city you're visiting. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrBfE6ziq02GC88dflB55dwgk5nsnlpm3ROM2pKSPzgnujY-BA4X6OZnaldsSWuJ9kmdSADPA2pME2lNIClihuUurSSHeUFmVJ9EZpHesAO0xjmURtHTbMrOmBfAb1Mdrw3By_mUN7qWce/s1600/photo(2).JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrBfE6ziq02GC88dflB55dwgk5nsnlpm3ROM2pKSPzgnujY-BA4X6OZnaldsSWuJ9kmdSADPA2pME2lNIClihuUurSSHeUFmVJ9EZpHesAO0xjmURtHTbMrOmBfAb1Mdrw3By_mUN7qWce/s320/photo(2).JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527717313979319730" border="0" /></a>That's a good combo, too.<br />Despite having lived in San Francisco for the past six years, I am still discovering treasure troves tucked away in the little pockets of various neighborhoods. The recent heat waves have had me wide awake at night and wanting to play. No better way to do it than cruising through the streets on the back of a motorcycle. There's just something about being on a motorcycle that makes me feel cool. Plus, without the roof of a car obscuring my view, I often see things I might have otherwise missed.<br />That was how my friend, Michael, and I stumbled upon <a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/radio-habana-social-club-san-francisco-3"><span style="font-style: italic;">R</span></a><a href="http://www.yelp.com/biz/radio-habana-social-club-san-francisco-3"><span style="font-style: italic;">adio Habana Social Club</span></a>. Michael is my hair stylist and rocker friend. We met while sharing the stage for a rock and roll belly dance show I produced. His band, <a href="http://www.myspace.com/electricsister"><span style="font-style: italic;">Electric Sister</span></a>, headlined. Nothing like getting t<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaacuBbePaDyY8VhlJDhmNfwAVD8JqXvg4hToOcdu46Ik_KHJ9ReUYypd8Q5e6F9ETtN4-YS49lCGLXPjRZOYhCNgleoIyT8dgBABWlJkG36qC68syoHFez53pUJXmmzkmK7AH4p-Flax9/s1600/photo.JPG"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaacuBbePaDyY8VhlJDhmNfwAVD8JqXvg4hToOcdu46Ik_KHJ9ReUYypd8Q5e6F9ETtN4-YS49lCGLXPjRZOYhCNgleoIyT8dgBABWlJkG36qC68syoHFez53pUJXmmzkmK7AH4p-Flax9/s320/photo.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527717217840617202" border="0" /></a>o know people while you're undulating on stage with them.<br />We were driving back to his place for a late night hair cut (that's the only way I've managed to get my hair cut these days) when we heard jazzy Cuban music spilling out of this tiny bar.<br />The place was almost too eccentric to describe. It was like the Mad Hatter's playground; nothing made sense, and yet it all came together in a way that fit. Avant garde and abstract art adorned every nook, cranny, ceiling, and wall. Ev<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggOAYxAdirD6e6WKydZGvKKzTdyz0KwFYqnbIBxipTXvQVulYyMT7BrWoP_zSY1YzaRaX2ztdOtEwx5oV3KUNBI3_5bCAYPmY0SIXBrCVaAOZYGJQF4RfsZ_kFdA4xVdrac4Yd2T-S1KWc/s1600/photo(3).JPG"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggOAYxAdirD6e6WKydZGvKKzTdyz0KwFYqnbIBxipTXvQVulYyMT7BrWoP_zSY1YzaRaX2ztdOtEwx5oV3KUNBI3_5bCAYPmY0SIXBrCVaAOZYGJQF4RfsZ_kFdA4xVdrac4Yd2T-S1KWc/s320/photo(3).JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527717628828211362" border="0" /></a>en the floor was covered in art. Marionettes and random objects dangled overhead, like a flock of mismatched birds suspended in flight. Most of the objects were hybrids of various items that had been joined together in a way that was creepy yet mesmerizing. Doll heads with fish bodies, barbies with dragon wings, eyeballs and random body parts glued onto toy cars. All sorts of grotesque images that will haunt your dreams. In addition to this madness were black and white photos of Cuba, musical instruments, and pieces of quotes and poems. The menu had been spray painted on the floor in several places.<br />This eclectic spot is apparently known for its sangria. Michael and I had already downed some beers at a bar, so we opted for herbal tea and desert instead. Yeah, I'm not as much as a party girl as I make myself out to be. Either way, the cheesecake we shared was melt-in-your-mouth yummy.<br />Also, big thumbs up for the service. The owner was like the sweet grandma you always wished you had. Don't get me wrong, I love my gra<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbxtIVBZ8JqMnFTiZHqP_SyMnYD-HShAt3qDn3QWywX0hjO0DAyiv6_XQSqF-2cQWu6bO-juOBbKIhrBZ4FxsUJyc0ovz5Y03YhYimig3P2o89VB5xavR4T5zp4DGR5PFsTGrQP2mZOcOu/s1600/radio+habana.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbxtIVBZ8JqMnFTiZHqP_SyMnYD-HShAt3qDn3QWywX0hjO0DAyiv6_XQSqF-2cQWu6bO-juOBbKIhrBZ4FxsUJyc0ovz5Y03YhYimig3P2o89VB5xavR4T5zp4DGR5PFsTGrQP2mZOcOu/s320/radio+habana.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5527718231892029698" border="0" /></a>ndmothers, but this lady was adorable in a way that you only see in fiction.<br />Perhaps that added to the surreal vibe of <span style="font-style: italic;">Radio Habana Social Club<span style="font-style: italic;">. </span></span>Well, I guess the customer with his face painted in Dia de los Muertos make-up and the old Cuban men smoking cigars helped, too. It seemed like the kind of place where anything goes. Exactly the kind of place I like to be on a warm San Francisco night.Avaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3489003281785911990.post-42900443697060996072010-10-01T18:58:00.000-07:002010-10-01T19:28:35.021-07:00Hard Lessons<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhs7CKui5TIand0MaAa4mmOIbPxfVy9999r7biSFjrojQLYijNFwmIxeU3gwRCXetUN4xVsHAytUy65KXxFnA22U7LwCHRAY9ZDxQXCuldru6TBE8oJ8ATh4y3x2FS1sSv3ynAm_h65zZT/s1600/arecife2.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhs7CKui5TIand0MaAa4mmOIbPxfVy9999r7biSFjrojQLYijNFwmIxeU3gwRCXetUN4xVsHAytUy65KXxFnA22U7LwCHRAY9ZDxQXCuldru6TBE8oJ8ATh4y3x2FS1sSv3ynAm_h65zZT/s320/arecife2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523269306139841810" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Costa Rica is like a rose: beautiful and sweet, but you better watch out for the thorns. Is that too cliche of a metaphor? Either way, it's an apt description. I had to learn some lessons the hard way this past summer during my time in Costa Rica.<br />My fiance, Wilson, and I decided to buy property on Costa Rica's Caribbean coast three years ago because we had fallen in love with the people, the food,the diversity, the community, the nature, and the laid back culture. We now have our own little retreat in the jungle- a two bedroom house on a quiet road in the rain forest. We have neighbours, and have made friends with almost everyone on the road.<br />Anyone can see how it would be easy<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNtjP4my3dCuyVTzDUJOh-z9kHXkt8Ly2u_xggRjZLLSWfYAxPuKX4UXyJ4bdC0Myi8Pt4xG8Qu3Vx26yuCTXOgnMLgL6dqejwQ9gngA7zuNp6ZeQhB_2HFEZYQfd-6nwG5SPL1FSJ1QP-/s1600/house+side+view.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNtjP4my3dCuyVTzDUJOh-z9kHXkt8Ly2u_xggRjZLLSWfYAxPuKX4UXyJ4bdC0Myi8Pt4xG8Qu3Vx26yuCTXOgnMLgL6dqejwQ9gngA7zuNp6ZeQhB_2HFEZYQfd-6nwG5SPL1FSJ1QP-/s320/house+side+view.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523268196926798914" border="0" /></a> to get lulled into a false sense of security. We had already had our place broken into twice, so we knew all about the underground "tax" we paid as foreigners. However, the ultimate shocker came during the middle of a peaceful, quiet day. I was sitting at the table on my porch, writing on my laptop, and took a break to bring Wilson a glass of water down in the yard.<br />Our porch is ten feet up, and I locked the bottom door. Plus, we can see under the house, as we <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-cGgfFmQxxw7RESiYEeZ0dfHF8L1rkEq-87UPSbfL9yqX6p3gFQmne2Z2NJe-HDQgdNJ9Q7Z0If0Qr-y2mQzE8uevoCB17k6ujRXg4o0X3dvhJCvAPvdRhM7pkWdHufpQtYW4j4s-gFw8/s1600/waterfall.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-cGgfFmQxxw7RESiYEeZ0dfHF8L1rkEq-87UPSbfL9yqX6p3gFQmne2Z2NJe-HDQgdNJ9Q7Z0If0Qr-y2mQzE8uevoCB17k6ujRXg4o0X3dvhJCvAPvdRhM7pkWdHufpQtYW4j4s-gFw8/s320/waterfall.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523269431418797906" border="0" /></a>haven't yet finished building the bottom. I figured my laptop would be fine for five minutes, especially since I would only be about twenty feet away.<br />When I got back to the table, the laptop was gone. My first thought was, "Damn, that was fast!" My second thought was, "How long had someone been watching me?" Knowing that I had been staked out made my skin crawl. So much for knowing the neighbours.<br />For weeks after, every time someone came down the road I wondered if they had been the culprit. I was suddenly suspiciou<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2LVn9B_JxySdDga1T_4aNVddOju6-sFvsGx9jCOCiRfYa1G7PSnxYsPc0twztZtwHcHH4zp6SVcBPErAIjfMQ-gtATrmp6cR6u3RLvghzWwJznqtajHKl7cCNbgsJM_NBnn6qLfhbSFU0/s1600/000_0014.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2LVn9B_JxySdDga1T_4aNVddOju6-sFvsGx9jCOCiRfYa1G7PSnxYsPc0twztZtwHcHH4zp6SVcBPErAIjfMQ-gtATrmp6cR6u3RLvghzWwJznqtajHKl7cCNbgsJM_NBnn6qLfhbSFU0/s320/000_0014.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5523269715744704418" border="0" /></a>s and paranoid and overly cautious. Those thorns sure hurt.<br />I'm the kind of person who likes to think that people are good at their core. I tend to see the best in people upon meeting them, and assume that people have good intentions, until proven otherwise. So, it's difficult for me to switch my thinking to "everyone is a potential enemy until proven otherwise", which is now my motto.<br />I'm still happy about owning a house in Costa Rica, but I've learned from my mistakes.Avaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3489003281785911990.post-50689254237203977992010-09-26T16:02:00.000-07:002010-09-26T16:32:16.857-07:00Sunny Days in San Francisco<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoP91SwfY2s4Tc7PoJob8pL2iboDIJ4lVHtqS3Wgj1L-yYLQ0u-a5KNIExi6gNTq0O8aYlTqIzwn3C-1S17tX9S5TYT-lO0tg3WQOaEwoPWHCJtM8rOeyo4fdranDFs8J4wETc4xQNqLlC/s1600/IMG_1863ferry+building300x400.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoP91SwfY2s4Tc7PoJob8pL2iboDIJ4lVHtqS3Wgj1L-yYLQ0u-a5KNIExi6gNTq0O8aYlTqIzwn3C-1S17tX9S5TYT-lO0tg3WQOaEwoPWHCJtM8rOeyo4fdranDFs8J4wETc4xQNqLlC/s320/IMG_1863ferry+building300x400.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521368070042977810" border="0" /></a><br />I found out a surprising fact recently: Mark Twain did not infamously quote "the coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco". Either way, the quote is dead on. Lucky for me, I spent the summer in Costa Rica and missed out on the chilly fog that filled the city all summer long. Luckier still, I am back in San Francisco just in time for Indian summer.<br />There really is nothing like a sunny day in San Francisco. Everyone is out and about and in a good mood. All the girls are wearing cute, summer dresses, and all the boys are turning their heads every time a girl walks by (unless, of course, you are in the Castro).<br />Festivals dominate the weekends, farmers' markets overflow with produce, people sunbathe half-nude in Dolores Park (or fully nude if you are at Baker's Beach).<br />The antics of street performers can be seen every few blocks. Musicians, jugglers, clow<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNWgwHzYoPiXwQCRztIDAuhcsYJi2fK87FljQOd94Vr9N2-zXR1AUhZNfRfjBqEIHoHjr81PXB8C9sDk0Zg7eW9PR0qqOpCQ2umRAiv0K3f5nE-JPmvLmY6iwOsllAUMB3Yb4N72AaxzsL/s1600/2365789718_5c772db3d8.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNWgwHzYoPiXwQCRztIDAuhcsYJi2fK87FljQOd94Vr9N2-zXR1AUhZNfRfjBqEIHoHjr81PXB8C9sDk0Zg7eW9PR0qqOpCQ2umRAiv0K3f5nE-JPmvLmY6iwOsllAUMB3Yb4N72AaxzsL/s320/2365789718_5c772db3d8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521368541611680786" border="0" /></a>ns, fortune tellers, and the like will perform for you for a donation or a smile. Although, I noticed something as I strolled by several performers while I was on my way to the Ferry Building (great place to spend a sunny day): where were the belly dancers? You've got the break dancers at the corner of Powell and Market, tap dancers at Fisherman's Wharf, even people trance dancing by hippie hill. But no belly dancers. In a city filled with Tribal Fusion dancers, you'd think there would be at least one tapping into her inner gypsy and performing for the passersby.<br />I'm almost tempted to belly dance by the street myself. But then I feel the warm sun on my skin, meander by a cafe, and get lulled into buying an iced coffee and lounging at an outside table. I guess I'll save the<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh29TliGFPOHwn-y6xnDi52LzzfYeHOBUnz0crU_-XDUQXKi-IM5aaATQNzELcfOUKmZUd9HeKQPkXM5kmRDYbO07-s2Y-gAKCCmVP1Q4vv5gbMQ51eS5Np0auLVNEJwQmSsOv8cBZ6sNK2/s1600/n579875696_1475707_6091.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh29TliGFPOHwn-y6xnDi52LzzfYeHOBUnz0crU_-XDUQXKi-IM5aaATQNzELcfOUKmZUd9HeKQPkXM5kmRDYbO07-s2Y-gAKCCmVP1Q4vv5gbMQ51eS5Np0auLVNEJwQmSsOv8cBZ6sNK2/s320/n579875696_1475707_6091.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521368695380257890" border="0" /></a> belly dancing for another time.<br />Side note: I did belly dance in Duboce Park for a kid's birthday party once. During the performance, a flock of green parrots landed in a nearby tree. Yes, we were that good- even the birds came to watch!Avaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3489003281785911990.post-80407897206521529352010-06-29T09:46:00.000-07:002010-06-29T09:55:07.982-07:00Rockin' Bellies!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqCU7Iee-C0rQ95TMpQ9yVDzMrWfK4U7rVXGFfBzUXHLEgHlPC3tAuP8NXmHpu3cAaHo1AuGpGyX1mNZsLua6u7sBgUkyLi-KyiKTlAgiQVPnHZjJ2klU3fQYPJRkWe7gfUuWoyDyqZMMy/s1600/esdunord.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 207px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqCU7Iee-C0rQ95TMpQ9yVDzMrWfK4U7rVXGFfBzUXHLEgHlPC3tAuP8NXmHpu3cAaHo1AuGpGyX1mNZsLua6u7sBgUkyLi-KyiKTlAgiQVPnHZjJ2klU3fQYPJRkWe7gfUuWoyDyqZMMy/s320/esdunord.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488238951521501682" border="0" /></a>Lately, I have been into producing shows as much as I have been into performing at them. My last creation, “Rock-A-Belly” went down at the internationally famous Café du Nord, in San Francisco.<br />Belly dance and rock music? Can the two really be combined without looking silly?<br />After “Rock-A-Belly”, the answer is a definite ‘yes’!<br />It’s easier to belly dance to rock music than you’d think. Everything is in an eight count, and the guitar solos are really just rock and roll versions of a taxeem. And the drums! Great way to get your shimmy on. And frankly, let’s admit it, there’s a reason so many strippers grind and get down to rock music; rock is<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPMiYV5t7b4cVC87xQQfpnM_Fs7tWuq2qs61T_sfzwvA-pvaIiROf01D-_D0XaVqaKrE6tL8zOHFOxm2h__TSvcW2PMB0iNXdVV1Xnwu9SFMXgIE3SiQy4L3ByeL4do8jEKFMlLYPAudf5/s1600/me.tc.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPMiYV5t7b4cVC87xQQfpnM_Fs7tWuq2qs61T_sfzwvA-pvaIiROf01D-_D0XaVqaKrE6tL8zOHFOxm2h__TSvcW2PMB0iNXdVV1Xnwu9SFMXgIE3SiQy4L3ByeL4do8jEKFMlLYPAudf5/s320/me.tc.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488239102244561682" border="0" /></a> sexy and fun and makes you want to dance! There’s a wild abandon that comes with rock music, which is so unlike the strict traditionalism that can come with classic styles of belly dance music.<br />I certainly let loose with wild abandon at the show. We opened with a belly dance set (sans bands), and all four dancers- Rasa Vitalia, Leah, Alodiah, and myself- had the crowd entranced by our own, unique styles. Yes, belly dance is diverse! It’s not all coin belts and sequins and bad Middle Eastern pop music. Especially in San Francisco.<br />I had only booked three bands for the night, but we somehow ended up with five. Deeva opened, but shared their set with Art in Heaven. Castles and Spain rocked the middle set. Ironically, there w<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdAA81Jk9DqrmGfJY9gw8aq0UN9Ox4bFhKW8TSH2NO3sdNx_TEICFKwc7QqyxLP9bcxE6gTgpmoWGK_CfA938gNxZQGS1Myg88_lJ1JRRUFfF_v0gXMTBEdWbGoU_WOX6EVxu_wBjn6CaC/s1600/me.sword.ec.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdAA81Jk9DqrmGfJY9gw8aq0UN9Ox4bFhKW8TSH2NO3sdNx_TEICFKwc7QqyxLP9bcxE6gTgpmoWGK_CfA938gNxZQGS1Myg88_lJ1JRRUFfF_v0gXMTBEdWbGoU_WOX6EVxu_wBjn6CaC/s320/me.sword.ec.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488239230666950978" border="0" /></a>ere no belly dancers in their set, and yet they were the only band that night who had a history of including belly dancers at their shows.<br />Our headliner was Electric Sister. Really sweet guys. So respectful to Alodiah and I during the rehearsals we went to. No sleaziness whatsoever. Until they got onstage. I knew they sometimes described their music as “LA stripper metal”, but I didn’t quite put two and two together. And really, it’s quite the challenge to belly dance to that kind of music, with the band guys acting like sleazy rock stars, while trying to maintain some sense of class.<br />Don’t get me wrong. I love, love, love sleazy rock and roll. And Electric Sister are great at what they do. It’s j<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5DzqG1kQYtnvKSiiwMhYPjOEZT2PKJ78PuDYhFvNlWwv_CmWbW_YvV9c3tmbFlZDAHhy1RwqeU-j7UBlG8lnp4l8OrIGtV0CeU23JLsL2mS56qKajbnxpd23g4tNQuOg-vi7bp6ZWOQvl/s1600/ec.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5DzqG1kQYtnvKSiiwMhYPjOEZT2PKJ78PuDYhFvNlWwv_CmWbW_YvV9c3tmbFlZDAHhy1RwqeU-j7UBlG8lnp4l8OrIGtV0CeU23JLsL2mS56qKajbnxpd23g4tNQuOg-vi7bp6ZWOQvl/s320/ec.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488239668493803954" border="0" /></a>ust a challenge to belly dance with them and not look like a stripper. Just one eight count of sloppy technique and I knew I’d be doomed!<br />Thank god, Alodiah and I had spent hours rehearsing our choreography. We could put those moves to any kind of music- rock, Middle Eastern, or otherwise- and we’d still look like professional belly dancers. Which was what I was going for: to show that belly d<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9qor87wbPAjVsnnv9ps_8_rtF7d5uHRJIjaKepDpsfDBDKyjPWuar4xyMU1pV9722Y8mBro2Vj_frLn9rB0jsXI5JLAEnOfe115Ia1Oju1PsWkp_-4NYcXoxaTMjXjPLvwmhtGr0shyR9/s1600/me.ec.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9qor87wbPAjVsnnv9ps_8_rtF7d5uHRJIjaKepDpsfDBDKyjPWuar4xyMU1pV9722Y8mBro2Vj_frLn9rB0jsXI5JLAEnOfe115Ia1Oju1PsWkp_-4NYcXoxaTMjXjPLvwmhtGr0shyR9/s320/me.ec.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488240077572991538" border="0" /></a>ance is classy all on its own, regardless of what kind of music you put it to.<br />The night ended with a great surprise. One of my favorite bands, Triple Cobra, showed up to play a secret set after Electric Sister. Triple Cobra has a bit of a cult following, and their glam rock, make-up, and sparkles fit right in with the belly dance theme. Despite the differences between belly dance and rock culture, I’m glad to say that we can at least all get away with wearing sparkles on our faces.Avaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3489003281785911990.post-23218668551623231342010-06-15T17:55:00.000-07:002010-06-15T18:30:46.332-07:00Zadiel in California!Planning a tour is no small feat. I have always loved the expression "hindsight is 20/20", because it really is! I recently hosted my first tour, in California for Zadiel Sasmaz- one of Europe's most famous ma<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjirxLPDkH19Nur7AvpSzpCSWqrBQ-IeNxSngrhoScQYkqf6XWASJy4Lb7SbHjqY8krpbbJp2CpywVvI_HE6BTBAnOEENAs8BgQFWgaeoVX1yd8B01lWzkqdaKcP7QkaK-KecEKLtlfqeSu/s1600/zadiel.shimmy.sisters.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 206px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjirxLPDkH19Nur7AvpSzpCSWqrBQ-IeNxSngrhoScQYkqf6XWASJy4Lb7SbHjqY8krpbbJp2CpywVvI_HE6BTBAnOEENAs8BgQFWgaeoVX1yd8B01lWzkqdaKcP7QkaK-KecEKLtlfqeSu/s320/zadiel.shimmy.sisters.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483174236931880882" border="0" /></a>le belly dancers. Looking back, there are so many things I would have done differently. Contracts, for everything, for starters. More promotion. Tons and tons and tons of promotion!<br />That said, the tour was successful in many ways. Namely, I discovered what it was like to live with two gay men. You wouldn't believe the amount of cologne that was sprayed in my house- I almost debated wearing a gas mask! And if you ever thought that teenage girls were boy crazy, you'd quickly realize that gay men truly define the term "boy obsessed". But can you blame them? Two gay guys from Germany in San Francisco for the first time, how could they not get a little nutty about all the gay m<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDjo00FUYOgMMXodavL0azIMpt9oaT_w4nbU2VXd3scdk99pXrKUEXcgsP75y_NuoC28TUMlmiPkpVCGxw7nKCD-wHVWFVZ5iELL0QOSg-_PEXvYlfiFGGv3XVx3wNZI1X4t4_iENEBi6f/s1600/sandiego.workshop.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 212px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDjo00FUYOgMMXodavL0azIMpt9oaT_w4nbU2VXd3scdk99pXrKUEXcgsP75y_NuoC28TUMlmiPkpVCGxw7nKCD-wHVWFVZ5iELL0QOSg-_PEXvYlfiFGGv3XVx3wNZI1X4t4_iENEBi6f/s320/sandiego.workshop.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483177300724338258" border="0" /></a>en walking around?<br />The best part about touring is all the people you meet. From San Diego to San Francisco, we only had the best of hosts along the way. And to share the stage with other talented dancers is priceless. The downside? Lack of sleep! We all kept staying up way past our bedtimes because we were enjoying the pleasant company so much!<br />Also, as one of Zadiel's hostesses, I got to take all of his workshops. And Zadiel is a master teacher. From "Dancing to Turkish Pop" to "Drum Solo" to "Turkish Roma", I was shimmying my heart out. The "Turkish Roma" workshop was my favorite. The only drawback was that all the hopping a walking and sliding gave me a blister the size of a large grape on the bottom of my right foot. For the past three days I've been hobbling around like an old l<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbq9o0N85TXW2NbqlDg0OhKvS_N_lrSd6P9uAxIsx9OjOb8QJlh4JwQXtmJPtE1xM_zbmSZbaVoOYg_eKpBKWA5FnnjOuDgOV3o5JfFSZU4quVvxKaca4-lVhNFw7yO19Vl1MIlvhdtHSH/s1600/two.me.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbq9o0N85TXW2NbqlDg0OhKvS_N_lrSd6P9uAxIsx9OjOb8QJlh4JwQXtmJPtE1xM_zbmSZbaVoOYg_eKpBKWA5FnnjOuDgOV3o5JfFSZU4quVvxKaca4-lVhNFw7yO19Vl1MIlvhdtHSH/s320/two.me.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5483177489876231154" border="0" /></a>ady!<br />The toughest day of the tour, though, was the day of the Balkan Fusion Party show at Triple Crown in San Francisco. I was running on five hours sleep, and drove from San Diego to Los Angeles, then flew to San Francisco, got ready in thirty minutes, walked to the club, and produced a show.<br />In hindsight, that all seems very stressful and a little crazy. But then I pause to reflect some more and I think, "Lack of sleep? Excessive traveling? Blisters?" Meh. It's just another day in the life of a belly dancer.Avaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3489003281785911990.post-39101312631864861302010-05-20T11:54:00.000-07:002010-05-20T12:23:58.339-07:00Balkan Brass<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC4zrfxbz0D9WRL6xKrGhyphenhyphenQ_hCeFMK3LxKklRECrNY-pQmbGnm5sav9naPV8vtKHfUZZ2r-qr41DS_bYgver3xBbw63mfJXHIdGAMh64E78DO8WTFR3immbG42lPchh83bVOHt07GFAK5u/s1600/550+Bryant+124.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC4zrfxbz0D9WRL6xKrGhyphenhyphenQ_hCeFMK3LxKklRECrNY-pQmbGnm5sav9naPV8vtKHfUZZ2r-qr41DS_bYgver3xBbw63mfJXHIdGAMh64E78DO8WTFR3immbG42lPchh83bVOHt07GFAK5u/s320/550+Bryant+124.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473433350891386178" border="0" /></a>What is it about the deep thrum of a tuba, the short bursts of a trumpet, and the drawn out sighs of a trombone that I find so damn sexy?<br />My first taste of live Balkan music was at Amnesia in San Francisco. Rachel Brice was performing- that sultry snake of a belly dancer. She was the one I had gone to see, but when the band for the night, "Brass Menazeri", started playing, it was the music that had me captivated and wanting more. (But don't get me wrong, Rachel kicked ass that night!)<br />Something about the festivity, the gy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip0im92vMv3XPU3BykoOeq53TgysDhmdxZlkZdEq21k52nrUR1BKr6bPpIJ_4WsgXCukwRT-1uiKH2UmfF5KqO13sedWZyy2fu6mpnoaAQNwt-31js8nvAFPFfPzA1Mkee1yp2rIJU-kX2/s1600/zoyres.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip0im92vMv3XPU3BykoOeq53TgysDhmdxZlkZdEq21k52nrUR1BKr6bPpIJ_4WsgXCukwRT-1uiKH2UmfF5KqO13sedWZyy2fu6mpnoaAQNwt-31js8nvAFPFfPzA1Mkee1yp2rIJU-kX2/s320/zoyres.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473433638014459938" border="0" /></a>psy-like mischievousness in the songs, made me want to dance, and dance, and dance. I suppose I'm not the only one who's been feeling that way, because there has been a boom of belly dancing to Balkan music in the Tribal Fusion belly dance community.<br />I was at a rehearsal the other day, for an upcoming show with the band, "Zoyres". Now, Zoyres' sound is many things, and one of the<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHvXBVzZZ5GHzb9B0qHq5EvcWtQlS4-Kusx2eXxAJoZ5IHCjhMs73ZA4mrp0syXDJ2KIuQsnmIZKW1IKy20tkS03T5w9bluMfdMnCYr-LEhnbd3GoPaHdc_49UP_z_E3JSRs9sgWn5dLsj/s1600/550+Bryant+150.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHvXBVzZZ5GHzb9B0qHq5EvcWtQlS4-Kusx2eXxAJoZ5IHCjhMs73ZA4mrp0syXDJ2KIuQsnmIZKW1IKy20tkS03T5w9bluMfdMnCYr-LEhnbd3GoPaHdc_49UP_z_E3JSRs9sgWn5dLsj/s320/550+Bryant+150.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473434380790059346" border="0" /></a>m is Balkan. As I sat there listening to the band play, I felt something familiar. There was a feeling stirring in my body that felt akin to falling in love. The room was sort of spinning. And that's when I realized that I was swooning.<br />Guys, pay attention. All those band geeks in high school had the right idea, because now they're surrounded by hot, swooning belly dancers!<br />This June, I am hosting Zadiel Sasmaz- my dance director from Berlin- on tour in California. Zadiel's specialties inc<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPLhJ32u3hYO9QEHRbLABLGctZSQR7mzn_Whr9e0B3LjlaVWUQXGVytJmFz7HsQcjblOGAKG9kGVmwaRGvJeahV17P2qAEjQWocA6nrkwu8SOhAx8Nvgc8fJsnRHY28Yf7fdO2MuPxEmB_/s1600/triple.crown.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 226px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPLhJ32u3hYO9QEHRbLABLGctZSQR7mzn_Whr9e0B3LjlaVWUQXGVytJmFz7HsQcjblOGAKG9kGVmwaRGvJeahV17P2qAEjQWocA6nrkwu8SOhAx8Nvgc8fJsnRHY28Yf7fdO2MuPxEmB_/s320/triple.crown.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5473435053517218290" border="0" /></a>lude Turkish Roma and 9/8 rhythms, music favored by Eastern European gypsies. What better case to showcase his talents than at a Balkan Fusion party? That's what gave me the idea for the next show I am producing. Belly dancers from a variety of styles, a special musical guest called "Leopard Print Tank Top", a sword solo to clarinet, and Zoyres, who will satisfy your Balkan music cravings. June 7th at Triple Crown in San Francisco! Time to release your inner gypsy, and maybe even catch a swooning dancer. That's one way to sweep a woman off her feet!Avaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3489003281785911990.post-6705860445190286022010-05-10T11:06:00.000-07:002010-05-10T11:41:56.704-07:00Baxtalo Drom: The Lucky Road<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglmL0EUfZeVgYkDwGtxX3sK8AYPGR9-5SLlCdJHp0LpAcnT7FWsWV321wL5dPmbwJgVHuBYQLiOqisfAq5rJh3PFljc1W6-ejSciBYu8BVL1LCLgqW28_0dyT95J19zhoT6a37_iALxkXo/s1600/me.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglmL0EUfZeVgYkDwGtxX3sK8AYPGR9-5SLlCdJHp0LpAcnT7FWsWV321wL5dPmbwJgVHuBYQLiOqisfAq5rJh3PFljc1W6-ejSciBYu8BVL1LCLgqW28_0dyT95J19zhoT6a37_iALxkXo/s320/me.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469711109099698194" border="0" /></a>There is a gypsy punk party that happens once a month in San Francisco and it is a little bit, shall we say, revered in the tribal fusion belly dance community. Rose Harden and the ladies of Sister Kate host one hell of a show, called "Baxtalo Drom", at Amnesia.<br />Baxtalo Drom means "The Lucky Road", and if you attend or perform at the event, then you will indeed find yourself feeling like you have stumbled onto some lucky path. The performers are always hot and amazing, and the crowd is always just the right amount of rowdy.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN-VT8qlRXlaEAddCgYqujDUwk5WrLkk9hNaO726Yn8UvQLMKZkNxPDBuc0-Uq0SUBot0MLoILKyw-_dqyGncmOkfPBTeioVyFLhI2lEh-ZBSnHdk1G_qAUjUvbrgr125mM7ozRgylgLeb/s1600/000_0020.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 178px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN-VT8qlRXlaEAddCgYqujDUwk5WrLkk9hNaO726Yn8UvQLMKZkNxPDBuc0-Uq0SUBot0MLoILKyw-_dqyGncmOkfPBTeioVyFLhI2lEh-ZBSnHdk1G_qAUjUvbrgr125mM7ozRgylgLeb/s320/000_0020.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469711354969127090" border="0" /></a><br />Three days prior to the last Baxtalo Drom show, I was asked to perform. Yep, three days notice about performing at a show I knew would be packed! On the Facebook event page I was described as a "ravishing desert flower that wields her sword for you". What a title to live up to! My nerves were wracked, but I knew everything would be okay... so long as I practiced fifty million times.<br />To spice things up even more, the featured dancer of the night was Deb Rubin. Have you seen that woman dance? Well, she's fabulous, and dancing at the same show with her was humbling for me, if not a little terrifying at first. When you're opening for a big act, it's normal to have those feelings, right?<br />I really had nothing to worry about,<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR2SKO4Hs5-dioOjx2NTgKgHtUddDcBQAXzIaiVUaJcA7GnteoPcnW5LWsvH01C1aUhAFWpZ_QGMQNiCv7Li8PNzq06zZsDn0xvIrZ43e34crAde6aVYBe79edaljq2AVVV0qN1cgXckfA/s1600/000_0023.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR2SKO4Hs5-dioOjx2NTgKgHtUddDcBQAXzIaiVUaJcA7GnteoPcnW5LWsvH01C1aUhAFWpZ_QGMQNiCv7Li8PNzq06zZsDn0xvIrZ43e34crAde6aVYBe79edaljq2AVVV0qN1cgXckfA/s320/000_0023.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469713212706787458" border="0" /></a> though. My piece was- dare I say- almost flawless. Of course, after practicing it fifty million times, I would have been surprised if it had been anything else. And I say "almost" flawless just so I don't sound like an arrogant diva. This is where I would insert a smiley face if this blog had emoticons.<br />The other acts were also pretty spectacular. Kimberly Mackoy, Fatima, and Deb Rubin entertained the crowd with their sexy dance prowess. DJ Alxndr provided some funky beats. And Khi Darag (don't even bother trying to pronounce that; I couldn't pronounce it corre<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAo6A0miTu79wPor8rPMOuiDLunRx4YNQiadBoShXHA5rl1Fm1SxAMvLnf8YOgUR2ec-V9L6-cvRdtsn1gr2zu_SDXUO4g5DhwISuZyWGU2zjFhjPkFlv9jlLn45251BC39511tXk10h8_/s1600/mei.me.alodiah.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAo6A0miTu79wPor8rPMOuiDLunRx4YNQiadBoShXHA5rl1Fm1SxAMvLnf8YOgUR2ec-V9L6-cvRdtsn1gr2zu_SDXUO4g5DhwISuZyWGU2zjFhjPkFlv9jlLn45251BC39511tXk10h8_/s320/mei.me.alodiah.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5469713395650928034" border="0" /></a>ctly after a whole night of hearing the name) got the audience moving and grooving with their gypsy-like tunes.<br />A bunch of my friends made it out to the show, despite the last minute notice. Where would I be without my amazing friends? It is so helpful to look into the crowd when I am onstage and see a familiar face.<br />Also, I realized that the lucky road doesn't have to stop at Amnesia; if I think about it, my whole life been a gypsy punk party as of late. Traveling the globe, dancing up a storm, having adventures, falling in love. Baxtalo drom indeed!Avaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3489003281785911990.post-31828921705840658772010-04-30T16:16:00.000-07:002010-04-30T16:44:28.685-07:00Clown CabaretA few posts ago I was saying how tempted I've been to ru<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7W7yBgN3RUn0ZItSATYwHfNS-U86somVu5kYt7tueWdIaEKAR2x9fXHq62L0ruOalRUuEmT4s540rkpI_wD2aXuo250g6YdE6T029gvApy2L7hlraZRVis-xHViG5P-pSxZpTfp5qOgOq/s1600/alison.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7W7yBgN3RUn0ZItSATYwHfNS-U86somVu5kYt7tueWdIaEKAR2x9fXHq62L0ruOalRUuEmT4s540rkpI_wD2aXuo250g6YdE6T029gvApy2L7hlraZRVis-xHViG5P-pSxZpTfp5qOgOq/s320/alison.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466079091605025330" border="0" /></a>n away and join the circus. Well, a few weeks ago I almost had my chance. Sort of. I was scheduled to perform at the "Nutritionally Delicious and Delectably Delightful Clown Cabaret". Clowns, jugglers, acrobats, unicyclists, and other circus freaks would be performing, too, and welcoming belly dancing into their umbrella of circus arts.<br />Unfortunately, I got si<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCpOzbeRmbrmYbmZxlxXRDbHL9iArKilUMRHsJ31fmLir1bs4exOpttetpRoPPpQ5CrRstcFu2YIEp8Ook2IOJa_gbAJi9UTe-WGjqjAeXcnazRec0Rr_ISCefyQwAhoOvw-g1c3Ew-9vu/s1600/pie.clown.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCpOzbeRmbrmYbmZxlxXRDbHL9iArKilUMRHsJ31fmLir1bs4exOpttetpRoPPpQ5CrRstcFu2YIEp8Ook2IOJa_gbAJi9UTe-WGjqjAeXcnazRec0Rr_ISCefyQwAhoOvw-g1c3Ew-9vu/s320/pie.clown.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466080037543655426" border="0" /></a>ck at the last minute and couldn't perform. I know, the "show must go on". And it did, thanks to my belly dancer friend, Alison, whom I called two hours prior to the show and asked if she could fill my spot. I really love that I can call a belly dancer last minute and have them perform. I should start a "dial-a-belly-dancer" service or something. Betcha I could make some good money doing that!<br />Despite being ill, I still went to the event and volunteered at the drink/snack booth. The cabaret was a fundraiser for <a href="http://www.inmotiontheater.com/">inMotion Theater</a>, which is a non-profit that works with high school <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDFNglyO-Dyr97OTcfJPACmbmFheWgyJn0rUvqWpOhUoCKpPP-0i1ey2PXuFqlHkcUYVslYTmxSPL6EuJJSdEHKOXRoRmvVQbLg6JON1o8fHQCKhV_DPNvZGU45ewqFKLk52EAiERhiGqq/s1600/edna.bear.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDFNglyO-Dyr97OTcfJPACmbmFheWgyJn0rUvqWpOhUoCKpPP-0i1ey2PXuFqlHkcUYVslYTmxSPL6EuJJSdEHKOXRoRmvVQbLg6JON1o8fHQCKhV_DPNvZGU45ewqFKLk52EAiERhiGqq/s320/edna.bear.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466080267264726274" border="0" /></a>youth to create educational theater shows about healthy living. I wish I had something that cool when I was in school. Being a circus performer as a way to stay in shape? Sure beats running laps around the track.<br />Polina Smith was the organizer for the event and she did a fab job of bringing everyone together. I especially liked the "pie-in-the-face" clowns, and the cartoon bear sketch by Edna Barron. But everyone was delightful to watch. And now I have some new ideas to add to my routine. What do you think about a belly dancing unicyclist? I'm sure I could pull it off...<br /><h3 class="UIIntentionalStory_Message" ft="{"type":"msg"}"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0pX_a75fvhZ_riwYxjf2njaOvNUGcxxdnsY0E5uCro5nZ01XMI0_LG6umqfzpuX8o1VFLgN6vQfjS63oHI5BKqOunuYvAtE_5CLGEJgpCOu1lLMkZ_NnpYuPiGX_vozgtoV2dkqNwwsRe/s1600/pie.clowns.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0pX_a75fvhZ_riwYxjf2njaOvNUGcxxdnsY0E5uCro5nZ01XMI0_LG6umqfzpuX8o1VFLgN6vQfjS63oHI5BKqOunuYvAtE_5CLGEJgpCOu1lLMkZ_NnpYuPiGX_vozgtoV2dkqNwwsRe/s320/pie.clowns.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5466080496206068418" border="0" /></a></h3>Avaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3489003281785911990.post-49408973115742156702010-04-19T16:09:00.000-07:002010-04-19T16:23:03.952-07:00Drinking with the Irish!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiclRYeHDea5K0Qnvf_L1wb2OZu28Ciml-cAcltchAmPLct35qRUAQcXNM8006AbEBxnraqDU7fY51h9wasx0vgCAksQM3bbbyFwKoON6ny0AYvQCIVqx6zLlEea4lPaI703bKfzNMdfzyI/s1600/Irelands.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiclRYeHDea5K0Qnvf_L1wb2OZu28Ciml-cAcltchAmPLct35qRUAQcXNM8006AbEBxnraqDU7fY51h9wasx0vgCAksQM3bbbyFwKoON6ny0AYvQCIVqx6zLlEea4lPaI703bKfzNMdfzyI/s320/Irelands.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461992752122378498" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Belly dancing at an Irish pub… I never would have imagined. However, this is San Francisco, and apparently anything can happen in this boundary pushing city.<br />My friend, Dee, wanted to celebrate her 30th birthday in style. As an Irish woman, that meant Irish pub, lots of alcohol, kick ass bands, and, um, belly dancers. And yes, all those things somehow fit together quite well and made for an awesome- albeit eclectic- evening.<br />The Irish pub, <a href="http://www.irelands32.com/">Ireland's 32</a>, was in the Richmond district and packed full of people when I ar<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN5eVbtn9Qs57VdPJRbQKW8-jUVDeqXEKEnlOBE51urr_4-6Xq1LI9SP6O5Q7tIiVET1sx4a7D10WpSTZyMZK-DyOZyl-mcuEN-iMytSw9YvatF1xwrLOvQrhODENArHoUI0AMbS-1QK2k/s1600/Irelands.trio.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjN5eVbtn9Qs57VdPJRbQKW8-jUVDeqXEKEnlOBE51urr_4-6Xq1LI9SP6O5Q7tIiVET1sx4a7D10WpSTZyMZK-DyOZyl-mcuEN-iMytSw9YvatF1xwrLOvQrhODENArHoUI0AMbS-1QK2k/s320/Irelands.trio.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461992584917431890" border="0" /></a>rived with my belly dancer friends in tow. Everyone was laid back, friendly, and thirsty. And those Irish accents! I couldn’t have handpicked a better crowd.<br />The night opened with a belly dance set. <a href="http://www.myspace.com/gunwallsrose">Joi</a><a href="http://www.myspace.com/gunwallsrose">e Mazor</a> (My Red Heart) and I used to dance to this little number called “Renunciation”. We decided to revive the song for the night and even pulled my friend, Julz, into the routine. Not bad for a few hours of practice time. <a href="http://www.myspace.com/alodiah">Alodiah Lunar</a>, Alison Saylor, Joie, and <a href="http://www.myspace.com/46203441">Julz</a> all did solos. I sat out, because I was still recovering from e.coli poisoning. I figured a trio and a song with the band was my limit. Really, I sh<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-bDddo-e4ZBTHHMONVFSvOirqutHoPHd_fxGVlvLI86IXu6Qy7u08rZri3g6zrWxs7Q_RqtSs4eEA9e-CAFGyQITG3GGi83ucDx9Pp23Nh_3WTbYwP8YfRqHX0GRbdKfHAN4IKXU8kuKh/s1600/irelands.alodiah.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-bDddo-e4ZBTHHMONVFSvOirqutHoPHd_fxGVlvLI86IXu6Qy7u08rZri3g6zrWxs7Q_RqtSs4eEA9e-CAFGyQITG3GGi83ucDx9Pp23Nh_3WTbYwP8YfRqHX0GRbdKfHAN4IKXU8kuKh/s320/irelands.alodiah.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461992886564997122" border="0" /></a>ouldn’t have been dancing at all, but what’s that saying? The show must go on!<br />The band “<a href="http://www.myspace.com/think13">Deeva</a>”, in which Dee is the lead singer, played a set and I managed to pull off an improvised sword performance to their last song. I know, right? In so much pain that I should have been doubled over, but instead I was up there belly dancing with a sword on my head.<br />The band, “<a href="http://www.myspace.com/artinheaven">Art in Heaven</a>” headlined, and <a href="http://www.facebook.com/#%21/video/video.php?v=410970086196&ref=mf">Joie and Alodiah busted out with some improv</a> of their own. The two hadn’t danced together in years and they managed to put together some combos in five minutes and then improvise with them to a song they had never heard. We are all total rock stars, I gotta say!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIczd2gL4Xi_0hz6igMCW9zCzjUB1Z1iBqn-G2fbw-RZ3YarU_Oa_Ba6dRBAkooElb-MbWrnaChKV-MBIBtx7i4D6LmrzS1YLTNkFa67xjueSQlkmVDlv-rPHmuhstua32GZwBEzDOny_r/s1600/irelands.joie.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIczd2gL4Xi_0hz6igMCW9zCzjUB1Z1iBqn-G2fbw-RZ3YarU_Oa_Ba6dRBAkooElb-MbWrnaChKV-MBIBtx7i4D6LmrzS1YLTNkFa67xjueSQlkmVDlv-rPHmuhstua32GZwBEzDOny_r/s320/irelands.joie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5461993010145819986" border="0" /></a><br />It was nice to kick back for a bit after the belly dancing, have a few drinks, hang with the birthday girl, and mingle with the crowd. One thing that I wasn’t able to do, though, was out drink the Irish. In fact, the bartender mixed my drink extra strong, so I was done after one cocktail. But can you blame me? After all that dancing, that alcohol must have hit my bloodstream pretty hard. Good thing I waited to drink until after the sword balancing act. I don’t really want to picture what would have happened if I had started drinking before!Avaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3489003281785911990.post-38819541552023474002010-04-13T11:21:00.000-07:002010-04-13T11:43:51.110-07:00A Taste of the Caribbean<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4HwH9Z8kC-R79vy-YOjb_1eV3xChRGixOPBJ93lKL_pa99dAraAtCsqYXDnVEY7ckbmFPZatjcK_W9hsdTtkTHv3r8fZRvLUfXIsdhwEVHzixGJ5R6oICwcu79AhirB3ANkJwc8n8QnMT/s1600/cr+four.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4HwH9Z8kC-R79vy-YOjb_1eV3xChRGixOPBJ93lKL_pa99dAraAtCsqYXDnVEY7ckbmFPZatjcK_W9hsdTtkTHv3r8fZRvLUfXIsdhwEVHzixGJ5R6oICwcu79AhirB3ANkJwc8n8QnMT/s320/cr+four.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459693238332204514" border="0" /></a><br />At the end of the main road that runs along the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica, there is a quaint beachside town called Manzanillo (pronounced “man-za-nee-yo”, not “man-za-nil-o”).<br />Manzanillo is the epitome of Caribb<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVVRBrRK8yAEw-HW3a7KIhkFChfZejESII-zNKP9w5Ng0PfH-N2DwjRZb_mpE6jftZuS2Y6QCBpfYBAXEuYFYzZmFnWGzW9EKRidIai5yI1jzCvDpFruOFfHcqmNGoxjXZjs7Jcn7uEcXF/s1600/manzanillo.beach.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVVRBrRK8yAEw-HW3a7KIhkFChfZejESII-zNKP9w5Ng0PfH-N2DwjRZb_mpE6jftZuS2Y6QCBpfYBAXEuYFYzZmFnWGzW9EKRidIai5yI1jzCvDpFruOFfHcqmNGoxjXZjs7Jcn7uEcXF/s320/manzanillo.beach.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459693860424750738" border="0" /></a>ean. Located in the <a href="http://www.costarica-nationalparks.com/gandocamanzanillowildliferefuge.html">Gandoca-Manzanillo Marine </a><a href="http://www.costarica-nationalparks.com/gandocamanzanillowildliferefuge.html">and Wil</a><a href="http://www.costarica-nationalparks.com/gandocamanzanillowildliferefuge.html">d</a><a href="http://www.costarica-nationalparks.com/gandocamanzanillowildliferefuge.html">life Refuge</a>, Manzanillo is a treasure trove for nature lovers. A dense coral reef lines the beach just meters from the shore and makes for excellent snorkelling. Sea turtles, barracudas, eels, reef sharks, sea urchins, and dozens of colorful fish are just some of the creatures you can expect to encounter. <a href="http://www.costacetacea.com/manzanillocaribbean.html">Mom-and-pop </a><a href="http://www.costacetacea.com/manzanillocaribbean.html">dive shops</a> offer snorkel gear for just $3/hour. Diving gear and tours are also available. Kayaks run at $5/hour, and other tours include dolphin watching, bird watching, boat trips, and hiking.<br />The town of Manzanillo may be tiny, but the rainforest that surrounds it is massive. A hiking trail that starts just down the beach from t<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzf_SljtyspHLtIMeIwLGU3nZM4G_qdQAURsm7JDxgOGUkdswktAivy0OcJlobdWUc3lcnqOESWEfplrBi5xU0fEAmOS19VXT1gv1SS881YswOu8UlKH_Ovorbg3fiy6-cnD-3irnzUK1-/s1600/coral+reef.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzf_SljtyspHLtIMeIwLGU3nZM4G_qdQAURsm7JDxgOGUkdswktAivy0OcJlobdWUc3lcnqOESWEfplrBi5xU0fEAmOS19VXT1gv1SS881YswOu8UlKH_Ovorbg3fiy6-cnD-3irnzUK1-/s320/coral+reef.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459693556387761842" border="0" /></a>he restaurant “Maxi’s” winds through the coastal rainforest all the way to Panama. The trail is a popular hike to the sustainable farm at “<a href="http://www.puntamona.org/">Punta Mona</a>”- which is not accessible by road. If you decide to make the 5km+ hike to Punta Mona, which can take anywhere from 1.5-3 hours depending on the weather, lots of monkeys, sloths, lizards, and birds will keep you company along the way. Another 45 min-1 hour hike past Punta Mona will bring you to the town of Gandoca- which is even smaller than Manzanillo, if you can believe it.<br />Manzanillo is also known for its beautiful beach and good surfing. Cement tables are spread out under the trees, just before the shore, an<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIkSF3oJ0-jrOEt-XcfMG0SD10YGQ9xoAJJIWUAOOtbALIZ8sxE8Sm-s38TQ2piLPYBe-5T4cZDgSttAjyS77HIn4k-ZbAV97dE8yLEkRvqVkNoNryKNPl50ine9QvmByUmCCgAwqHmzFl/s1600/reef.hike.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIkSF3oJ0-jrOEt-XcfMG0SD10YGQ9xoAJJIWUAOOtbALIZ8sxE8Sm-s38TQ2piLPYBe-5T4cZDgSttAjyS77HIn4k-ZbAV97dE8yLEkRvqVkNoNryKNPl50ine9QvmByUmCCgAwqHmzFl/s320/reef.hike.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459694136208741202" border="0" /></a>d it is common to see locals and tourists alike playing cards, hanging out, listening to music, and having lunch. Little shops and a few motels are scattered throughout the town, and all have a distinct Caribbean vibe with Rasta colors painted on the walls, reggae blaring from stereos, and Bob Marley memorabilia for sale.<br />One of the biggest gems in Manzanillo is the restaurant <a href="http://realtravel.com/r-242125-manzanillo_review-best_food_on_the_caribbean_coast_south_of_limon">“Maxi’s”</a>. While prices may be a little expensive, the mouth-watering cuisine is worth it. Be sure to order from the <span style="font-style: italic;">parilla</span> (grill)- there is nothing quite like a plantain right off the grill, or a juicy pork rib with Caribbean sauce (not that I would know about the latter, but it’s what my fiance always orders. The amazing smell of the grilled meat almost makes me want to give up being a vegetarian. Almost). If “Carib<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjr1rLGdf6yiTFS56i5nuYezliiClzP2PyFQVuWnhQ6giaStLEc3jLzCP7Ozp9mSelhAa3eDRzANlzfinxloYpVtOvDPfgdlx4hEFn5A9yDeRAVbOi8NQppbkjCTeyp3pt94CvXcSqfoHb/s1600/maxis.food.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjr1rLGdf6yiTFS56i5nuYezliiClzP2PyFQVuWnhQ6giaStLEc3jLzCP7Ozp9mSelhAa3eDRzANlzfinxloYpVtOvDPfgdlx4hEFn5A9yDeRAVbOi8NQppbkjCTeyp3pt94CvXcSqfoHb/s320/maxis.food.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459694423176880466" border="0" /></a>bean” were a flavor, it would be anything cooked on the grill at Maxi's.<br />Maxi’s also sets the Caribbean scene with walls adorned by soccer banners, old-school reggae and hip-hop playing on the radio, a Caribbean staff who’s ancestors settled in Costa Rica from Jamaica, and a gorgeous view of the Caribbean sea. After hours of snorkelling, diving, hiking, surfing, playing with dolphins, or just lounging on the beach, kicking it at Maxi’s with a plate of food straight off the grill and a view of the sun setting over the Caribbean sea is a perfect ending to a perfect day.<br />Photo Credit: Christena DevlinAvaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3489003281785911990.post-91636514107034118192010-04-09T09:48:00.001-07:002010-04-12T20:19:00.864-07:00Behind the Eyes of Eve<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhBz9cRQpIArXjHRi5_z9lwuepovx7s94ZkEVtj7qHN4OGgAFHoqqS3lOJTeYC-tEv-9B7hpOVJz-BgaWaOVs_gMxNtLIhPgP4TB9-kxSj68dSUFBWP5ueKAeMY-OGEKpcqdxiAZFHziSf/s1600/eyesofeve.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhBz9cRQpIArXjHRi5_z9lwuepovx7s94ZkEVtj7qHN4OGgAFHoqqS3lOJTeYC-tEv-9B7hpOVJz-BgaWaOVs_gMxNtLIhPgP4TB9-kxSj68dSUFBWP5ueKAeMY-OGEKpcqdxiAZFHziSf/s320/eyesofeve.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458180969523347410" border="0" /></a><br />Before I left for Costa Rica, I found myself in the basement of <a href="http://www.d-structuresf.com/">D-Structure</a> on Haight St. in San Francisco, sitting on a stool behind a shelf of clothes, getting my face done up in gold powder. Racks of clothes, stacks of boxes, and dozens of shelves towered over the cold, cement floor. It was the underbelly of the store, that was for sure. And yet, the space was somehow inviting. I have to accredit this to the a<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5CjOyz1gTfFUzTFdro64O6tdQr5gb8_Myww2QK71EiUOwNF1vVpJQlpIHMNVDB5-dJmO7uGyx6Vie1cg8TT3ElspkpTC6mp_G49K_MlF2CaVxw1brpL8kPP_M78pOoSKF76H-5Xs-l6nM/s1600/eyesofeve2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5CjOyz1gTfFUzTFdro64O6tdQr5gb8_Myww2QK71EiUOwNF1vVpJQlpIHMNVDB5-dJmO7uGyx6Vie1cg8TT3ElspkpTC6mp_G49K_MlF2CaVxw1brpL8kPP_M78pOoSKF76H-5Xs-l6nM/s320/eyesofeve2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458180819029723570" border="0" /></a>mazing women who were involved in the photo shoot. There was Linda, who was doing my makeup and gossiping like the hairstylist she is. She had the kind of wit and sarcasm that could keep you in stitches. It was quite a challenge not to double over in laughter as she was applying my makeup. The risk of getting poked in the eye, however, helped keep me composed.<br />A woman named Sam was the photographer for the evening. She knew just how to direct the models and walked that fine line between bossy and nice. I definitely like a woman who can take charge! And so much better coming from a woman than a man... for obvious reasons.<br />And, of course, there was Dee Kennedy, the woman behind it all. The shoot was for her gemstone line, "<a href="http://www.theeyesofeve.com/">Eyes of Eve</a>"; sparkling gemstones that could be worn as bindis and faux piercings, among other things. Dee is quite the innovative woman. She's one of those people who has a million ideas swirling in her h<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEsrAFPls1476U-qEHuZmMQhhOo__N22s2XEhwhirlj_qIYz1luuh57Gapmu0ddhN2iMq2iK84TXyBORdJ-kW9aGk6sPfz3JtIAZ-AHzByGQtPIOJ4wjBiA7lh7lDIs2agVna-2L0otPar/s1600/eyesofevedee.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEsrAFPls1476U-qEHuZmMQhhOo__N22s2XEhwhirlj_qIYz1luuh57Gapmu0ddhN2iMq2iK84TXyBORdJ-kW9aGk6sPfz3JtIAZ-AHzByGQtPIOJ4wjBiA7lh7lDIs2agVna-2L0otPar/s320/eyesofevedee.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458180891244076738" border="0" /></a>ead- and she actually does something about it. She models, is the executive director of <a href="http://www.vagaboom.org/">VAGABOOM!</a> (a children's art educational non-profit in San Francisco), is in the band Think 13, is a tour organizer (her tours to Egypt are definitely worth checking out), owns the <a href="http://www.theeyesofeve.com/">Eyes of Eve</a> jewelry line, and is also a High Priestess. Yeah, pretty amazing. Oh, and not to mention that she's both gorgeous and super nice. The camaraderie during the photo shoot reminded me of hanging out with my girlfriends when I was 15; lots of giggles, zero pretentiousness, and an embarrassing amount of girl power. As well, I was happy because I got to model with my sword. And I love modeling with my sword. The more pics I have of me and that sword, the better! Because a girl with a sword is just so bad-ass. Especially when she's wearing Eyes of Eve.<br />Photo Credit: Sam O'Connor<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKbtQ_SAgO8jj3Jwkts_MBm9rJ1B8lTsCTwWZyQw0tEpo9IeRyPlyVP8BfNs-6endgsywMnZP3pp1X3W-IPMj-GxrdY2HRvFCnjezYb25DEuPKKfZtvZC-KrFT4oxsmgBuSDePmNE_9659/s1600/eyesofeve1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKbtQ_SAgO8jj3Jwkts_MBm9rJ1B8lTsCTwWZyQw0tEpo9IeRyPlyVP8BfNs-6endgsywMnZP3pp1X3W-IPMj-GxrdY2HRvFCnjezYb25DEuPKKfZtvZC-KrFT4oxsmgBuSDePmNE_9659/s320/eyesofeve1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5458180738772903378" border="0" /></a>Avaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3489003281785911990.post-57853207738236219372010-04-04T08:22:00.001-07:002010-04-04T08:33:20.770-07:00Taking the Plunge<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilZQn4DGtb1XlwI7OUcNR2vqkk3NuLrmzZvOVycF1sY86JJHOdIPBStRSULtKvRsDWT_E5pjWK2R6vO9qyNUK1obiqgpISO9ky1odPUC-Bf1OWjyjRWCtQ07kBgsyhM4mmFfOtDr7QRYzo/s1600/bribrifalls2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilZQn4DGtb1XlwI7OUcNR2vqkk3NuLrmzZvOVycF1sY86JJHOdIPBStRSULtKvRsDWT_E5pjWK2R6vO9qyNUK1obiqgpISO9ky1odPUC-Bf1OWjyjRWCtQ07kBgsyhM4mmFfOtDr7QRYzo/s320/bribrifalls2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456303237629284594" border="0" /></a>Jumping off a thirty-five foot cliff into the rapids of a waterfall can make you feel like Tarzan. After an hour of watching the local teenage boys jump from various heights to the churning water below, I decided to take the plunge myself. A part of me wanted to do it because it looked like a thrilling experience (and it was), and a part of me wanted to simply show the boys that a girl could do it, too.<br />Of course, I took a bit longer than the local boys did. My friend, Randy, and I scaled the cliff and hovered fearfully at the edge for a good five minutes or so before taking that bold leap. The jump was exhilarating- I felt high for hours after- and it took longer than I expected to hit the water. My friends watching below told me that my legs did a little nervous kick about five feet before I touched water. Yup, that was abo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpSKK19nTNBrjF4XNUMMr_8LdV31-NpFCbYzpoPFY4qeQk_fvN9fX9Efw8-cPF5vBGnlbWB_NdAD5YFQxu660Q_M9e-jObnHaWaojWFed6ga0vncapSUJs4jT0s-52aSY-ax_6w3_kVXnT/s1600/IMG_0778.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpSKK19nTNBrjF4XNUMMr_8LdV31-NpFCbYzpoPFY4qeQk_fvN9fX9Efw8-cPF5vBGnlbWB_NdAD5YFQxu660Q_M9e-jObnHaWaojWFed6ga0vncapSUJs4jT0s-52aSY-ax_6w3_kVXnT/s320/IMG_0778.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456303880339654226" border="0" /></a>ut the point where I freaked out and thought “Why haven’t I landed yet?!!! What’s taking so long?!!!” Never in my life have I spent so much time in the air. I didn’t feel like a bird, though, more like a heavy rock- or Tarzan, without his slick jungle skills.<br />Bri Bri Falls is located in Costa Rica’s Southern Caribbean, along the highway that stretches from Hone Creek to Bri Bri. Lots of local tour companies offer a trip to the falls for $15-$25, but it is much cheaper (and just as easy) to take a taxi or a bus. Just let the driver know that you want to go to the <span style="font-style: italic;">cataracas</span>- they’ll know where to stop.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIEYfIs7kZj16qgnAYUAvwdx9KezdjVuNyJ5r9CfW-g42maH0UM729SCAHqn1Gz3Vme-hvPFpTSMrf9DK-b11SMmkqzYgPFioo48uBQmFFL6HH-1x8iaa1kZSmYm4teYvyAlGPmKyAZ9Tq/s1600/IMG_0796.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIEYfIs7kZj16qgnAYUAvwdx9KezdjVuNyJ5r9CfW-g42maH0UM729SCAHqn1Gz3Vme-hvPFpTSMrf9DK-b11SMmkqzYgPFioo48uBQmFFL6HH-1x8iaa1kZSmYm4teYvyAlGPmKyAZ9Tq/s320/IMG_0796.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456303603717300722" border="0" /></a><br />Another reason to take a bus or taxi is because the tour companies do not often give any of the profit to the man who owns Bri Bri falls. And after meeting Santos, you can’t help but want to give the man some money for all the hard work and effort he makes to keep the falls clean, safe, and beautiful. He definitely lives up to his name, which means “saint”. There is a stairway that descends into the jungle and to the falls, which is always free of litter and well-kempt due to Santos’ weed whacking with the machete.<br />I first went to the falls by taxi. Santos was waiting at the entrance, and asked for a meagre donation of one dollar. After an exhilarating and refreshing experience of swimming under and around the two waterfalls, I was glad to contribute <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5JcdlxWFqmUD9qfQzDRRRrh_UcajV1nBBaJDnada3mpPp9g7lzLLjfGF5gdArTWqKPSv-c84YxdF1t49G093YqodOQK1AICCCTjzarQjOGEZlH5ky-P_59HVnRIpsFWcluacbXAnBmeg8/s1600/bribrifalls.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5JcdlxWFqmUD9qfQzDRRRrh_UcajV1nBBaJDnada3mpPp9g7lzLLjfGF5gdArTWqKPSv-c84YxdF1t49G093YqodOQK1AICCCTjzarQjOGEZlH5ky-P_59HVnRIpsFWcluacbXAnBmeg8/s320/bribrifalls.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456303360991068050" border="0" /></a>something to this kind-hearted man. Santos even came down to the falls that day to point out the big rocks that were hidden under the rapids; the current was strong that day, and he didn’t want my friend and I to be injured. He also provides bathrooms free of charge and sells a variety of refreshments from a small fridge. Santos dreams of one day opening a small café/bar at the entrance to the falls. For now, the “café” is a small structure with a table, a fridge, and bunches of bananas and plantains (for sale at a good price) hanging from the beams.<br />The rapids were too strong that first day to do much besides swim, but the water was calmer and an exquisite shade of blue the second<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1IclwmQPkZUGUngdbM8bAY8qvQ9Dvvfyh3Q4-A_0QpeJJY2IvngmVCKYXSS9dMImdd8D3eY5Ftcwy-5szOxBnM92WaBfZceRwoFVo3u9z_-xCvnQGDrIb5gBXro8pXTg-P59ng-WPhfbK/s1600/bribrifalls1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1IclwmQPkZUGUngdbM8bAY8qvQ9Dvvfyh3Q4-A_0QpeJJY2IvngmVCKYXSS9dMImdd8D3eY5Ftcwy-5szOxBnM92WaBfZceRwoFVo3u9z_-xCvnQGDrIb5gBXro8pXTg-P59ng-WPhfbK/s320/bribrifalls1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456303968871787122" border="0" /></a> time I visited. On that day, I decided to be brave and jumped off the top of the smaller waterfall. My boyfriend and our two friends, of course, followed suit. I also managed to swim behind and then under the larger waterfall, with the help of my boyfriend.<br />By the third time I visited, the rain falls had died down and the waterfalls were smaller, and the currents less forceful. Swimming behind and under the waterfall was much easier, and the whole place seemed less intimidating. Hence, my bold (and successful) attempt at cliff diving (or is it jumping, if you go feet first?).<br />However, Santos is the real Tarzan of Bri Bri Falls. After watching him walk barefoot through a highway of cutter ants, I asked him why he wasn’t afraid of being bitten. He thumped his chest and said in Spanish, “I am like Tarzan! I live with the ants!” It made me rethink my own Tarzan experience; sure, I’ll jump off a cliff into a waterfall, but there’s no way you’re going to catch this <span style="font-style: italic;">gringa</span> walking barefoot through a bunch of biting ants.Avaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3489003281785911990.post-73843172781230669872010-03-20T09:08:00.000-07:002010-03-24T09:26:34.333-07:00Monkey Business<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje3gwPXur02v-RqeJWmrRY_thqrkWH9eDdfMuZro8_zpvjv3fa1RVs_EKwRe9tmoFgkNpfd1BcuD3pROzTvYK-bvc-Jxkohuc7slpO2kUKt8hNxpOLS679gsBYRBtFVvTQcsYFRdJHo40A/s1600-h/IMG_0619.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje3gwPXur02v-RqeJWmrRY_thqrkWH9eDdfMuZro8_zpvjv3fa1RVs_EKwRe9tmoFgkNpfd1BcuD3pROzTvYK-bvc-Jxkohuc7slpO2kUKt8hNxpOLS679gsBYRBtFVvTQcsYFRdJHo40A/s320/IMG_0619.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450749900282512402" border="0" /></a><br />Being alone with the monkeys in the monkey house seemed like a good idea at the time! But there is a big difference between having one monkey on your head and having seven. Plus, by the time I was done my four hour volunteer shift, I was covered head to toe in monkey shit. I’ve never smelled better!<br />The <a href="http://www.jaguarrescue.com/">Jaguar Animal Rescue Center</a> is located on the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica, just down t<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJSthOFwvPRaA6swhJrmSm9bkG7oSr9I2EUg8XJlrGXYFLQb5x4WHN-iqAj-qLOWgNkMlZH5JmeHbJ7x_xQTjKjgCUqRaXZ6AwaAyCiwWeXSU4BZfHb7nk5P6UGrzjiVHNBJV8FVm_YILp/s1600-h/IMG_0647.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJSthOFwvPRaA6swhJrmSm9bkG7oSr9I2EUg8XJlrGXYFLQb5x4WHN-iqAj-qLOWgNkMlZH5JmeHbJ7x_xQTjKjgCUqRaXZ6AwaAyCiwWeXSU4BZfHb7nk5P6UGrzjiVHNBJV8FVm_YILp/s320/IMG_0647.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450750078787650914" border="0" /></a>he road from my house, in Cocles. The ten dollars for the one and a half hour tour goes 100% to the center. Besides, the tour is more than worth the cost. Wild cats, hawks, caimans, frogs, sloths, owls, dozens of snakes, and monkeys are just some of the animals you will see and learn about on the tour.<br />And you get to go into the monkey house. Ten bucks to play with the monkeys? It’s the best deal going!<br />After I went on a tour, I decided I want<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjckOWmsUY-lQEyLjm7iK8BkIBpbpsoAr5c2AOXH9vFpjyzNUvyVMXOoyMQGhcxNF4acN_L_LTKFDo1iD2i9fo9iDYt7wfbUMNZ6t3WyUzQJLy6EfZtbb0tQKMOmAIEcPlTi7LDoYw_MGcM/s1600-h/IMG_0662.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjckOWmsUY-lQEyLjm7iK8BkIBpbpsoAr5c2AOXH9vFpjyzNUvyVMXOoyMQGhcxNF4acN_L_LTKFDo1iD2i9fo9iDYt7wfbUMNZ6t3WyUzQJLy6EfZtbb0tQKMOmAIEcPlTi7LDoYw_MGcM/s320/IMG_0662.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450750309922690834" border="0" /></a>ed to volunteer. The job has been a little bit messier than I thought, but it’s also been loads of fun. We got a pair of one-month old monkeys in the other day. The monkeys like to hang out on our heads. Can you think of anything cuter than having a baby monkey in a sock on your head?<br />All eight of the monkeys have their own, unique personalities, along with names that the workers have given them. The two youngest (before the babies arrived) are Marilyn Monroe and Ang<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhfImmkyM-oOsxksh3sQ6IqHttkiJwTY2sG2B9QMfX5M7V3Qz9CXg7uYPhB_oLGvklOQ8ilkZgnzYKj1WuA-kYu0riADu4eyh57VZWIwd3lU9in4gSv7Qn_EUcjDNn191Qwm_6LV9Ul2Qx/s1600-h/IMG_0646.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhfImmkyM-oOsxksh3sQ6IqHttkiJwTY2sG2B9QMfX5M7V3Qz9CXg7uYPhB_oLGvklOQ8ilkZgnzYKj1WuA-kYu0riADu4eyh57VZWIwd3lU9in4gSv7Qn_EUcjDNn191Qwm_6LV9Ul2Qx/s320/IMG_0646.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450750562133413218" border="0" /></a>elina Jolie; they think they’re the stars of the Jaguar Rescue Center and act accordingly. Minimo is the brattiest and likes to chew on camera straps, break sunglasses, and suck on your hair. Congalita has a lady beard, and is the oldest and therefore the head of the pack. Being a lady with a beard is really only something a monkey can pull off!<br />My favourite animal at the center, though, is Sleepy the three-toed sloth. He has a perpetual smile on his face and loves everyone he sees. Sleepy will hang out on my stomach, like an infant, with his arms wrap<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFrgYSR5MF6eyIC1L6o-eXjsmRMjr0yZX03mLxd5rX-XZ6FgW3aORzFT1byNvd4xaaQj9dN0vqX2NxksPpi838hbNU4Zp4kkma8OhiImJm3yiV2komiw_FKM3E5etyU8V1WqKGvRoaCRsl/s1600-h/IMG_0660.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFrgYSR5MF6eyIC1L6o-eXjsmRMjr0yZX03mLxd5rX-XZ6FgW3aORzFT1byNvd4xaaQj9dN0vqX2NxksPpi838hbNU4Zp4kkma8OhiImJm3yiV2komiw_FKM3E5etyU8V1WqKGvRoaCRsl/s320/IMG_0660.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450750796242648994" border="0" /></a>ped around me, looking up at me with that smile. How can my heart not melt?<br />Encar and Sandro, the owners, started the Jaguar Rescue Center in their home. The center has now expanded into a compound complete with frog pond, horse stables, barns, animal houses, terrariums, and gardens. The Jaguar Rescue Center relies entirely upon private donations and the money made from the tours. At the end of the day, this doesn’t amount to very much. Still, with the help of the workers <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm0uvmwoKd0_6vEXIOO_ELAbomi8SZg5XEvL1eA14SriSYUnBG96Sd_RDPtoAKasm4LwZ50U1ep3QHc_fC32dbaH6aWvtecl9cUIe0opOyVQe0Wd_0ycRH6vwLpEgSXmNH9W4TdzT0WDHA/s1600-h/IMG_0689.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm0uvmwoKd0_6vEXIOO_ELAbomi8SZg5XEvL1eA14SriSYUnBG96Sd_RDPtoAKasm4LwZ50U1ep3QHc_fC32dbaH6aWvtecl9cUIe0opOyVQe0Wd_0ycRH6vwLpEgSXmNH9W4TdzT0WDHA/s320/IMG_0689.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5450751028366271730" border="0" /></a>and volunteers, the successful tours, and the hard work of Sandro and Encar, the center is thriving.<br />The tours start at 9:30am and 11:30am. Arrive about ten minutes prior to the start, and don’t be late or the tour will begin without you! And remember, hide your camera straps and your glasses, and watch out for Minimo! She’s like curious George, always getting into mischief.<br /><a href="http://www.jaguarrescue.com/">www.jaguarrescue.com</a><br />Photo Credit: Chiao Mei Lin <a href="http://www.evesorange.com/">www.evesorange.com</a>Avaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3489003281785911990.post-59353218905635175522010-03-16T17:26:00.000-07:002010-03-16T17:36:53.057-07:00Que Rico!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwNZmXSEW-63oAuIR1TnvrFCmXaHa1I2kEn8Vgni15Ym_2onUcH-cUk1qHw4JEjD6hP7jf-GstOk8Qf7qSIkN8hL5Osg28qKrXSMJfmuKpNQLP61rraZdaRE0q7AlcT3e7hZHUC66JsChg/s1600-h/IMG_0562.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwNZmXSEW-63oAuIR1TnvrFCmXaHa1I2kEn8Vgni15Ym_2onUcH-cUk1qHw4JEjD6hP7jf-GstOk8Qf7qSIkN8hL5Osg28qKrXSMJfmuKpNQLP61rraZdaRE0q7AlcT3e7hZHUC66JsChg/s320/IMG_0562.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449393527317848354" border="0" /></a>Dancing a set at a restaurant is something I love and hate at the same time. The dynamic is so different from a belly dance show because people aren’t just at the restaurant to see me dance- they’re also there to eat and converse with their friends. A show that is dedicated entirely to the performance typically has the audience transfixed on the dancers; the music is often too loud to speak over, and there isn’t much else to focus on except for maybe the drink in your hand.<br />The flurry of conversation, the way a good meal can dominate your senses, and the constant distractions of a restaurant environment can be intimidating for a performer. That is to say, I have to compete with the food and conversation for the attention of the audience. Sometimes, when a restaurant is full and the people have chosen that place primarily because there was going to be a show, the excitement and commotion of the restaurant adds to t<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0TqtFFdlUmjMhAEDUHV35oZCrO_whOFbyF1-0lnj3WQv6tPe1OE9m78c7zP3eIhd_lnwG1s6_udE3VKluIYfYbHPYv-jb1isiMLxgSMqsXMGcfoL2fQ64gkKs7H3yjSfr7eTDTdWoVI6S/s1600-h/IMG_6110.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0TqtFFdlUmjMhAEDUHV35oZCrO_whOFbyF1-0lnj3WQv6tPe1OE9m78c7zP3eIhd_lnwG1s6_udE3VKluIYfYbHPYv-jb1isiMLxgSMqsXMGcfoL2fQ64gkKs7H3yjSfr7eTDTdWoVI6S/s320/IMG_6110.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449393172377111634" border="0" /></a>he set and makes it easier to perform. Then there are the times when I will look around and suddenly realize that not one person is watching me. Those moments generally only last for a few seconds, but during that time, I have to perform entirely for myself. It becomes like dancing alone in my room, except that at the restaurant there are people sitting all around. Occasionally, it can be a good thing when no one is watching; if I mess up no one sees.<br />Another benefit is that traveling from table to table, which takes up a good portion of the song. A shimmy here, a shimmy there- simple dance steps and easy to fill up time. Of course, the negative of going from table to table is that sometimes I feel as if I am intruding upon someone’s dinner. There have definitely been cases in which a table of people didn’t realize there was going to be a show, and aren’t entirely thrilled that music and dancing are interrupting what they had hoped to be an intimate and quiet dinner.<br />Overall, though, I love dancing at restaurants. I love the diversity of the people- that belly dance is exposed to people who would never attend a belly dance show. It’s great to be dancing and to <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgJ4_Om7qIChRJOJ0mkbTZklEDmJmqexFijAi121HOrZ4nqCO9LHRrQF9Dlm50w8W6x0pWfOQ9Je_XRKHtsSmxL2qc9vPR_41MCpC1Zoux1IAiJQZznCVQCQUVxv2EmrBKisMKu5jyHAaV/s1600-h/IMG_0561.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgJ4_Om7qIChRJOJ0mkbTZklEDmJmqexFijAi121HOrZ4nqCO9LHRrQF9Dlm50w8W6x0pWfOQ9Je_XRKHtsSmxL2qc9vPR_41MCpC1Zoux1IAiJQZznCVQCQUVxv2EmrBKisMKu5jyHAaV/s320/IMG_0561.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449394481611537042" border="0" /></a>look around and see a little kid imitating me, while over at another table an old man is attempting to do a shoulder shimmy as a joke for his friends, and the waitresses are watching me with rapt attention, the desire to dance being sparked.<br />In Costa Rica, I dance at several restaurants, including Café Rio Negro, Chili Rojo, Loco Natural, and Que Rico Papito! at the La Costa de Papito hotel. A perk is that all the restaurants feed me in addition to payment. There is something so satisfying about finishing a dance set and then immediately sitting down to a good meal. All the restaurants I mentioned serve delicious food and if you ever find yourself on the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica, they are well worth the visit.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZWzMly9EqZPBLJ0igNq7NNUPYISWmMeS2wTYbugMHWs08FhCTkeHL9cV6I2DC7jxwL3Q_iNtz2W9qOE2WNUZPS8e8fWFiPs21WPtcaiDyIlszxrL2WFxk2WfieioX1w3PZZMn1s_J3YQk/s1600-h/IMG_0531.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZWzMly9EqZPBLJ0igNq7NNUPYISWmMeS2wTYbugMHWs08FhCTkeHL9cV6I2DC7jxwL3Q_iNtz2W9qOE2WNUZPS8e8fWFiPs21WPtcaiDyIlszxrL2WFxk2WfieioX1w3PZZMn1s_J3YQk/s320/IMG_0531.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5449394962528584082" border="0" /></a><br />Sometimes the nights are slow, sometimes they are packed full of people, but the food is always good!<br />Also, dancing in Costa Rica is a good lesson in adaptation. I have been unable to find a suitable travel case for my sword, so when I'm down in the jungle, I use a machete. The locals can never believe their eyes when they see me balancing a machete on my head. And really, a machete is just so bad ass. I mean, would you mess with a girl who had a machete? It definitely keeps the cat calls at bay!Avaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3489003281785911990.post-91977649650434796902010-03-03T10:13:00.000-08:002010-03-03T10:21:57.397-08:00Falling Trees<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzxU8NsAaZvxP_1KuP4P0AzoNEgoeylyjGVNTzEBi1jA1yKcoPG785yXgs7Gz_c9Q_3ZglCWJ2D5zpksTIPY5JJtSxy4wbC5RM_Z2PA-yiKLU_8e0PSl9ppmjNtTjXZDrUm5xy8-EsrSW_/s1600-h/IMG_1436.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzxU8NsAaZvxP_1KuP4P0AzoNEgoeylyjGVNTzEBi1jA1yKcoPG785yXgs7Gz_c9Q_3ZglCWJ2D5zpksTIPY5JJtSxy4wbC5RM_Z2PA-yiKLU_8e0PSl9ppmjNtTjXZDrUm5xy8-EsrSW_/s320/IMG_1436.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5444473044872664482" border="0" /></a>If a tree falls in the middle of the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? Hell, yes, it does! At least, it does if you’re in the rainforest. And it not only makes a sound, but also causes a giant ripple of chaos. The earth shakes, other trees get felled in its path, animals and homes get crushed, power lines go down, and so forth.<br />In Costa Rica (where I live part time), if a tree falls in one town, it can mean a blackout for the next town over. Tree falling weather is such a big deal that people take out extra insurance in case a tree falls on their house.<br />Heavy rain is what causes the trees to fall, and right now, we’ve got some heavy rain on the Caribbean coast. A tree fell across the road a few days ago and took out the phone lines. No internet for days, which wouldn’t be such a big deal if I wasn’t trying to blog, organize a tour for my dance company director, and organize a belly dance intensive to Egypt. What made me think that I could accomplish all that while living in the rainforest? I guess living in an urban center for part of the year makes me forget what it’s like to live in a rural village down in the tropics.<br />Falling trees have some interesting positives, though. The bromeliads that grow high in the branches become accessible and make a beautiful addition to my garden. The wildlife that comes out of the tree make worthy photographs. Take the wicked scorpion that crawled out of the tree that fell on our road last year; I hadn’t seen a scorpion in the wild until then. And come to think about it, I hope that’s the last time I see one! The thing looked like a vicious, little alien.<br />We used to have a beautiful, old growth tree in our yard. We even paid extra to extend the property when we bought it, just so we could have the tree included. Ironically, a few months later we found out that the tree was diseased and rotting and would most likely come crashing down at some point, so we had to cut it down. The pieces of the massive tree trunk are still in our backyard- cutting them up and burning them seems like too big of a job for us to tackle just yet.<br />The most unfortunate thing, however, is that the wood from the old growth trees is too soft to use for anything besides mulch for the garden. Of course, deep in the rainforest, fallen trees are merely a part of the ecosystem. I guess all the broken power lines, damaged houses, and blocked roads are our own fault for moving into nature’s playground. And I better take out some house insurance soon, because I think the tree across the road has an eye on my house and is biding its time to come crashing down for when I least expect it. In Costa Rica, trees have a mind of their own!Avaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3489003281785911990.post-44192751868348413442010-02-25T11:28:00.000-08:002010-02-25T11:52:10.103-08:00Osama Bin Laden and Belly Dance??? REALLY?!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMrZ-CrrPo8QGR1ahRZEVj08h0kmDCKE6woifS4h6_SnC0bnlcHIAY41ACsJWCs6t9D7DBN0k83_Q24mmekaFqdeLPTtQvuOrwnsbt1oEk5-34hRCiL729PO2fkiRTcDn1EWRGBk3GVJ79/s1600-h/kali_s_website_fat-chance-belly-dance.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 268px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMrZ-CrrPo8QGR1ahRZEVj08h0kmDCKE6woifS4h6_SnC0bnlcHIAY41ACsJWCs6t9D7DBN0k83_Q24mmekaFqdeLPTtQvuOrwnsbt1oEk5-34hRCiL729PO2fkiRTcDn1EWRGBk3GVJ79/s320/kali_s_website_fat-chance-belly-dance.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442269856467697682" border="0" /></a><br />Recently, Jesse Waters- one of the producers of the “<a href="http://www.foxnews.com/oreilly/">The O'Reilly Factor</a>”- attended a belly dance competition in LA. The purpose of his investigation was unclear in his interviews and commentary, but of all the conclusions he could have come up with, the point he decided to stress was that 9/11- and Osama Bin Laden in particular- is responsible for the rising popularity of belly dance in America. The clip- along with dozens of comments from outraged belly dancers- can be found on you tube, face book walls, and <a href="http://www.mediaite.com/tv/bill-oreilly-exposes-osama-bin-ladens-influence-on-belly-dancing/">various websites</a>.<br />The outrage felt by belly dancers at Waters’ and O’Reilly’s comments is understan<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiet-HPxTC24_0V_VXStMYBCILveO7F9KyCj0CZHSghaKUIkHuILE13IKfmqCIgw8PDg4sit-a1U08EtT1PQKPe1vxVY_ztoYqnfSzHxtgXoikMSGe2QrqI2wn4elvGWNjw8HJov5QFJBq_/s1600-h/000_0066.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiet-HPxTC24_0V_VXStMYBCILveO7F9KyCj0CZHSghaKUIkHuILE13IKfmqCIgw8PDg4sit-a1U08EtT1PQKPe1vxVY_ztoYqnfSzHxtgXoikMSGe2QrqI2wn4elvGWNjw8HJov5QFJBq_/s320/000_0066.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442269299369117778" border="0" /></a>dable. I don’t know any dancers who took up belly dancing because 9/11 made them curious about Arabic culture. Usually, women take up belly dancing as a way to get in shape, to express themselves, to connect with other women, and a myriad of other reasons. Classes contain a diverse mix of ages, ethnicities, and body sizes, and it follows that the motives for belly dancing are just as diverse.<br />Furthermore, if anything, 9/11 has caused an increased ignorance of Arabic culture, rather than a curiosity about it. Bill O’Reilly proves this himself during the interview when he says that a woman "would be behead if she did that in a Muslim country”. Obviously, O’Reilly is more ignorant than curious, because if he was curious than he would be interested to know tha<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLvGwMG9mNpB54msa9VHiGbp2Sx-nYNrL_YLpFR-9Z2qoPREg8PWeFz7HcWVxKk9nvEWoC0NejEqRbsje1zhRy16ayviFfvXYEfxuzHecsT3FolCAA29peIGMl_49SVggFhSAuM9KXTVpd/s1600-h/919.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLvGwMG9mNpB54msa9VHiGbp2Sx-nYNrL_YLpFR-9Z2qoPREg8PWeFz7HcWVxKk9nvEWoC0NejEqRbsje1zhRy16ayviFfvXYEfxuzHecsT3FolCAA29peIGMl_49SVggFhSAuM9KXTVpd/s320/919.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442270604417360066" border="0" /></a>t belly dancing is very popular in countries like Egypt and Turkey, where both Islam and belly dance co-exist peacefully.<br />A friend of mine and prominent Egyptian dancer, <a href="http://www.sausanacademy.com/">Sausan Molthen</a>, has observed that there is a boom in belly dance roughly every ten years. Trends ebb and flow, especially in the dance world. Also, part of the rise in popularity is due to the emergence of tribal belly dance in the 1980s; from which a number of belly dance genres have sprung forth. From the 1990s to present day, dancers have seen an explosion of belly dance styles, including <a href="http://www.fcbd.com/">American Tribal Style</a>, <a href="http://www.myspace.com/foxglovesweethearts">Tribal Fusion</a>, <a href="http://www.gothicbellydance.com/">Gothic Belly Dance</a>, and <a href="http://www.myspace.com/carouselbellydance">Belly Dance Theatre</a>. From these have emerged a variety of fusions, as well: belly dance fused with ballet, modern dance, hip hop, jazz, Turkish Ro<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwZAbiTuArVx9xaCgImiWo42yrc78Ayf-ZKAJVJvnjQjC9K-90DS3VXt5TQ8d98dl1xFG4S7J1tUij0x8Qh27JXNnm1TZDOuUjJm4RGdOMfL-JIXupVSh1VmBUwlIBD7YZ3MrM7sZbT6LL/s1600-h/1204770054_Egyptian+Belly+Dance+2_800x600.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwZAbiTuArVx9xaCgImiWo42yrc78Ayf-ZKAJVJvnjQjC9K-90DS3VXt5TQ8d98dl1xFG4S7J1tUij0x8Qh27JXNnm1TZDOuUjJm4RGdOMfL-JIXupVSh1VmBUwlIBD7YZ3MrM7sZbT6LL/s320/1204770054_Egyptian+Belly+Dance+2_800x600.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442270756470912194" border="0" /></a>ma, and so forth. Belly dance has become popular in America not because of 9/11, but because so many dedicated teachers and dancers have been working their asses off to spread and promote their art.<br />The ignorance in Waters’ and O’Reilly’s segment was truly astounding. Waters seemed shocked that there were children in attendance at the competition and O’Reilly followed up by saying that belly dancing should be reserved for ages 16 and up. My jaw dropped on that one. In some cultures, children start learning to dance before they can walk. And the way a child belly dances is very different than the way an adult dances. Children look adorable when they belly dance, not<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh887M-Xz43PIcdyZf2s3f89lQtzC6FGlvut0p6rnd8C9eRWm8csqPsPmI5Vq7KCFkjL-XIGqk1YyxxgZ64kyWHhw9g7rUK83PUu_D6SNq_AP7z7isI6EdvLXiSfp0W6Mhyphenhyphen8fqPWvXW4FGF/s1600-h/sashidiva.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh887M-Xz43PIcdyZf2s3f89lQtzC6FGlvut0p6rnd8C9eRWm8csqPsPmI5Vq7KCFkjL-XIGqk1YyxxgZ64kyWHhw9g7rUK83PUu_D6SNq_AP7z7isI6EdvLXiSfp0W6Mhyphenhyphen8fqPWvXW4FGF/s320/sashidiva.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442271143206684226" border="0" /></a> sexually indecent like O’Reilly implies. Certainly, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IPJN9I9pviw">this clip</a> shows that even a five year old girl can belly dance- without losing any of her innocence. Besides, children are often better belly dancers than adults because their bodies are so flexible. There are two boys I know in Costa Rica that can do better belly rolls than any dancer I know- even better than <a href="http://www.theindigo.com/">Rachel Brice</a>!<br />It would be great if Waters and O’Reilly had developed a curiously about Arabic culture after 9/11, rather than the ignorance that they continue to show. Or maybe they should both get their asses to a belly dance class and learn what it’s all about first hand- because <a href="http://www.zadiel.de/">men</a> can be belly dancers, too!Avaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3489003281785911990.post-25589146142676977852010-02-19T16:27:00.001-08:002010-02-19T16:36:12.594-08:00Let's Duet<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Vsnbiw9tEsqaurT7lqTMj8hgVkD_x2Kfx9a6NZEfq0CoPYw9EEnJ56nubN36xzRsx84y_vZpj2Jga-wGgQ8w7Tn8utd8kuWB_BaL_AT-dcCBSMCzUcwFcMVIacQhXarYVCT3C9e5ZC2p/s1600-h/bdaydance8.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-Vsnbiw9tEsqaurT7lqTMj8hgVkD_x2Kfx9a6NZEfq0CoPYw9EEnJ56nubN36xzRsx84y_vZpj2Jga-wGgQ8w7Tn8utd8kuWB_BaL_AT-dcCBSMCzUcwFcMVIacQhXarYVCT3C9e5ZC2p/s320/bdaydance8.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440116525051570530" border="0" /></a>Belly dance isn’t often thought of as partner dancing, but duet troupes are quite common. Sometimes, I forget that people often don’t know this, and I get strange looks when I mention my dance “partner”. Then they think that maybe they’ve misheard me and that I’m a ballet dancer instead of a belly dancer. It’s a slippery slope from there!<br />I’ve had a belly dance partner from the beginning. A dancer <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTrjxR1C4QMuZ9OK2GQ_spvqngGvjl5FF5u7gTyGt2GIYu0NjsXRq-FPlDlDrfrd3nSE-Jh9JB17Rhce8iYjOysOIZbb_4Qvao3WSucMHyzDXTW_upYKHksGnxbwHHOGTMYRoG4uqRqZyx/s1600-h/punkrockfridge.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTrjxR1C4QMuZ9OK2GQ_spvqngGvjl5FF5u7gTyGt2GIYu0NjsXRq-FPlDlDrfrd3nSE-Jh9JB17Rhce8iYjOysOIZbb_4Qvao3WSucMHyzDXTW_upYKHksGnxbwHHOGTMYRoG4uqRqZyx/s320/punkrockfridge.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440116767434850450" border="0" /></a>named Julz was my first partner. She was the one who dragged my ass out to classes and got my interest in belly dance sparked. I was such a novice at that time, and Julz was a great teacher. She taught me how to balance a sword, showed me floor work patterns, and introduced me to all sorts of music. Most importantly, she taught me how to choreograph as a team. As in, how to choreograph without arguing and biting each other’s heads off. It can be a challenge to compromise on your creative ideas, but the payoff is choreography that is often times much more interesting than what you would have come up with on your ow<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcbzUmnPt1Nx1ra1gdt3irqA6a5uS65jptid19Ho9O6ESmswJLJOhSIYb7pkGyPfLfNAdycY7bJTI0CmrkRpK8Vkc1XuOwjGrf1SdSZI8Oetx5S8iHA_gKRSrFjd69lj0GUMNlGqX5TEVN/s1600-h/000_0054.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcbzUmnPt1Nx1ra1gdt3irqA6a5uS65jptid19Ho9O6ESmswJLJOhSIYb7pkGyPfLfNAdycY7bJTI0CmrkRpK8Vkc1XuOwjGrf1SdSZI8Oetx5S8iHA_gKRSrFjd69lj0GUMNlGqX5TEVN/s320/000_0054.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440117302346424434" border="0" /></a>n.<br />Presently, I have a duet company with Alodiah Lunar called “Carousel Belly Dance”. Alodiah is another gem of a dance partner. Both she and I were at approximately the same skill level when we met, and due to our amazing temperaments (pat on the back), we’ve been able to work together on a pretty much equal basis. We have a natural symbiosis that results in an equal input of song and choreography ideas. Also, we have a tendency to feed off of each other’s momentum when we’re choreographing. We’ve choreographed whole songs in a matter of days! Now that’s team work. Another bonus is that we both like belly dancing to old jazz music. It’s made for some cute little numbers!<br />Last year in Costa Rica, I had the experience of bein<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgifq8V-TVPqWR2IQzllQRGO-VB7DH-GUrTmlubK_Zt2RLWEazdF_zBV-KrL1frhnsqh56k3rbEpR7ii9HNjnDiGGIy7aV1aWN7ciCxdJTXMENRKGjyZWasfpENQEO8G-FLP8A8zjpzs8mw/s1600-h/P1260015.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgifq8V-TVPqWR2IQzllQRGO-VB7DH-GUrTmlubK_Zt2RLWEazdF_zBV-KrL1frhnsqh56k3rbEpR7ii9HNjnDiGGIy7aV1aWN7ciCxdJTXMENRKGjyZWasfpENQEO8G-FLP8A8zjpzs8mw/s320/P1260015.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440117665652438770" border="0" /></a>g the teacher and working as a duo with my student, Molly- very much the reverse of Julz and I. Molly and I performed together at Chili Rojo-one of the local restaurants- and it was so nice to have a dance partner again after performing solo for several weeks. Seeing Molly grow and improve as a dancer and collaborating with her was so rewarding. It hit me that things had come full circle for me.<br />I flew into Costa Rica a few days ago, leaving Alodiah behind in San Francisco and Julz in Los Angeles. But I’m looking forward to seeing Molly again. After a year’s time, I’m sure she has become a completely different dancer. And I have a feeling that we’re going to put on some great shows.Avaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3489003281785911990.post-935158668160544912010-02-15T19:19:00.000-08:002010-02-15T19:27:21.881-08:00Surfing the Couches!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEfp6eSr6IIt1xUjgEDksgbZ_NU_37OREAuOKClEuYy62lfRucZ7D2eYxhGsLpIF-bY9TkCZIMIUakcSapF-GfZgith1-jjXCTO9dVY2lqYUhDBKJx4k5OjY4EvFWXnHncNwsY7svi6IoU/s1600-h/DSCF2205.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEfp6eSr6IIt1xUjgEDksgbZ_NU_37OREAuOKClEuYy62lfRucZ7D2eYxhGsLpIF-bY9TkCZIMIUakcSapF-GfZgith1-jjXCTO9dVY2lqYUhDBKJx4k5OjY4EvFWXnHncNwsY7svi6IoU/s320/DSCF2205.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438676341334430834" border="0" /></a>Two weeks of couch surfing and my blog writing has suffered. Zero blogs in two weeks! My cheeks are burning from the shame. But when you’re a traveling belly dancer, sometimes sacrifices have to be made.<br />For those of you who have couch surfed, I’m sure you can identify with the chaos that ensues when you are living out of your suitcase and transporting yourself from place to place. It doesn’t seem like it would be much, to live out of a suitcase for two weeks, at a different house every<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC0XCCkcSxlQfJziC7qsrAXVhhl_FAK5fl2LiXxKEAqPfteaIwO-EOqq_LJM7vl57pRqW3GCW4Ck2XeTEETkRwIzIPH82mxoIt9Quy5HKf2bufDsN7KG83bl4T5MGekFDtSz7CIt3mvTem/s1600-h/000_0002.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC0XCCkcSxlQfJziC7qsrAXVhhl_FAK5fl2LiXxKEAqPfteaIwO-EOqq_LJM7vl57pRqW3GCW4Ck2XeTEETkRwIzIPH82mxoIt9Quy5HKf2bufDsN7KG83bl4T5MGekFDtSz7CIt3mvTem/s320/000_0002.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438676911628045426" border="0" /></a> night, but it can wear on you.<br />And yet, couch surfing allows me to reflect on all the wonderful people in my life who have offered a place for me to rest my head. All of my friends were more than happy to have me as a house guest. Feeling loved certainly eases the discomfort of not sleeping in my own bed.<br />Why all this couch surfing? I’m on my way to Costa Rica and I had to sublet my apartment on the first of the month in order to find decent renters. In fact, the renters are even watching my dog while I’m away, so the early sublet was a good decision.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCvod9nJ-VVO5be8EXP0lHwQh8JvA1ghvDOz0F3WU9nIwHLE4PKWZ1R2GuZiqPdDFmmfJ96T4pHRAhkOGpwXjuWiILt4Iv7T7xhypZbOlT6LQHLAkrTOhKMfQ0FThHjG9YzgetrVQrwENP/s1600-h/punkrockcabaret8.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCvod9nJ-VVO5be8EXP0lHwQh8JvA1ghvDOz0F3WU9nIwHLE4PKWZ1R2GuZiqPdDFmmfJ96T4pHRAhkOGpwXjuWiILt4Iv7T7xhypZbOlT6LQHLAkrTOhKMfQ0FThHjG9YzgetrVQrwENP/s320/punkrockcabaret8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438677318775526866" border="0" /></a><br />Last night I stayed with my friend, Julz, who lives at a dance/music studio. There was something truly enjoyable about waking up in the morning, opening the bedroom door, and walking out into a room with giant mirrors, harem décor, and luscious Persian carpets. Submersion into the dance lifestyle is exactly why Julz lives at this space, and just one night there had me understanding the appeal.<br />And that’s the other thing that couch surfing does for me; it gives me a glimpse into homes creat<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPM3ddo7uy1r9e4TqmU1UJcZKmmmP669l2UDgEOqDPTH19eqLFkQTps3pfqU-g2QbqPE7MIo-NgXUYyKwm1V3ktJeW7pD63Noc5sB8bs-TBur6iLDbcfa1Dvsi93SrqrGUBC1v9KCujR5M/s1600-h/875898303705_0_ALB.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPM3ddo7uy1r9e4TqmU1UJcZKmmmP669l2UDgEOqDPTH19eqLFkQTps3pfqU-g2QbqPE7MIo-NgXUYyKwm1V3ktJeW7pD63Noc5sB8bs-TBur6iLDbcfa1Dvsi93SrqrGUBC1v9KCujR5M/s320/875898303705_0_ALB.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438677558218752514" border="0" /></a>ed by people I care about. Of course, I have stayed over at friends’ houses before, but when you’re couch surfing, their home becomes your home, even if just for a second.<br />*All the pictures are of people who were gracious enough to offer me their couchAvaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3489003281785911990.post-25804661816472808742010-01-29T20:32:00.000-08:002010-01-29T20:43:19.465-08:00The Nature of Drum Solos<div>In a belly dance set, the dancer usually begins with a slow piece of music, and then she might speed things up, incorporate props such as a veil or sword, and almost always, she performs a drum solo. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhct663oXsr36qlNuRNfYuOCeWJTdliFocpSTL6nGnhBwo4h59Ds0Bu54yVilji5eJ9dMc6N1N2N_PjYXnGjNWHMzlWnKE24WgaY6y9HPtKRLWmVDaRSzCNGDbHfkA3HcIphHV0BqukJS6c/s1600-h/000_0027.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhct663oXsr36qlNuRNfYuOCeWJTdliFocpSTL6nGnhBwo4h59Ds0Bu54yVilji5eJ9dMc6N1N2N_PjYXnGjNWHMzlWnKE24WgaY6y9HPtKRLWmVDaRSzCNGDbHfkA3HcIphHV0BqukJS6c/s320/000_0027.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432387398096818162" border="0" /></a></div><div>A drum solo? What exactly does that mean? The name sums it up; it's a dance performed solo to percussion instruments. This can mean a couple of different things, though. If the music is recorded, the dancer can choreograph her moves. If the dancer is familiar with the song, then she can quickly choreograph the song while she is dancing, even if the song is being played live. So, kind of half choreography and half improvisation. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7bDFddzKxuV1-JlbSD8Fb7FWgOByKWv69uqGqPBu7dkQ2gr67FZKKqKmfI9nWspwLpwjHmlUXRBCulJMYaAN6PRS3eNVBv0UmrObCqr4vHHou0jXnSf1TqahvbNDG9kVkyjcaHyjGWRpR/s1600-h/jill.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 227px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7bDFddzKxuV1-JlbSD8Fb7FWgOByKWv69uqGqPBu7dkQ2gr67FZKKqKmfI9nWspwLpwjHmlUXRBCulJMYaAN6PRS3eNVBv0UmrObCqr4vHHou0jXnSf1TqahvbNDG9kVkyjcaHyjGWRpR/s320/jill.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432388059404577250" border="0" /></a></div><div>And then there is the improvised drum solo- a dance made up on the spot to music the dancer has never heard. To an untrained dancer, the task would be impossible. And yet, once you understand how the rhythms work, you can improvise almost flawlessly; the audience wouldn't be able to guess that it wasn't choreographed.</div><div>Some drum solos are basic; you just have to look for the down beat, which usually comes on every second or fourth count. In the first class of Jill Parker's "Demystifying the Drum Solo" workshop, she had us walking a<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGaCq2cJJLPYtLY15FRIHYU3Ggi-YF4pCzq2ioERi5Tir9DV4AvEjuTyn5N0imccsNtnJqpYKqHwmfmUVNzGnp7DKPOYuR8__bZ1jSJtVo5Pfb53FQXgjwk1EC5HRABmVWQbWjIiTWh2xa/s1600-h/rachelbrice.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 260px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGaCq2cJJLPYtLY15FRIHYU3Ggi-YF4pCzq2ioERi5Tir9DV4AvEjuTyn5N0imccsNtnJqpYKqHwmfmUVNzGnp7DKPOYuR8__bZ1jSJtVo5Pfb53FQXgjwk1EC5HRABmVWQbWjIiTWh2xa/s320/rachelbrice.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432388256022452210" border="0" /></a>round and hitting every single down beat. The result was a little sporadic, and at times I felt like I was doing the funky chicken, but the lesson was helpful in training my ear to hear the down beats.</div><div>Other drum solos aren't so easy. Sometimes the musicians are nice and they will repeat patterns of four, so that by the second or third time you hear the rhythm, you've got it down. Other musicians aren't so nice; they like to show off, to one-up the dancer, and<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8luo2AjR5sruvFyTAX_JWz3fg1xA4nTz5m9oT2UDQaSoTW2OOvdSwHQVOItL43znAa3lpdYR2ThNtb7C_UJJs4XLVH0IDroyhR01deS14SRRRoewCsktEDE6pv7KRMJjzLOG7CDJ6UjlH/s1600-h/Zadiraks_Zadiel.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 226px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8luo2AjR5sruvFyTAX_JWz3fg1xA4nTz5m9oT2UDQaSoTW2OOvdSwHQVOItL43znAa3lpdYR2ThNtb7C_UJJs4XLVH0IDroyhR01deS14SRRRoewCsktEDE6pv7KRMJjzLOG7CDJ6UjlH/s320/Zadiraks_Zadiel.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432388590040515842" border="0" /></a> the rhythms will be all over the place with no repeating patterns. Then you really would look like you were doing the funky chicken.</div><div>The best drum solos are when the musician and the dancer work as a team. The musician will play according to the dancer's tempo and vice-versa. Lots of eye contact is required! Think of it like partner dancing. But in this case, you don't need to worry about stepping on anyone's toes, except maybe your own.</div><div><br /></div>Avaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3489003281785911990.post-76220303121004666472010-01-23T12:22:00.000-08:002010-01-23T12:39:51.458-08:00Rachel Brice and Tutankhamun<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6uQX_RLWpwlR2AlYh9GksxTd0F5hZYVYP84kZYoSUJtWacDS1uNgbetR2YrXLhyxgz8ul6Tsn6UEoBFhgaVu1kSqJQHOoe0IeIzW179K2Oq1sh8T7NAY1wlJ3dD2uXvu9Lvon5Pwv8MAm/s1600-h/tutankhamun.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 276px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6uQX_RLWpwlR2AlYh9GksxTd0F5hZYVYP84kZYoSUJtWacDS1uNgbetR2YrXLhyxgz8ul6Tsn6UEoBFhgaVu1kSqJQHOoe0IeIzW179K2Oq1sh8T7NAY1wlJ3dD2uXvu9Lvon5Pwv8MAm/s320/tutankhamun.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430036778727174898" border="0" /></a><br />Every Friday night, the <a href="http://www.deyoungmuseum.org/">De Young Museum</a> in San Francisco hosts a free party, complete with music, performances, and activities. In celebration of the current <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tutankhamun">Tutankhamun</a> exhibit, the festivities have in<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipxuEXax4asvkGwg7xqxqZXu9I8k0dUxoFXsUqwwQRXULhSw57I9sTasPCrT_Vi6Jd0PylDwQd28y60MPxy0Ps1SyApg59QC1t5CvtQEhTPawM6EeFOTtLRzZI9dK1x50oH1fFihW2S-FL/s1600-h/rachel2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 204px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipxuEXax4asvkGwg7xqxqZXu9I8k0dUxoFXsUqwwQRXULhSw57I9sTasPCrT_Vi6Jd0PylDwQd28y60MPxy0Ps1SyApg59QC1t5CvtQEhTPawM6EeFOTtLRzZI9dK1x50oH1fFihW2S-FL/s320/rachel2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430037070742923842" border="0" /></a>cluded whirling dervish, belly dancing by<a href="http://www.myspace.com/rasavitalia"> Rasa Vitalia</a>, and an assortment of bands. Last night was the kicker, though, with <a href="http://www.theindigo.net/">Rachel Brice</a> performing to live music by <a href="http://www.famsf.org/deyoung/calendar/day.asp?calendarid=5133">Ajyal</a> (a local Bay Area band).<br />Rachel Brice is one of my belly dance heroes. She’s been studying, teaching, and performing for well over a decade, combining sensual yoga postures with slinky belly dance moves. Her body is as lithe as a snake’s, and her movements posses a fluidity that’s like watching a river; every pop, lock, rotation, and undulation is entwined together in continuous movement.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4I-VbkRes5Mq5w9gVXJ5EUaOw9eIjKWfuaXXLGDh-4GpLyC2qEYbWaiboBQhvng1LoPci1hc4NWFUOw2_CZBH8bf4mWcwvXiiY9dCNthFx25E-a8yzRvcbNT1vxjZjOYAf8pymEbkCPSO/s1600-h/rachel.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 288px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4I-VbkRes5Mq5w9gVXJ5EUaOw9eIjKWfuaXXLGDh-4GpLyC2qEYbWaiboBQhvng1LoPci1hc4NWFUOw2_CZBH8bf4mWcwvXiiY9dCNthFx25E-a8yzRvcbNT1vxjZjOYAf8pymEbkCPSO/s320/rachel.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430037156387739554" border="0" /></a><br />The crowd went wild for her last night. Her improvised drum solo had me in total admiration. The drummers were definitely not being easy on her- the rhythms changed after every fourth set, with no repetitions.<br />I had an interesting wake-up call right before Rachel went on. Pretty much everyone in the belly dance scene has heard of Rachel Brice; she’s world renowned- a house hold name in the dance studio. So, I actually felt surprised when a women went up to her and asked, “What’s your name, dear?” It seemed like the most absurd question in the world to me. But of course, lots of non-belly dancers don’t know who she is. I guess someti<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj69SHSq1EODw1NsOCWEkqZYvpxCBzSqtBoDN7CP1qdlLBKBrNyrW24KoyUaFUijyh-SRA37yGaUTBGH7m77MeE_ggFXGbkV_r1EH3b4JaK_tZaWsj7q2AG5a4b4lWUg_tLz4NZPShnRLeB/s1600-h/rachel3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 180px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj69SHSq1EODw1NsOCWEkqZYvpxCBzSqtBoDN7CP1qdlLBKBrNyrW24KoyUaFUijyh-SRA37yGaUTBGH7m77MeE_ggFXGbkV_r1EH3b4JaK_tZaWsj7q2AG5a4b4lWUg_tLz4NZPShnRLeB/s320/rachel3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430037519027201394" border="0" /></a>mes I forget that not everyone belly dances!<br />After being dazzled by both Rachel Brice and Ajyal, I submersed myself in the world of Tutankhamun. Also known as King Tut, Tutankhamun became ruler of Egypt at the ripe old age of nine. He was considered a deity by many, and died mysetriously at the age of nineteen.<br />His tomb was found in 1922 and was a hidden trove of treasur<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxi6S-EzuJdv3-Ve_sxq3_wIJ7J5V5a_LwYfFs-Q1r9b0hDoXvNJg95WE36py3g0dBtznHSFYHkFoxBahVmft11rwoHdRczLncYm-RmO6b5yDK3abBSF6bjf7Fyond7dyToHHeLM34ouF2/s1600-h/rachel1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 194px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxi6S-EzuJdv3-Ve_sxq3_wIJ7J5V5a_LwYfFs-Q1r9b0hDoXvNJg95WE36py3g0dBtznHSFYHkFoxBahVmft11rwoHdRczLncYm-RmO6b5yDK3abBSF6bjf7Fyond7dyToHHeLM34ouF2/s320/rachel1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430037676865882530" border="0" /></a>es. I can't even imagine how the discoverers must have felt. All that gold! Gilded coffins, statues, sparkling jewelery, and intricate details on every piece. It was almost mind-blowing to look at the artifacts knowing that they were over 3,000 years old.<br />Also a little mind-blowing was that so much of the jewelery resembled the jewelery that belly dancers wear today. Fascinating that a 3,000 year old necklace could look so familiar. I even have a necklace with similar beading to a chest piece that Tutankhamun used to wear. But I bet there’s quite a difference in the price! I wonder if anyone would notice if I swapped my piece for King Tut's...Avaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3489003281785911990.post-37758897930727910342010-01-16T10:48:00.000-08:002010-01-16T12:13:32.500-08:00C'est Mécanique!In a tucked away spot on Pier 45 of San Francisco’s Fisherman’s Wharf, there is a delightful museum of vintage music boxes, antique arcade machines, dioramas of circuses and carnivals, and a gypsy who will tell your fortune for fifty cents. Old-fashioned organ grinder mus<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixPIZgVpsb1eWy30fUmHloGZmMa4ukdKPefb81t9UJUwQCk-23lUGk3Tfh85I1FEuXkJwxLqwvy4fksrO9yUPDfiFxST8m1Fix-cLyJjmdzdWZowaWMh6RZ_sFhy4iXad4GXtAfvGlQW6v/s1600-h/san-francisco-quirky-musee-mecanique-cantina-header.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 128px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixPIZgVpsb1eWy30fUmHloGZmMa4ukdKPefb81t9UJUwQCk-23lUGk3Tfh85I1FEuXkJwxLqwvy4fksrO9yUPDfiFxST8m1Fix-cLyJjmdzdWZowaWMh6RZ_sFhy4iXad4GXtAfvGlQW6v/s320/san-francisco-quirky-musee-mecanique-cantina-header.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427417987581077042" border="0" /></a>ic fills the space with haunting melodies. Combined with the salty smell of the bay, the wonders at <a href="http://www.museemechanique.org/">Musée Mécanique</a> transport you to a carnival of a different era- the only thing missing is the prizes and the cotton candy. They even have a miniature Ferris wheel.<br />Entry is free, but bring a pocket full of dimes and quarters if you want to operate the machines. There are little “t<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXCOXoaJ2q2X0Kkldec0crLAnSGBr_95iEeBKvQIr5As0rWbgE4DcDdcvTZ-geZi9SEQdV0dkuYdUHxezNulnBzGjeBuxeA1PAaIKFIMOzgGIkWv1chLz8_9rVqEba1EfQmyH6JXWqIfdA/s1600-h/sally.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 129px; height: 97px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXCOXoaJ2q2X0Kkldec0crLAnSGBr_95iEeBKvQIr5As0rWbgE4DcDdcvTZ-geZi9SEQdV0dkuYdUHxezNulnBzGjeBuxeA1PAaIKFIMOzgGIkWv1chLz8_9rVqEba1EfQmyH6JXWqIfdA/s320/sally.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427417818560005314" border="0" /></a>heatres” that will show you an old-time execution for twenty-five cents. Kind of gruesome, but they’re only puppets. The dioramas are large and fantastic with twinkling lights, music, and moving parts; the whole scene will come to life. The overall effect is a little spooky, with the frightening laughs from “Laffing Sal” and all the mechanical noises in the air, but it just adds another element to the spectacle.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-LJUYXykVCYDE3458YYuE8Ft3IBh8yIlZI_7Z3_chxSTJnF8srTuySvMXfbKiMSz_u1SQWW_Vgl1s4_eI99q5eoEBZ9NTjI6P6nlRbRyuMtKgYdFKvmlpNmMZ-wZ5UasCs3sggThjDWCp/s1600-h/images.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 100px; height: 135px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-LJUYXykVCYDE3458YYuE8Ft3IBh8yIlZI_7Z3_chxSTJnF8srTuySvMXfbKiMSz_u1SQWW_Vgl1s4_eI99q5eoEBZ9NTjI6P6nlRbRyuMtKgYdFKvmlpNmMZ-wZ5UasCs3sggThjDWCp/s320/images.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427417676114905490" border="0" /></a><br />Of course, you don’t want to miss the belly dance peepshow. And for less than a quarter! Although, you should be aware that it’s a mini, puppet belly dancer that will be dancing in the box; if you want to see real thing, you’re going to have to work a lot harder than just depositing a few dimes into a coin slot.<br />By far, my favorite thing about Musée Mécanique is the music. As a tribal fusion belly dancer, I have a lot of <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGFi9ZJUAJqHadOPdSWGzdgF8oW8MxuZs28ZyGclJ8JVRLFXTFZKK9W_uwCJK3ZaYPltcQzsZLEtBhewDhNYea8jEYslxwXC-JjdKM-VGWKLn-X6dTQDokoR2-hSQdRu1sTuJtOxkBOFHe/s1600-h/6697938-lg.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 228px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGFi9ZJUAJqHadOPdSWGzdgF8oW8MxuZs28ZyGclJ8JVRLFXTFZKK9W_uwCJK3ZaYPltcQzsZLEtBhewDhNYea8jEYslxwXC-JjdKM-VGWKLn-X6dTQDokoR2-hSQdRu1sTuJtOxkBOFHe/s320/6697938-lg.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5427418274484042722" border="0" /></a>freedom to step out of the bonds of traditional middle eastern music when I choreograph dance pieces. The result has been choreography done to rock, Balkan music, and 1930s jazz, to name a few. There are CDs for sale at Musée Mécanique that feature organ grinders, accordions, and other circus-like instruments. It makes me want to run away and join a circus, become a belly dance sideshow performer.<br />However, there isn’t much of a chance of that actually happening, and instead I’ll opt for surrounding myself with the mystique of Musée Mécanique. At least, for now.<br /><br />*The story of how the museum began is a worthwhile read on its website: <a href="http://www.museemechanique.org/">www.museemechanique.org</a>Avaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3489003281785911990.post-74263375892585409082010-01-14T19:26:00.000-08:002010-01-14T19:38:26.211-08:00Warming up on the Spot!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBpm3Dx1sZWVP6GjM5Ylrrd3aQGVsralUv6Ela7rHYyyUxbHZrXb1oRS0ieERowYGIBnbc6aAPIhIEpeJaU0HXbt3iYroCKwRbKigJKW2pmfbBhTw8QeL3MV4jQRBFn_GyVdWQgBDVBhWt/s1600-h/ODC_Show_group1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBpm3Dx1sZWVP6GjM5Ylrrd3aQGVsralUv6Ela7rHYyyUxbHZrXb1oRS0ieERowYGIBnbc6aAPIhIEpeJaU0HXbt3iYroCKwRbKigJKW2pmfbBhTw8QeL3MV4jQRBFn_GyVdWQgBDVBhWt/s320/ODC_Show_group1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426803180040085298" border="0" /></a><br />Sometimes, the unexpected can happen when you go to a belly dance class. Like being in a rush and finding out when you arrive that you need to lead the warm-up. I've taught war<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiE3GRGAhESmadDXAQIhJLfKJZIY6VPa7uCQvPTP6ua4WyQ7wnXorHAv68XVKAVndg-x3V9HJLkUUS4TMythLlzCGI5tBVluamDdS86HLOSQRK4GlGzDalSYzzAqsFWw5PD2S7Uedhph_-/s1600-h/ODC_Show_Me.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiE3GRGAhESmadDXAQIhJLfKJZIY6VPa7uCQvPTP6ua4WyQ7wnXorHAv68XVKAVndg-x3V9HJLkUUS4TMythLlzCGI5tBVluamDdS86HLOSQRK4GlGzDalSYzzAqsFWw5PD2S7Uedhph_-/s320/ODC_Show_Me.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426803661585396930" border="0" /></a>m-ups before, in my own classes, but this was Jill Parker's class- meaning it was packed with over thirty women. And, of course, I had nothing prepared. Nerves almost got the better of me, but twenty-five minutes of stretches and abdominal conditioning went by faster than I thought it would. Also, I kind of got my wish....<div>I met with Jill Parker for lunch last week. After being away for four months, I was feeling disconnected from the dance scene and wanted some advice from one of my mentors. Well, subbing for her warm-up on Satur<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaBzGNYs4YKF0ndDeJ3J0JsYaSFN2IbwHF3SsU4xEB_ALLTHgv3hhaFCGUorHBdN-ri0bPDQyIy9Zbrl1LisViA6bIeAAI2S8tRQW7PhoHaRdhzc24o0SrHdgxQSsd-teixWO9hO4kuXlI/s1600-h/Palestinian+Festival1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 281px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaBzGNYs4YKF0ndDeJ3J0JsYaSFN2IbwHF3SsU4xEB_ALLTHgv3hhaFCGUorHBdN-ri0bPDQyIy9Zbrl1LisViA6bIeAAI2S8tRQW7PhoHaRdhzc24o0SrHdgxQSsd-teixWO9hO4kuXlI/s320/Palestinian+Festival1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426804048909785602" border="0" /></a>day was a great way to reconnect with everyone. People came up to me after class and thanked me for doing a good job. People introduced themselves and asked me my name. And Jill was grateful that someone had been available to fill in for her last minute. Having your car break down while you're on your way to teach a class has got to be stressful!</div><div>It was my first time leading such a large class, and I was thankful for the experience. And i<div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdIdlQa0QxRKlqPPeI4guokFpRbJ3hDlcsXQ7U2dAPKV_3ZER5cwpNJpheO_gZ664G3YFoQ19WlJl7p95CGHulxHjlkMQwcZF4Aj6BDqS-IGYosAk8jLqmvAEis0zOzknjEvAW9xbB5moD/s1600-h/000_0012.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdIdlQa0QxRKlqPPeI4guokFpRbJ3hDlcsXQ7U2dAPKV_3ZER5cwpNJpheO_gZ664G3YFoQ19WlJl7p95CGHulxHjlkMQwcZF4Aj6BDqS-IGYosAk8jLqmvAEis0zOzknjEvAW9xbB5moD/s320/000_0012.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426805678548886770" border="0" /></a></div> t made me miss teaching my own classes. Performing and teaching are entirely different from each other. You don't need to be in character when you teach. You can pause, take breaks, and not worry about remembering the choreography. And you get to talk. I am such a talker, and half the fun of teaching a class is explaining things. There is so much history behind the movements in belly dance. There are so many ways in which the movements can affect your body. </div>Avaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3489003281785911990.post-79179660381866632442010-01-09T18:30:00.000-08:002010-01-09T19:02:29.828-08:0030 Years of Rhythm and Motion!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQN2zt0d0b7RFbbmA0lao_VxQPf0G6fTwIRCDrHOjKYhpggjmExKgcns0PQ9L0952vbYk8y3yaCTXDZKyB8c4OszRZRrq80akhUOQ0KqAZnH6tzyZH0mwI18Aumg17JjbJ3bYORUAp6LUt/s1600-h/000_0008.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQN2zt0d0b7RFbbmA0lao_VxQPf0G6fTwIRCDrHOjKYhpggjmExKgcns0PQ9L0952vbYk8y3yaCTXDZKyB8c4OszRZRrq80akhUOQ0KqAZnH6tzyZH0mwI18Aumg17JjbJ3bYORUAp6LUt/s320/000_0008.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424939820363708546" border="0" /></a><br /><br />When I arrived in San Francisco six years ago, the first dance studio I went to was <a href="http://www.odcdance.org/school.php">Rhythm and Motion</a>. Back then, the stud<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrOb5gJKiGPdcYNtdh6u0-mHZvv6NapReGQEiXIsgIJucIfseREDH4sYbiC_9SSvtSumutpQjwQL9arG-Ai431x1LCdAVZF_rQ2jflX6XIiMBMuBvyh31eKbktZWXW5vyFv7_2XVe6n5zx/s1600-h/000_0015.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrOb5gJKiGPdcYNtdh6u0-mHZvv6NapReGQEiXIsgIJucIfseREDH4sYbiC_9SSvtSumutpQjwQL9arG-Ai431x1LCdAVZF_rQ2jflX6XIiMBMuBvyh31eKbktZWXW5vyFv7_2XVe6n5zx/s320/000_0015.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424940010705628946" border="0" /></a>io was located downtown, just south of Market St., in a slightly rundown building. There were just three studios- small, medium, and large- and the flooring was in need of repair. And yet the casual vibe made Rhythm and Motion so inviting; it felt old school, unpretentious, and accepting.<br />Everyone was sad when the studio closed a few years ago, but were optimistic about Rhythm and Motion’s relocation to <a href="http://www.odcdance.org/">ODC Dance Studios</a> in the Mission District. And while I have fond memories of the old Rhythm and Motion, I have to say that the new flooring, large studios, change rooms, and common space at ODC is much more conducive for a dance environment.<br />Plus, Rhythm and Motion is still going strong as a company. On December 30th, the company celebrated it’s 30th anniversary. There were free classes all day long, wine and an assortment of delicious food served at 5:30pm on<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDnrLyFS9oRu-r0hrlyJKzjl3R_VeUrgSTtGu_L-QonwwhzX5Dtgq0FRf5QJYwPjYmJ_KGOogkH7JeqeIZzeZWAuPtPJZchRD6RqQjzW7B_iDyzxgsQOcwtdL3hnvFWjLzQ-c0eTnKNDNb/s1600-h/000_0016.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDnrLyFS9oRu-r0hrlyJKzjl3R_VeUrgSTtGu_L-QonwwhzX5Dtgq0FRf5QJYwPjYmJ_KGOogkH7JeqeIZzeZWAuPtPJZchRD6RqQjzW7B_iDyzxgsQOcwtdL3hnvFWjLzQ-c0eTnKNDNb/s320/000_0016.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424940155854734642" border="0" /></a>wards, and performances from 7pm-9pm. After the show, a DJ spun an eclectic mix of songs and the studio was turned into a dance party.<br />I kicked off the festivities with a belly dance class by my mentor, <a href="http://www.myspace.com/foxglovesweethearts">Jill Parker</a>. I have never seen the studio that full. There must have been at least fifty women getting their shimmy on. My friend, Mei, was in attendance. It was one of her first belly dance classes, and there seemed to be a lot of other newcomers there, too. Thankfully, Jill Parker had the talent and expertise to pull of a multi-level class, and it was cool to see people progress throughout the lesson. It’s like riding a bike: once you get the hang of it, you never forget. But you might have to suffer a <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVGzDr9M1Klye68ZvKE3r7EOusvYW_FQspHwlYTqp0s33Teae_Szr7Mhyphenhyphenz7giBvg4bl2tca_S3vuXNVCo4HWa4JSmKok6bT7cCNi2S_lhQahgacI78G_8ucOB8x42hRpmh73dWX6UOFtrr/s1600-h/000_0030.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVGzDr9M1Klye68ZvKE3r7EOusvYW_FQspHwlYTqp0s33Teae_Szr7Mhyphenhyphenz7giBvg4bl2tca_S3vuXNVCo4HWa4JSmKok6bT7cCNi2S_lhQahgacI78G_8ucOB8x42hRpmh73dWX6UOFtrr/s320/000_0030.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424940306063058770" border="0" /></a>few bumps and bruises before you get it right.<br />Jill Parker was also one of the performers that night. If you haven’t yet seen her sultry, seductive dance choreography, then you’re missing out! She has the kind of snakelike movement that all beginning (and even advanced!) belly dancers covet. It’s one of the reasons why she’s known worldwide in the belly dance community. Plus, she picks great music for her choreography. That always helps.<br />There were several other performers, as well. One male and female duo in particular stood out. Two members of the<a href="http://www.rawdance.org/"> RAWdance</a> company performed a piece entitled “The Beauty Project”, which consisted of strong poses, balance, stren<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHBU5Bsz3Sg1SLKLbSIkdZQfKR_VsqhF4gwkDOr05qlYQaugooCw4Q2ynKJLlrHx_EX0ij8SAqXXJpP1H7SCSjPvzo-cr_EbooMyIzJD8pwtjDhx502guODK1U8OKkonJIWSLb-5Vqsi_L/s1600-h/000_0017.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHBU5Bsz3Sg1SLKLbSIkdZQfKR_VsqhF4gwkDOr05qlYQaugooCw4Q2ynKJLlrHx_EX0ij8SAqXXJpP1H7SCSjPvzo-cr_EbooMyIzJD8pwtjDhx502guODK1U8OKkonJIWSLb-5Vqsi_L/s320/000_0017.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424940725741613202" border="0" /></a>gth, and almost constant contact between the dancers. The piece lived up to the company’s name. It was raw, powerful, and beautiful. The strength of the dancers was impressive; you could see the tension in their muscles throughout the movements. The physical intimacy and exposed skin (just underwear and sports bra) was arousing; like watching two people have sex.<br />Watching other dancers perform always leaves me itching to dance. Needless to say, I joined the DJ dance party and got a little crazy with my friends. I mean, belly dancing to AC/DC? Turns out, it totally works. Especially when you throw in multiple hair tosses.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1NZdna40i2TpXWyXT6ioCMh_ATVj83PMmkkoMW5y2dfzACbud4OggZDMUzTc5QoK5k4dyU97yau6-aTdLoSqErFPQG2AOSuTISuCJe1iPL3BuHDuHOBM-XwjgOJXdMe-ETmHHKwr2mjDm/s1600-h/000_0032.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1NZdna40i2TpXWyXT6ioCMh_ATVj83PMmkkoMW5y2dfzACbud4OggZDMUzTc5QoK5k4dyU97yau6-aTdLoSqErFPQG2AOSuTISuCJe1iPL3BuHDuHOBM-XwjgOJXdMe-ETmHHKwr2mjDm/s320/000_0032.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424940954841787010" border="0" /></a>Avaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3489003281785911990.post-41146134888990578492010-01-02T15:50:00.000-08:002010-01-02T16:00:03.432-08:00Belly Dance Pin-Up<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhES9l6Hi9f8KfUr_FWwDEdIj-YXiTHTi0zgHC_e0kjgnFPEIsNmD5zaundWwIqCZo4wwXsgLOEaNFWgyT-NOTNlHUYiYhbG9caWR5gDSi3fX5euFAcVzUqcH5WeV78ZxLgJeR5-ECGrG0L/s1600-h/sword2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhES9l6Hi9f8KfUr_FWwDEdIj-YXiTHTi0zgHC_e0kjgnFPEIsNmD5zaundWwIqCZo4wwXsgLOEaNFWgyT-NOTNlHUYiYhbG9caWR5gDSi3fX5euFAcVzUqcH5WeV78ZxLgJeR5-ECGrG0L/s320/sword2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422295573792456658" border="0" /></a><br />I love posing nu<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHMGsPmzNVGAbERcBOK3rbOzRZK2D_pXBX1vk3m83klzRxhEd838QpVgoR9O600M-KIQM97HWr9Q874RCQr47jJU_pCYRzUTj36nyoAInq7F1hfIFhyphenhyphenhxQ6eTlSEiCsny-a3mHSRNgDYUy/s1600-h/blue2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 199px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHMGsPmzNVGAbERcBOK3rbOzRZK2D_pXBX1vk3m83klzRxhEd838QpVgoR9O600M-KIQM97HWr9Q874RCQr47jJU_pCYRzUTj36nyoAInq7F1hfIFhyphenhyphenhxQ6eTlSEiCsny-a3mHSRNgDYUy/s320/blue2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422295345625689426" border="0" /></a>de for the same reason I love to dance: self-expression. Belly dancing and artistic nude modeling have more in common than you would think. Both require poise, endurance, and playing with facial expressions. And more importantly, both emulate the beauty of the female body in a non-derogatory way.<br />A few weeks ago, I did a photo shoot with West Side Photography. When being photographed in the nude, it is important to find a photographer with whom you feel comfortable. I’ve responded to plenty of ads that were requesting an “artistic nude model”, only to discover that the photographer really just wanted to shoot some porn. If that’s your cup of tea, then that’s great. It’s just not mine. And no matter how much sweet talking you do, you're not goin<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKG_7R2T4EitzQMEg4RQ3-vXUd7dhPkjK4_He5jhNK8qhZ11bqh4olJVtbz67eiVZd_iM6MWKPukKcUClZT50Ruj3YI826JpNjnV3m9HglLBdsn_2x2hlAgygT5LpE03wmBLTRNT8QNtpJ/s1600-h/foot.veil2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKG_7R2T4EitzQMEg4RQ3-vXUd7dhPkjK4_He5jhNK8qhZ11bqh4olJVtbz67eiVZd_iM6MWKPukKcUClZT50Ruj3YI826JpNjnV3m9HglLBdsn_2x2hlAgygT5LpE03wmBLTRNT8QNtpJ/s320/foot.veil2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422295798282709346" border="0" /></a>g to convince me that it is.<br />West Side Photography is a safe haven when it comes to feeling comfortable in front of the camera- no porn, no creepiness, no hidden agenda. Just beautiful shots of strong, empowered women. Now that’s my cup of tea.<br />When I talk to people about nude modeling, many exclaim that they do not have the confidence to take their clothes off for the camera. For me, it has been the opposite: posing nude has given me confidence. It is so <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGPyhCHVjEmsiq02ZAOA5DYxwvVhC0GZDpzIccPxXC2nbOERuwnTb-3P9o8U6faZForKb8iXRGmQOclcgWGxQJlAfjV8B2snw6vxFyAHE503QSxAVACXe20FOjyvRjTfyXSYsxVk3nBjlm/s1600-h/jas.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGPyhCHVjEmsiq02ZAOA5DYxwvVhC0GZDpzIccPxXC2nbOERuwnTb-3P9o8U6faZForKb8iXRGmQOclcgWGxQJlAfjV8B2snw6vxFyAHE503QSxAVACXe20FOjyvRjTfyXSYsxVk3nBjlm/s320/jas.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5422296427264266242" border="0" /></a>empowering to embrace your body and bare it all to the world in a way that highlights your strengths and not your flaws. Plus, there's always Photoshop.<br />There is also a surprising result that occurs from seeing yourself in nude photographs. Even while looking in the mirror, I am not able to truly see how my emotions are reflected in my body language or in the expressions on my face. But after looking at a series of 400 nude photos, I can’t help but notice how much my body reflects how I feel inside.<br />I did my first nude photo shoot while I was recovering from a traumatic event. Despite the confidence portrayed in the pictures, there was a faint trace of frailty in every shot. Juxtapose those pictures with the ones from my last shoot, and the contrast is striking. At this point in my life, I am stronger and more confident than I’ve ever been- and it translates in the photographs. Although, I’m sure holding a sword had something to do with me looking so fierce, too.Avaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3489003281785911990.post-21525629427198496892009-12-28T19:40:00.000-08:002009-12-28T19:55:37.747-08:00It's Polkapocalyptic!<object width="560" height="340"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/mjtsC0NKoAg&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/mjtsC0NKoAg&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"></embed></object><br /><br />One of the cool perks of being a traveling belly dancer is meeting and performing with musicians from all over the world. When I was<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcIthOeUqGCm1g7aR4aM4WKgcgTwVcE1RhxjWJCUWCqrmsAdFGz15WspHjFIzqH2wX37vW-MQyqUkJIMK06RxblA2jxb3pKDODNHoG_-TXsDwZCXLlShMWURfWzaWNpkUnOwLLCFsmw-0q/s1600-h/BBBBand1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcIthOeUqGCm1g7aR4aM4WKgcgTwVcE1RhxjWJCUWCqrmsAdFGz15WspHjFIzqH2wX37vW-MQyqUkJIMK06RxblA2jxb3pKDODNHoG_-TXsDwZCXLlShMWURfWzaWNpkUnOwLLCFsmw-0q/s320/BBBBand1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420500514887968770" border="0" /></a> in Berlin, I performed at the Phoney Island Cabaret with the Benka Boradovsky Bordello Band- a gypsy punk band from New Zealand. One thing led to another (as these things usually do), and I was asked to dance in their music video. <div>The name of the song? Polkapocalyptic. The theme for the video? Drunken gypsy party. With that combination, I thought mayhem would ensue. Would we actually get drunk for the video? Would there really be a polkapocalypse? And how gypsy were we talking? Because I'm pretty much your standard white girl. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzHJ2lvgtRqkOP-HGqPgvDxY_a_g6ZP8xav44V2CiN3xa_SXtmChW7C98hNp7ETp3KaYttdjBwHGZ89kPYyqE-uk9ybMQGYxAyAMHfzs8iKVHD2lDNQV5loUMmJQoXoU1DJOOK52WIhuE1/s1600-h/BBBBand.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzHJ2lvgtRqkOP-HGqPgvDxY_a_g6ZP8xav44V2CiN3xa_SXtmChW7C98hNp7ETp3KaYttdjBwHGZ89kPYyqE-uk9ybMQGYxAyAMHfzs8iKVHD2lDNQV5loUMmJQoXoU1DJOOK52WIhuE1/s320/BBBBand.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420500824642721234" border="0" /></a></div><div>However, my wild imagination was calmed upon entering the studio/house. We were shooting on a green screen, and would be shot one at a time. And there was no alcohol available (much to my dismay), so the drunkenness would only be pretend (as it turns out, I make a pretty good fake drunk).</div><div>Shooting on a green screen is a little bizarre. Green screens are BRIGHT green and kind of cushy. Meaning that my complexion looked horrible and my feet stuck to the floor. Not so flattering for a belly dancer. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvh12DOp9sRscZnbUIaQ0sevMOEoYao_NDv9N6_lsqh4Dc4UYSUE_4apuaiMyrVyd2Kz9DCITSS5dxihEf-tblSiqiFLwi_Ge6q8qEx0uGSb_DM8oDziO1OLzTxIyUJsWGNZgI8zZ2sSjF/s1600-h/BBBand2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvh12DOp9sRscZnbUIaQ0sevMOEoYao_NDv9N6_lsqh4Dc4UYSUE_4apuaiMyrVyd2Kz9DCITSS5dxihEf-tblSiqiFLwi_Ge6q8qEx0uGSb_DM8oDziO1OLzTxIyUJsWGNZgI8zZ2sSjF/s320/BBBand2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420500969357298290" border="0" /></a></div><div>Dancing to the music was a little awkward, too. First, I had to dance to the music at half tempo. And then at double tempo. And finally, at normal tempo. I liked double tempo the best. Nothing like getting your shimmy on!</div><div>Despite the awkwardness of the glaring lights, the green screen, and having to pretend I was surrounded by drunken gypsies, I pulled the whole thing off quite well. Everyone did. There were four other dancers who also performed: modern, contemporary, and free-style. As a b<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyZk4WK8Lmdh0uovBZJFbpMxqfG5Hm2hE-dSOH7eR8rumKF3BfzjqPRZdd6CsWEjAUSAaMWQR33UDwZHTKZI2MSej8X9MQt3W2LHuz5A_2U6TeQaB-2GQZmaGDHBd9DhKnlIwf50ujgGBp/s1600-h/BBBBand3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyZk4WK8Lmdh0uovBZJFbpMxqfG5Hm2hE-dSOH7eR8rumKF3BfzjqPRZdd6CsWEjAUSAaMWQR33UDwZHTKZI2MSej8X9MQt3W2LHuz5A_2U6TeQaB-2GQZmaGDHBd9DhKnlIwf50ujgGBp/s320/BBBBand3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420501136438513170" border="0" /></a>elly dancer, I ended up being the most gypsy of them all- go figure. </div><div>The video was shot and produced by Sumone Productions and they did a fantastic job. The drunken gypsy bit is just a small part of the finished product; who would have thought that thirty seconds took four hours to shoot? </div><div>Wanna see the video for yourself? Check it out: <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mjtsC">polkapocalyptic</a> but be prepared for an acid trip down the rabbit hole.</div>Avaishyahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08700758429053281428noreply@blogger.com0