A Taste of Cuba in San Francisco

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. That's a good combo, too.
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.
That was how my friend, Michael, and I stumbled upon Radio Habana Social Club. 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, Electric Sister, headlined. Nothing like getting to know people while you're undulating on stage with them.
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.
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. Even 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.
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.
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 grandmothers, but this lady was adorable in a way that you only see in fiction.
Perhaps that added to the surreal vibe of Radio Habana Social Club. 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.

Sunny Days in San Francisco

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.
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).
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).
The antics of street performers can be seen every few blocks. Musicians, jugglers, clowns, 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.
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 belly dancing for another time.
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!

Rockin' Bellies!

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.
Belly dance and rock music? Can the two really be combined without looking silly?
After “Rock-A-Belly”, the answer is a definite ‘yes’!
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 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.
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.
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 were 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.
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.
Don’t get me wrong. I love, love, love sleazy rock and roll. And Electric Sister are great at what they do. It’s just 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!
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 dance is classy all on its own, regardless of what kind of music you put it to.
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.

Zadiel 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 male 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!
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 men walking around?
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!
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 lady!
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.
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.

Balkan Brass

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?
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!)
Something about the festivity, the gypsy-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.
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 them 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.
Guys, pay attention. All those band geeks in high school had the right idea, because now they're surrounded by hot, swooning belly dancers!
This June, I am hosting Zadiel Sasmaz- my dance director from Berlin- on tour in California. Zadiel's specialties include 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!

Baxtalo Drom: The Lucky Road

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.
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.
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.
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?
I really had nothing to worry about, 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.
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 correctly after a whole night of hearing the name) got the audience moving and grooving with their gypsy-like tunes.
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.
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!

Clown Cabaret

A few posts ago I was saying how tempted I've been to run 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.
Unfortunately, I got sick 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!
Despite being ill, I still went to the event and volunteered at the drink/snack booth. The cabaret was a fundraiser for inMotion Theater, which is a non-profit that works with high school 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.
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...

Drinking with the Irish!

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.
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.
The Irish pub, Ireland's 32, was in the Richmond district and packed full of people when I arrived 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.
The night opened with a belly dance set. Joie Mazor (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. Alodiah Lunar, Alison Saylor, Joie, and Julz 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 shouldn’t have been dancing at all, but what’s that saying? The show must go on!
The band “Deeva”, 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.
The band, “Art in Heaven” headlined, and Joie and Alodiah busted out with some improv 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!
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!

Behind the Eyes of Eve

Before I left for Costa Rica, I found myself in the basement of D-Structure 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 amazing 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.
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.
And, of course, there was Dee Kennedy, the woman behind it all. The shoot was for her gemstone line, "Eyes of Eve"; 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 head- and she actually does something about it. She models, is the executive director of VAGABOOM! (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 Eyes of Eve 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.
Photo Credit: Sam O'Connor

Let's Duet

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!
I’ve had a belly dance partner from the beginning. A dancer 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 own.
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!
Last year in Costa Rica, I had the experience of being 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.
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.

Surfing the Couches!

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.
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 night, but it can wear on you.
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.
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.
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.
And that’s the other thing that couch surfing does for me; it gives me a glimpse into homes created 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.
*All the pictures are of people who were gracious enough to offer me their couch

C'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 music fills the space with haunting melodies. Combined with the salty smell of the bay, the wonders at Musée Mécanique 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.
Entry is free, but bring a pocket full of dimes and quarters if you want to operate the machines. There are little “theatres” 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.
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.
By far, my favorite thing about Musée Mécanique is the music. As a tribal fusion belly dancer, I have a lot of 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.
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.

*The story of how the museum began is a worthwhile read on its website: www.museemechanique.org

Santarchy

In San Francisco, Christmas is very much like Halloween; it’s an excuse to party and to indulge in varying levels of weirdness. Decorations are put up, parties are thrown, people hand out candy, and people dress up in costumes and run around the city in them. San Franciscans love pushing the envelope.
I was eating a vanilla éclair at Thorough Bread (if you haven’t yet been to this bakery, hurry up and go, before they take down the life-size Christmas tree that’s made entirely of bread) on Church St. the other day when I saw a group of Santas pass by the window. Ten minutes later and another group of Santas- this one all women and conveying more of a naughty Santa them- sauntered by. Later, I saw another Santa gang at Burger Meister (and keeping with the Christmas spirit, they let me pose with them for a picture), and throngs of Santas parading through the sidewalks, yelling “Merry Christmas!” and swaggering as if they were half in the bag (they probably were).
I finally asked a fishnet wearing Santa’s helper, “Why all the Santas?”
“Santarchy,” she replied. Of course. Makes perfect sense. This was San Francisco, after all.
“No force on Earth can stop one hundred Santas!” is the official slogan on the Santarchy (also known as “Santacon”) website. And it turns out that there are cities out there that are just as crazy as San Francisco when it comes to Christmas: over three dozen cities were listed as Santarchy hosts worldwide.
So, what is Santarchy exactly? It’s pretty simple- just a mob of Santas, creating some light Christmas mayhem, including mock Santa assassinations, snowball fights, bar hopping, and singing Christmas carols in a pitch no one wants to hear. The date for the event is listed on the website and anyone wanting to their city to be involved simply needs to plan on donning a Santa outfit and let the web coordinators know.
Santarchy seemed like a lot of fun. My only regret was no having heard about the event- or else I would have gladly paraded about in a Santa outfit myself.
www.santarchy.com for more info