It's Polkapocalyptic!

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 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.

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.

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).

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.

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!

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 belly dancer, I ended up being the most gypsy of them all- go figure.

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?

Wanna see the video for yourself? Check it out: polkapocalyptic but be prepared for an acid trip down the rabbit hole.

Iraq/Afghanistan- Some Inside Stories

One of the great things about dating a talented musician is that he occasionally gets noticed and gets commissioned to do some interesting gig. Wilson Gil’s most interesting gigs by far were the two week music tours he did with his band, the Willful Sinners, in Afghanistan and Iraq in 2007.
Now, I’ve heard my fill of crazy war stories from Wilson, but after a visit last weekend from a friend of his whom he met in Iraq, I’ve got some more bizarre things to add to the list. I’m going to refer to this friend as Miss X, just so that I don’t step on anyone’s toes.
First off, Miss X was so nice and down to earth. She looks more like a cute housewife than a woman who spends much of her time working in war zones (I think Demi Moore ruined it for all the normal girls working in the military. Seriously, women in the military related fields are just normal people). And Miss X is bad-ass. She’s a communications consultant and specializes in solving problems related to suicide bombings. How’s that for intense?
Miss X, Wilson, and I wondered through Alexander Platz and looked at the historical buildings- all lit up because of the Festival of Lights- and chatted about cheerful topics such as searching for body parts, army bases being rocketed, people blowing themselves up, and so forth. We really are happy people, I swear. It’s not all doom and gloom.
So, want the inside scoop on some things the media doesn’t really cover? Just a couple tidbits for you: Fingerprinting is new in Iraq, and a friend of Miss X has the job of updating files with fingerprints- which means that she is often sent the fingers of dead people. Yup, just the finger. Imagine getting that package in the mail. Everyday.
Did you know that Saddam Hussein had a thing for the Flintstones? He had the whole town of Bed Rock constructed for his enjoyment. He also bred these giant fish with scales that looked like diamonds. Wilson was trying to feed the fish pieces of bread and it wasn’t really working. Then a soldier threw the fish a chicken bone- that did the trick.
Apparently, the United States has claimed all of the sites of archeological importance for themselves- Wilson got taken on one field trip after another to see pyramids, the foundation of the house of the prophet Abraham, palaces, you name it. The oldest pyramid structure known to man is just languishing in the desert. It's too bad archeology isn't the first thing that comes to mind when one thinks about Iraq these days!
Wilson Gil, Miss X, and I also touched on how there are certain ways being in a war affects you, things you wouldn’t have thought of before you signed up for the job. Dealing with suicide bombing has given Miss X a large crowd complex. She said that one day her friend called her and asked what she was up to and Miss X replied that she was hiding in a supermarket aisle. She couldn’t quite recall why she was hiding, just that the crowds of shoppers had started to freak her out.
What I appreciated most about our visit with Miss X was how we could sip hot chocolate in a café in Berlin while discussing topics that are changing the world. It made me appreciate Berlin for what it is- an international city. Berlin feels safe, it feels comfortable, it feels peaceful, and yet Berlin itself carries the scars of war. Maybe one day it will be the same for Iraq and Afghanistan. Maybe one day Wilson and I will visit Miss X in Baghdad and we’ll sip some hot chocolate in a café and talk about lighter things. One can only hope.
For more pics, check out Wilson Gil on Facebook.

The Oldest Pub in Berlin

There are places in Berlin that lead you back to an era of cobblestone roads, red-bricked buildings, churches fitted with wrought iron and stained glass windows, and ancient oak trees lining the pathways. You can almost hear the clip-clop a horses’ hooves, can almost see a carriage coming around the corner carrying people in old-fashioned dress.
Zur letzten Instanz, the oldest pub in Berlin, is one of those places. The pub first opened its doors in 1621, but the first documented mention of the building is from 1561. Zur letzten Instanz sits at the end of Waisenstrasse, an alley that also features the oldest building in Berlin- the “Graues Kloster” (Grey Monastery). A historic courthouse and the skeleton of a bombed out church can be found just around the corner.
I’ve heard stories that prisoners from the courthouse used to be taken to Zur letzten Instanz for their last meal in the days of old. The pub also boasts a repertoire of famous guests, ranging from Napoleon to Mikhel Gorbachev.
I loved how the candles on the tables and the large chandeliers bathed the pub in a warm glow. Rows of antique beer steins lined wooden shelves, stained glass windows and brick walls aptly portrayed the century in which the pub was born, and a heavy, wrought iron staircase wound a spiral of dark green to the restaurant on the top floor. Everything looked antique and I couldn’t help but feel the history of the place, as if there were ghosts milling about, mingling their laughter and chatter with the sounds of the guests from present day.
The wait staff wore classy black and white uniforms, and offered the luxury of service reserved for fine dining. The prices, however, were only slightly higher than the average Berlin restaurant and the food was well worth the few extra euros. The menu featured several meat-based dishes, with the meat often served on the bone, and always dripping with tender juiciness. Sides included beets, dumplings, cabbage, and potatoes prepared like I’ve never tasted before- sweet and savoury and bursting with so much flavour that I’ll never think of cabbage as a boring side dish again.
My own meal was one of the few vegetarian options listed on the menu and it was literally one of the best meals I’ve ever eaten. Fennel, rosemary, and other savoury herbs complimented tomatoes that tasted like they’d been picked fresh from the vine. I can’t remember what the dish was called, but I’m tempted to go back to Zur letzten Instanz for a second round so I can find out.

Visit the restaurant's website for more information: www.zurletzteninstanz.de

Berlin Vampires

Berlin is a city that has carried its history like multiple scars throughout the centuries. Even in this present day of ramped up technology and flashy, modern architecture, one can still see the shadows of Berlin’s past lurking in the corners. Cobblestone streets, museums riddled with bullet holes, remnants of a great wall, and buildings still crumbling from bombs dropped sixty years ago live side by side with newly paved freeways, shopping mall complexes, and a radio tower that looks like something out of the Jetsons.
Berlin is like a vampire, forever trying to change with the times, but retaining its past with subtle nuances that appear when you least expect it. Which makes Berlin the perfect setting to shoot a music video about vampires. Wilson Gil and Orit Shimoni co-wrote a song called “The Choice“. Wilson sings the first half of the song with deep and haunting lyrics: “It’s too late to pray/For what I just took away/In the morning sunrise/I’ll be closing my eyes”. He narrates the tale of a vampire on the prowl. This vampire meets a girl and narrows in on her as his prey. Little does he know that the girl is also a vampire.
Orit enters on the second half of the song with a voice that sounds like a wounded angel. She is the girl that Wilson has targeted and becomes the ultimate predator as she fanes humanity and then takes her revenge by killing Wilson when his guard is down.
Guitar, violin, mandolin, and acoustic bass give the song an old-time feel. The music builds into crescendos of eerie notes that would send shivers up anyone’s spine.
The video is being shot in Mitte in Kloster Strasse, which is one of Berlin’s oldest U-Bahn stations. Large orbs of light hang from the ceiling like shimmering ghosts. Photos of historic trains adorn the walls, wrought iron accents give the station a graveyard-like vibe, and voices echo off the ceiling like ghouls moaning in a haunted house.
The film director, Karim Rateb, adds suspense and the element of surprise with sweeping views of the station, close ups of bloody mouths, and point of view shots.
As for my part in the video, I get to play Wilson the vampire’s first victim. I’ll be sitting on a bench in the station, innocently waiting for my train. The part should be easy to act, because the Kloster Strasse station already fills me with exciting chills whenever I’m there. Entering that station is like going back through time. I just hope I don’t meet any real vampires along the way.

www.wilsongil.com
www.myspace.com/weelittlebirdie

OMG! I Ate Some Meat!

Germans sure love their meat, to the point where even a vegetarian can start to get cravings for a piece of crisp juicy animal flesh. I’ve been a vegetarian for eleven years, and like most vegetarians, I’ve “cheated” from time to time. I should have known from the start that Berlin had it in for me, with its sausage stands and low prices and döner (kebab) vendors and supermarkets offering every kind of meat you could think of.
Alexander Platz was a particularly tempting place for a vegetarian like me. After hours of busking (performing by the street), a girl can work up quite an appetite. There are easily six bratwurst stands by the Alexander Platz U Bahn. Sausage, sausage everywhere and not a bite to eat! Until I totally caved. I couldn’t help it. One day I was so hungry and the sausages were sizzling on the grill and my friend was beside me, sinking his teeth into a perfectly crisp bratwurst. Man, that sausage was so good.
I told myself it wouldn’t happen again. It was just one sausage. A girl can cheat once in a while. It’ okay, right? Well, apparently not, because now I’m freaking addicted to bratwurst. It’s the best bang for my buck at a euro and twenty cents. And the bratwurst are all lined up, waiting to be munched. No lines to wait in. Fast, cheap, convenient, filling, and so damn delicious.
Bratwurst has been my only exception, though. Germans can get downright weird with their meat. I went to a dinner party and there were several jars on the table next to a plate of crackers. I thought that the jars contained maybe hummus or cheese or some kind of spread. Nope. It was meat in a jar! All kinds of strange, processed meats: blood sausage, liver, and god knows what else. It looked like cat food. And kind of smelled like it, too.
Now, some people don’t classify fish as meat, but most vegetarians do. If you add fish to your definition of meat, then the meat in Germany gets even stranger. Pickled herring on a bun? Germans love it. Fish burgers, fish filets, fish with the scales still on, you name it and you can find it, at least in Berlin. They even have fish bakeries.
There was a jar of herring in the fridge of the apartment we’re renting. My fiance, Wilson, had the brilliant idea of opening up the jar to sample its contents. He didn’t get that far, though, because after one whiff the lid was back on and the fridge was slammed shut.
Wilson didn’t warn me about the jar of herring, though. I only found out because he gave me a hug and I couldn’t believe how bad he smelled. He must have washed his hands a dozen times before the smell started to wear off. But our fridge still smells like fish whenever we open it up.
After the jar of herring experience, I feel like my bratwurst addiction is acceptable. Because hey, it could be a lot worse. I could be addicted to pickled herring instead.

Sunday Night in Friedrichshain

What to do on a Sunday night in Berlin? Friedrichshain is one of those up and coming neighborhoods, full of misfits, beat necks, artists and musicians. Wilson Gil and I knew we’d happen upon something cool if we ventured out there. Friedrichshain is gritty and in your face. Right when you get out of the subway, you’re hit with the beauty and awe of the city as you walk across the Warschauer bridge. The radio tower in Alexander Platz looms in the distance, the buildings cast their twinkling lights on the canal, and a mob of people rushes past as everyone exits from the subway trains.
The neighborhood is awash in restaurants. We had a craving for Thai food, so we took the advice of a friend and went to “Lemongrass”. The joint was slamming. The food was rocking. And the international vibe was intense. There must have been at least twenty nationalities represented in that one tiny restaurant. That’s the flavor of Berlin.
Wilson Gil’s favorite little music bar, Art Liners, is in Friedrichshain. Art Liners has an open jam every Sunday night and all sorts of musicians congregate there to have their go at the mike. Everything from banjo to accordion to the kazoo.
The bar brings attracts some interesting fans, as well. One in particular, whom everyone knows (because how could you not), is a punk rock chick named Vina. I’m not sure what exactly, but something happened to that girl along the way and now she’s, well, let’s just call her a free spirit. Wilson Gil played a show at Art Liners a few weeks back and Vina just loved him- so much that she decided to wrap her arms around his legs half way through his set, all the while screaming something incoherent in German. I think she was trying to say that she really liked his music.
On this particular Sunday night, however, Vina had it in for me. She came up to me, threw her arms around me, and proceeded to grab my ass and kiss my cheek. “You a nice woman!” she said as she looked me up and down. I managed to crawl out from her grasp and made sure to stay far away for the rest of the night.
The crazy characters really just add to the jacked up vibe of the bar, though. It’s so great to smoke a cigarette, down a glass of beer, and listen to various musicians do Rolling Stones and Johnny Cash covers, while people are dancing around between the tables. Lots of great original music, too. I hope one day to be able to hear one of the musicians on the radio and say, “Hey! I knew them when…”
The rain was pouring down by the time we left Art Liners, but we didn’t mind. The air was still, and it was kind of nice to walk through the streets in the rain, hand in hand with my love.

Berlin's Dichotomies

Berlin is at once a massive yet tiny city. It is a city of ghosts and of vibrant life. It is a place where the East meets the West, and everything in between.
I wasn’t sure what to expect when I came to Berlin. But the one thing I didn’t expect was to feel severely depressed for my first month of being there.
After weeks of pondering and agonizing over why I was feeling so down, I finally figured it out: I wasn’t able to ground myself. I was lost. And yet I wasn’t. That was it. Berlin has so many dichotomies, that I wasn’t sure how to feel half the time. There is a constant shift from “hot” to “cold” and my body wasn’t sure how to react.
Most Berliners speak some English, to the point where one can be deceived into thinking that they don’t need to learn Deutsch. Big mistake. While it’s a total blessing to communicate in English while in a foreign country, one has to be aware that all media, websites, signs, and vital information is not in English. Germany is not a bilingual country, even though it sometimes appears to be. Mein Deutsch ist schlect, but I thought I could get by without knowing the language. In reality, one can just get by in Berlin with only speaking English. But if you want any level of success, knowing Deutsch is crucial.
Berlin has so much to offer, but when you just arrive, it’s almost too much. Where do you start? As a dancer, there was a million studios, instructors, and venues to choose from, but it was hard to get an “in”. Even when you think you have an “in”, it’s really just the tip of the iceberg. For every club you’ve been to, there are a hundred that you don’t even know about.
There is also a contrast between East and West Berlin, and at the same time a unity amongst all Berliners. So, where to live? I still haven’t figured that one out, although I have found some neighborhoods that I love. Neukölln and Kreuzburg are my favorite, but I love Mitte and Charlottenburg and Prenzlauer berg, as well. And each neighborhood offers a totally different experience, so it’s a tough decision.
There are way too many dichotomies to list. What I do find comfort in is knowing that I’m not the only one who has felt depressed upon arriving in Berlin. I met a singer/song writer named Orit Shimoni. She wrote a wonderful song called "Sadder Music" that sums up exactly how I was feeling. It was a great moment to be sitting outside at a picnic table on a hot summer night, surrounded by people from all walks of life, listening to Orit spill her soul about Berlin. It’s always nice knowing there is someone to whom I can relate.
After being in Berlin for three months, the depression has passed. I love the city, and all of its quirks and charms. And I sympathize with Berlin. Despite being over 700 years old, Berlin is somewhat like a teenager with an identity crisis. Is the city Gothic, punk, historical, modern, hip, rundown, or just content with being all of the above? Whichever the case, Berlin has a little something for everyone. You just have to be content with whatever the city throws your way.

Sparrenburg Castle

When I asked my friends in Berlin if there was anything to see while I was in Bielefeld, each one of them said that Bielefeld didn’t have much going on. Imagine my surprise, then, when I got to Bielefeld and people asked if I was going to see the castle. A castle? If that’s not something to see, I don't know what is. Maybe castles are just commonplace to most Germans, and that’s why my friends hadn’t mentioned it. Either way, I was thrilled. I had never been in a real castle.
The Sparrenburg Castle sits high on a hill, overlooking Bielefeld and beyond. A massive stone wall wraps around the interior, with a turret in four corners. Inside, the main halls have been reconstructed and now serve as a restaurant. A large turret is in the middle of the grounds, towering over everything. The great thing about the Sparrenburg Castle is that you can really explore it. There are tours that take you around the outside, through the inside, underground, and all the way to the top. What a view!
Sparrenburg is a good bang for your buck, too. The restaurant and the little food stand both charged a fair price for tasty cuisine and the tours were inexpensive (less than 4 euro). Parking and entrance to the castle are free.
A bit of the history? The guide I was given says that Sparrenburg was built in the early 1200s by Count Ludwig of Ravensburg and that it was home to the Count and his “entourage”. Which makes the Count sound like he was a rock star. Because when I think “entourage” I think of hot girls and groupies. But maybe that’s just me.
Throughout the centuries, Sparrenburg saw many changes in ownership and additions to its architecture. Sadly, the castle was pummeled by an air raid during WW II, but extensive renovations have made the castle almost like it was before.
While we were at Sparrenburg, there was a photoshoot for a wedding taking place throughout the grounds, and a bag pipe player in a kilt was playing by the bridge on the way into the castle. There was definitely a lot to see.

www.bielefeld.de
www.sparrenburg.info

Throwing Flames

The bar scene in Berlin never ceases to surprise me. There is a strange juxtaposition going on: the streets are quiet, peaceful even, and then you enter a bar and stumble upon a whole other world. Take Café Zapata, for instance. From outside, it looks like a rundown building, a bit of an eyesore amongst the upscale restaurants that surround it. A few interesting metal sculptures entice you to go into the bar, and suddenly you find yourself in a cavernous room with a band playing full force onstage. Exiting through the back leads you to a large, sandy area with several food trailers, tables, and another stage with another band. Spooky metal sculptures of demons, devils, and various creatures lurk in corners and atop the trailers.
What struck me as more odd than the sculptures was a claw-foot bathtub filled with what I presumed was water. My partner, Wilson, and I paused at the tub for a moment before shrugging our shoulders and walking over to where the outdoor band was playing. We had come to Café Zapata specifically to see our friends, the Benka Boradovsky Bordello Band. Halfway through their set they pulled me up on stage and had me dance. My high heels, the level of alcohol in my blood, the crowded stage, and the fact that I was wearing blue jeans resulted in a terrible performance on my part. Or maybe I’m just my own worst critic, because everyone else enjoyed it and even asked for an encore. I was feeling a little too tipsy, though, so I declined.
Then I went inside to use the bathroom (which was far more frightening than the sculptures) and when I walked back outside, there was a man in fire gear waving around a flame thrower. The bathtub hadn’t been filled with water, but with gasoline. And this flame thrower guy, he was raving like a lunatic, throwing flames all over the place and shouting things in broken English.
After his performance, he went through the crowd, asking for tips. Lots of people put money in, because you should never argue with a guy who has a flame thrower.
After all the chaos, Wilson and I called it a night. As we returned to the streets of Berlin, the quiet and calm of the night almost made me think that Café Zapata had been a dream, or at the very least, a drunken hallucination.

Turkish Delight!

An interesting thing about Berlin is that there is a large Turkish population, primarily in the Kreuzberg and Neukölln neighbourhoods. Walk down Karl Marx Str. and you’ll see women wearing head scarves, men smoking hookahs, and the latest in Turkish fashion spilling out of store fronts. The best part about the Turkish areas? The Turkish markets.
Today was a lazy Tuesday. Wilson and I slept in until noon, grabbed some snacks from the bakery, and headed out to Treptower Park. Aside from a lone swan, there wasn’t too much happening, though. Visiting our friend Djamila sounded like much more fun.
Until today, I had never met Djamila. She’s a friend of Wilson. He always told me she was part Turkish and part German, but I didn’t think she looked Turkish when I met her. Wilson made a couple of Turkish references to her, including a joke about why she wasn’t wearing a head scarf. Finally, she turned to him and said, “Wilson! I’m not Turkish. I’m Algerian!” Oops.
Djamila did, however, take us to the largest Turkish market in Berlin. I love the Turkish people for many things, and their food is at the top of the list. Tables of licorice, Turkish Delight, pastries, pita bread, cheeses, tea, dates, olives, nuts, and various pickled vegetables, among other delicacies, lined the market from one end to the other. Yum. The only thing I didn't really want to eat was the octopus, but can you blame me?
There were also stalls that featured fabrics, jewelery, and clothes. I was hunting for a veil, which I needed for upcoming choreography in the dance company, but was out of luck. Veils were the one thing the market didn’t have. I did find a hot pink belly dance costume, but then decided that looking like a pink flamingo is not my style.
This particular Turkish market, which is open on Tuesday and Friday, is situated alongside the canal at Maybachufer Str. After meandering through the stalls, gorging on fresh corn on the cob, and listening to a jazz ensemble that was busking on the sidewalk, we took a stroll along the banks of the canal. I spotted a swan and pointed it out to Wilson and Djamila. And then we spotted another swan and another and another until we stumbled upon a whole swan gang. And I say gang because they were hustling like you wouldn’t believe. You think seagulls are aggressive when they want food? Wait until you see a three foot tall swan hissing at you while charging with its wings spread. You best be giving that swan some food or you’re in trouble! But I can’t really fault them. It’s not like they can go into the Turkish market and buy all that delicious food themselves.

Berlin's Underground Tours

There are many diverse ways to tour the city of Berlin. The options seem almost endless: helicopter tours, gourmet food tours, interactive mission tours, treasure hunts (for the pirate in you), bicycle tours, boat tours through the rivers and canals, a panorama S-BAHN tour (the train has glass walls), hot air balloon, Segway tours, and the list goes on . Seriously, though, touring Berlin on a Segway? The whole “dorky tourist” thing just went up to a whole new level. You can wear your Hawaiian shirt and your fanny pack and drive a segway? You may as well just stamp “tourist” on your forehead and get it over with. Maybe you’ll even get a free Segway ride if you have the “tourist” stamp. You never know.
I was taking the underground (U-BAHN) home the other night. I was tired and ready to get home, so I jumped up when I heard my train coming and was all ready to board, except that what emerged out of the tunnel was a tour group. Instead of a subway train, there was a flatbed, with about 100 or so people with yellow construction helmets sitting on it and waving at us as they passed. I didn’t get it. Who would want to tour the subway tunnels? Wouldn’t it get kind of boring after the first five minutes?
So, I looked it up. Turns out I was beyond ignorant about the underground tours. The tours aren’t about the subway tunnels (now I feel like the dork). There’s a whole labyrinth of shelters and bunkers and ghost stations and tunnels to museums and the like. The tours tend to focus on the history of WW II and the Cold War in relation to the underground tunnels. There are ten tours in total, varying in length, subject, and price.
Reading about the “tales of betrayal” that occurred in the escape tunnels between East and West Berlin is intriguing enough to make me want to pay the nine euros for Tour M. And hey, maybe I’ll even look cute in that yellow construction helmet instead of dorky. One can only hope.
More info: http://berliner-unterwelten.de

Rock-a-Belly

Call it what you will (my favourite label is “rock-a-belly”), but rock ‘n roll and belly dance make a great combination. The first time I pushed the genre was in 2006 with Wilson Gil and the Willful Sinners. The band commissioned myself and three other dancers (Jazmin, Julz, and Alex) to belly dance with machetes at one of their shows. As a bonus, the band also hired a fire eater. You can’t get much sexier than that- belly dancers, machetes, fire, and rock ‘n roll!
Since then, some of my best shows and choreography have involved rock music. If you think about it, the genre really works. Both rock music and belly dance can be sexy, edgy, raw, and full of energy. Just swap the head banging, skinny rock guy for an undulating, sultry woman. Not a bad trade if you ask me! (Kidding. I love those skinny rock guys).
The first show I produced in San Francisco featured “a night of belly dance and rock ‘n roll” and was a huge success (we sold out). I didn’t have a fire eater for that show, but I did have eleven dancers and two killer bands (Castles in Spain and The Ferocious Few). I wish there were some funny stories to tell of that evening, but everything went off without a hitch. And I guess that’s a good thing, because there’s always a slight chance that something could go wrong when mixing drunk, rowdy bar goers with scantily clad women. Luckily, everyone knew how to rock out in an appropriate manner- you can look, but DO NOT TOUCH the belly dancers!
My current project came to me via the social networking wonders of Facebook. A Middle-Eastern rock band from Palestine called “Khalas” emailed me, a Canadian belly dancer living in Berlin, to ask if I would dance to one of their songs and film it for their website. I am truly in love with online social networking and how it’s creating this wonderful web of artists from all over the world. How many cultures can we combine here? Well, the guy who’s going to be filming the video is part Egyptian, part French, and part several-other-nationalities, so apparently as many as we damn well please. That’s the beauty of pushing boundaries and combining genres that at first don’t appear to go together- what you get in the end is something international, something that breaks down stereotypes and culminates in a new sense of “togetherness”.
To see videos: Avaishya/FerociousFew
Avaishya/Alodiah/FerociousFew

Phoneyisland Cabaret

Berlin is well known for its cabaret scene. But for those of you who don’t know, a cabaret (not cabernet- that’s wine) is a show consisting of singing, dancing, comedy, or other random acts. Of course, being in Berlin, I had to perform at a cabaret at least a few times. My first performance was at the Phoneyisland Cabaret at the So Wei So Bar. They had quite the crazy puppet show that night. We’re talking goblin in a tutu, or something to that affect. It got even better when the puppeteer made out with the goblin. I don’t even know what kind of fetish you’d classify that under.
There was also a guy doing spoken word- in German- so I didn’t understand any of it except for the one English sentence he belted out in the middle of his reading: “You can suck my dick and lick my ass!”. It made me want to learn German just so I could find out what the rest of the story was about!
Wilson Gil played a couple of tunes, along with the Phoneyisland Orchestra, and a cover band. I performed my “belly dance jazz” set, which is belly dancing to vintage jazz music (including a cane dance to "Now or Never" by Billy Holiday). Usually, that set gets some “oohs” and “aahs” and appreciative looks from the crowd, but at the Cabaret they thought it was comical. Oh yeah, it turns out that they thought I was the comical act for the night! Everyone appreciated the dancing in and of itself, of course, but it was still odd to be seen as comical when that was the furthest thing from my intent.
We had such a great time at the Phoneyisland Cabaret that we performed there again at a couple nights ago. Not so many acts this time, just Wilson’s band and a gypsy punk band from New Zealand called “The Benka Boradovsky Bordello Band”. Quite the mouthful! My shtick for the evening was to perform with both bands. However, I really thought that the lead singer Ben, from The Benka Boradovsky Bordello Band, could have held his own as a belly dancer. That guy can pop and shimmy and wriggle around like he’s been belly dancing all his life! I do have to say that the moves look a lot sexier on me, though, considering Ben is a tall, skinny, orange-haired guy with a beard and a mustache. I’m just saying.