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!

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!

Smoking Hookahs at Sandfuersten

There’s something about smoking a hookah that becomes increasingly addictive. All those anti-tobacco activists may get mad at me for promoting this, but hookah smoking is becoming one of my favourite pastimes. Especially when it involves hot belly dancers.
Last night, Wilson Gil and I went down to our favorite hookah bar- or shisha bar as they call it here- with our two new friends, Olga and Karim. Wilson has this brilliant idea for a travel show and Karim has offered to shoot the pilot.
What better place to showcase the unique glimpses that traveling gives you than in a hookah bar in a Turkish neighborhood in a German city? Sandfuersten is particularly interesting, too, as the entire floor is made up of sand. I’m not sure where they got the sand from, but I like to think that it was imported from some faraway desert. The belly dancer, however, was definitely not an import. Laura and I dance together in the same company, Zadiraks, and she is German born and raised. And is a Turkish cabaret belly dancer. Don’t you just love how the cultural boundaries cross?
Karim shot some great footage of Laura dancing in her red velvet and sequined costume, shimmying up a sand storm and eliciting smiles from all the happy, shisha-smoking customers. Wilson had talked me into dancing a set with her, too, but I felt that it was a little awkward. I’m a tribal belly dancer and this whole Oriental/Cabaret style is new to me. I kept getting distracted by the way Laura was moving her arms. I know that may sounds silly, but arms are an important part of belly dance (but I guess “arm dance” just didn’t have as nice a ring to it), and tribal style arms are much different than Turkish cabaret style arms. So, I ended up feeling a bit like a chicken, with my arms sticking out awkwardly as I tried to mimic Laura’s. My friends told me I looked great, but that’s just because they were focusing on the belly part of the dance.
We also got some cool footage of Wilson having a bad “shisha” trip. You can’t actually get high from smoking shisha, but it’s fun to make people think that you can. And we learned something last night. It’s poor etiquette to not use your own cap for your hookah. Of course, this brought up some rather phallic images. So, remember, practice safe hookah smoking and be sure to come prepared. It never hurts to keep an extra cap in your wallet- who knows, you might need the extra protection.