Signs of Settling In

I suppose that it is bound to happen anywhere you begin to live. There comes a point where, the newness of your immediate surroundings has worn off and you begin to feel and act like a ‘native’ of the place. Such has happened to me this week.

For instance, people stop and ask me for directions. Just today on the 4 aleph bus the young man sitting across from me, obviously Israeli, asked me if we were on Rehov (street) King George. Even more surprising, to me, was that I knew exactly where we were and when we turned on King George I said to him, ‘ze, Rehov King George’, this is King George Street. So proud, so proud.

Then, last week I was out in the neighborhood and I saw a woman who looked familiar to me. Briefly at first, I thought she was a friend and began to smile and almost talk with her. Then I realized that she was one of the women who worked at the Post Office on Rehov Keren Kayemet. I did that once before in my hometown of Fairfield in the US. I saw a checker from the Stop and Shop and started to wave to her thinking she was a good friend when really, all she did was touch my groceries and charge me for them. I felt so foolish. But when you see people on the street who look familiar to you, well, you’re settling in.

My dreams have also begun to include local people and local places. Last week in my dream I was in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre showing around and doing some business with an Arab Israeli friend.

But last night, I have to say, was the best. I dreamt that I was waiting for the Egged bus #14 to get to my bellydance class in Talpiot – a ‘hood of Jerusalem. I was with my mother. I don’t often dream about her, she passed away in 1987 but, there she was. I wanted to take her to my class.
We kept waiting, and waiting. Bus #17 to Hadassah Hospital and Ein Kerem passes. Bus #19 to Mount Scopus passes. Bus #9 to Givat Ram. Bus #405 to Tel Aviv. And they kept flying by us so fast until finally, I realized that we were waiting on the wrong side of the street.

We crossed over and got the #14. Once inside the studio my teacher Sagit was there, I tied on my pink hip scarf and began to shimmy! I woke up feeling like I had had a work out!

Can you believe that I’m dreaming about the Egged bus company!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

No dream analysis please….I’m crazy enough.

Belly Dance Sistah's...where are ya??

“Kadima. Ekhad, shat’im, shalosh, arba, khamesh, shesh, sheva, shmone. Yamin, shat’im, shalosh, arba, Smol, shat’im, shalosh, arba. Tweest, tweest, tweest, shimmy. Metsuyan!, Excellent!” Sagit loves to see her students jingling our hip scarves in unison. Belly dancing in the Middle East, what a concept. I’m having fun even if the class is in Hebrew and, in between the actual dancing, Sagit instructs her little heart out and I don’t have a clue what she is saying. Thankfully she is very methodical so I know exactly what we are doing and when. I listen carefully but I have to admit, sometimes I look out the window of her studio to the wild marketplace right below us. Vendors are yelling loudly to get rid of their merchandise. Then, I hear the music and her voice, “Kadima, forward”. It’s back to dancing.

“She’elote? Questions?” I have none. None at least that I know of. I have no clue what she is saying but I can tell from her facial expressions that she loves the art of the dance and wants all of us to dance like real belly dancers. Every now and then she’ll talk to me in English just to make sure that I’m keeping up with the class. I am. It’s a beginner class so I know most of the steps. (CT belly dancers, we really ARE advanced beginners)

Probably this is a little known fact to most of you, but for the last year and a half I’ve studied belly dancing with Tava in Westport. Our little troupe has even performed (oh geezzz, don’t tell anyone, I’ll need to get a job when I get back home) at the Blue Sky Café in Norwalk. A classy joint. I miss Tava and my fellow belly dancers, it’s just not the same without you. Have fun at your upcoming party. We're having a dance party during Hannakah so I’ll let you know all about it.

Exotic Bellydance, Standup Comedy, or Clergy Self Care

Last Friday night was the summer performance of the Manipura Belly Dance Troupe under the direction of belly dance master Tava.

My daughter and I have been taking belly dance lessons and we have laughed and rolled our eyes each week for over a year now. We shimmy and roll. We ching our zills, we command our scarves with bellydancer attitude. We shake our sequined and coined hipscarved butts until the coins fly off in shear frenzy. We perform at Norwalk's finest, the Blue Sky Cafe, who just lost their liquor license. We wake up the next morning and wonder, why are we doing this? What have we done? I, in particular, wonder if I am a closeted stand up comedian and not a clergyperson. There are many good questions in life - what have I done is just one of them.

One movie that I have watched over and over again is Bronco Billy with Clint Eastwood and Sondra Locke. Eastwood (Bronco Billy) forms a traveling Wild West show and performs for all the 'lil pawdners out there. By necessity, or abandonment, Sondra Locke (Miss Lily) joins the show. She hates it. Not her kind of people! She mocks them and puts them down until you want to slap her upside the face. You see she thinks that they are all just fake cowboys. She's an heiress and the rest are ex cons or alcoholics. Of course in the end she falls in love with Billy and begins to understand that they are not so different after all.

At one point in the film, Billy who is in love with Miss Lily but exasperated beyond H E double toothpick, tries to get her to understand that this gang of cowboys and cowhands are just livin' out their lives doin' what makes them happy. Spreadin' some joy out there to all the 'lil pawdners who need some fantasy and cheerin' up. They know they're not REAL cowboys, for cryin' out loud Billy is a shoe salesman who happened to murder his wife! But in the end they stick together.

So why do a pre-school teacher, a hairstylist and salon owner, an elementary school teacher, a PR rep, a Marketing rep, a massage therapist, an ESL teacher, a musician, a hotel manager, an insurance broker, and a clergywoman get out there and shake our booty? Because we love it. H E double toothpick, we're not REAL bellydancers but we're not fake ones either. We dance because it's a beautiful form of dance and Tava makes us feel good about ourselves. We look at Tava who is no bigger than a minute, try and mimic her and think we are dancing just as exotically as she is. We are fantasy seekers. We dance because it's fun, and we like to look pretty.

We continue to dance throughout the hot summer months because, beyond bellydancing, we have formed a friendship around a common theme. And hey, did I say we like sparkle, glitter, sequins and showing our navels. (some of them do - not me for heaven's sake, I do have boundaries for cryin' out LOUD - I may have to get another pulpit sometime).

Tava, my fellow bellydancers, I will miss you this next year while I'm in Israel. But, I won't fall behind thanks to Sagit, my surrogate belly dance teacher in Jerusalem. Yes, stay tuned, belly dancing in the Middle East I'm sure will be good for another couple of blogs.

Everybody should try a little belly dance in their lives. Exotic Bellydance, Standup Comedy, or Clergy Self Care? Yes.

Praise God with tambourines and dance; Let everything that breathes praise the Lord!