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parasitegirlLast night at Istanbul could have gone better, but it also could have
been horrible. As it was, Anaan thought I was just wonderful (she, her
mother, and her boyfriend sat in the entranceway of the packed
restaurant to see me) one of the regulars tipped me and this morning
Anaan sent me a text message about how I have now gone through a
rite-of-passage in belly dance, the energy and joy-sucking bitch in the
audience.
I thought I did well, but was a little thrown off my game. I must have been thrown off my pelvis tucking posture a bit as well because my back is rather stiff right now.
I arrived at Istanbul and it was, as advertised, packed to the gills with people I didn’t know.
Like many Shinjuku restaurants, it isn’t a large place. There is a bit of bare floor after the entrance and register and before the kitchen and restrooms on which to dance. As you dance and look out into the audience to your diagonal left is the open kitchen and a long counter for customers to squeeze into (like a sushi joint) into it, in front of you are a line of tables of people leaning forward to see you over the food in front of them, and to the right is the another row of tables, benches, and the wall. If you’re thinking of dancing down the two aisles between seated customers you’ll have to move sideways, lift your chest, and suck in your stomach. As it is, you will be dancing about a foot away from the table front and centre most of the time.
When I arrived all the tables were filled except the table for two smack dab in front of the dance space, which had a sign announcing that it was reserved.
As I waited for changing time the couple came, gaijin of some sort, and there was something that hinted to me that this girl might know something about dance / middle eastern stuff. Her boyfriend spoke English in a manner that suggested that English might have been her second language. Japanese wasn’t either of their languages as they both gave complicated orders with this changed and that on the side to the staff complete with sighs and loudly repeated English...oh, fun, I thought.
By this point Anaan and buddies had arrived and stood waiting in the doorway. A regular customer (who had tipped me after my last performance) asked after my teacher’s health and made small talk with me. The owner gave me the sign to get changed in the bathroom and I did. After I was all pinned into everything I gave the signal and the music started.
I began to dance.
At least seven Japanese women had their cellphones out and raised to capture cell-snapshots.
“This song isn’t a Turkish song” she sighed loudly to her boyfriend.
“Nope, it ain’t a 9/8th rhythm, I don’t know shit about Turkish dance. I’m cabaret style. This is Japan and you should be happy that there isn’t a King Tut behind my shooting green laser beams...bitch.” I thought.
Actually the first word I thought was, simply, cunt.
And the music stopped abruptly a minute or so into my first song. There was the pause, my laughing Ta-da! Applause, and then it started up in a slightly different spot and I kept going.
As did she. Raising eyebrows. Pursing her lips as she stared at my stomach. Eye rolling! She and her boyfriend kept signalling for the waiter who would then have to dart around me as I danced inches away from the lovely couple haggling over something they had ordered.I know that the harshest audience members are females and I’ve had some limited experiences in the past but I’ve been able to win them or they’ve been far enough away to ignore if need be. I was surprised at how much it unnerved me. It’s not like I don’t have expereince dealing with random female hate vibes, but it has been ages since I’ve really had that sort of nasty flung in my face.
At you can guess, she wouldn’t get up and dance with me, which was my last ditch effort. I thought being able to “”show me up” or get applause might have helped her dour mood.
I usually would not have wedged my way down the aisle to dance at the back of the restaurant, but I did! It helped.She didn’t throw off my whole game, but it was difficult enough as it was. I didn’t have much sleep, I hadn’t had time to run through the routine during the day, or warm up much in the bathroom. Majority of the audience seemed to be office workers drinking together and chatting, more interested in socializing than being spectators. But if I hadn’t been thrown for a loop by negative response these things wouldn’t have bothered me.
Afterwards I was just knackered, and annoyed, and experiencing some back pain. I left without getting food to go. The salaryman-regular who had made small talk with me before the show waved me over and wanted to thank me and give me an extra 1,000yen (9 dollars or so) and kissed me hand. I explained to Anaan and crew that I really did need to just go home. I called Kazu and crew who had also not been able to get a table that night and told him that I'd messed up my back and was going home. One hagendaaz bar and a bottle of Pocari Sweat later I was fast asleep.
I’m skipping dance lessons today to catch up on my rest (and cleaning and cooking and Deadwood). Despite last night, I’m looking forwards to next Friday. Oh, and if that girl was a dancer, I am totally sending out "may you have severe intenstinal distress the next time you dance" vibes to her.
I thought I did well, but was a little thrown off my game. I must have been thrown off my pelvis tucking posture a bit as well because my back is rather stiff right now.
I arrived at Istanbul and it was, as advertised, packed to the gills with people I didn’t know.
Like many Shinjuku restaurants, it isn’t a large place. There is a bit of bare floor after the entrance and register and before the kitchen and restrooms on which to dance. As you dance and look out into the audience to your diagonal left is the open kitchen and a long counter for customers to squeeze into (like a sushi joint) into it, in front of you are a line of tables of people leaning forward to see you over the food in front of them, and to the right is the another row of tables, benches, and the wall. If you’re thinking of dancing down the two aisles between seated customers you’ll have to move sideways, lift your chest, and suck in your stomach. As it is, you will be dancing about a foot away from the table front and centre most of the time.
When I arrived all the tables were filled except the table for two smack dab in front of the dance space, which had a sign announcing that it was reserved.
As I waited for changing time the couple came, gaijin of some sort, and there was something that hinted to me that this girl might know something about dance / middle eastern stuff. Her boyfriend spoke English in a manner that suggested that English might have been her second language. Japanese wasn’t either of their languages as they both gave complicated orders with this changed and that on the side to the staff complete with sighs and loudly repeated English...oh, fun, I thought.
By this point Anaan and buddies had arrived and stood waiting in the doorway. A regular customer (who had tipped me after my last performance) asked after my teacher’s health and made small talk with me. The owner gave me the sign to get changed in the bathroom and I did. After I was all pinned into everything I gave the signal and the music started.
I began to dance.
At least seven Japanese women had their cellphones out and raised to capture cell-snapshots.
“This song isn’t a Turkish song” she sighed loudly to her boyfriend.
“Nope, it ain’t a 9/8th rhythm, I don’t know shit about Turkish dance. I’m cabaret style. This is Japan and you should be happy that there isn’t a King Tut behind my shooting green laser beams...bitch.” I thought.
Actually the first word I thought was, simply, cunt.
And the music stopped abruptly a minute or so into my first song. There was the pause, my laughing Ta-da! Applause, and then it started up in a slightly different spot and I kept going.
As did she. Raising eyebrows. Pursing her lips as she stared at my stomach. Eye rolling! She and her boyfriend kept signalling for the waiter who would then have to dart around me as I danced inches away from the lovely couple haggling over something they had ordered.I know that the harshest audience members are females and I’ve had some limited experiences in the past but I’ve been able to win them or they’ve been far enough away to ignore if need be. I was surprised at how much it unnerved me. It’s not like I don’t have expereince dealing with random female hate vibes, but it has been ages since I’ve really had that sort of nasty flung in my face.
At you can guess, she wouldn’t get up and dance with me, which was my last ditch effort. I thought being able to “”show me up” or get applause might have helped her dour mood.
I usually would not have wedged my way down the aisle to dance at the back of the restaurant, but I did! It helped.She didn’t throw off my whole game, but it was difficult enough as it was. I didn’t have much sleep, I hadn’t had time to run through the routine during the day, or warm up much in the bathroom. Majority of the audience seemed to be office workers drinking together and chatting, more interested in socializing than being spectators. But if I hadn’t been thrown for a loop by negative response these things wouldn’t have bothered me.
Afterwards I was just knackered, and annoyed, and experiencing some back pain. I left without getting food to go. The salaryman-regular who had made small talk with me before the show waved me over and wanted to thank me and give me an extra 1,000yen (9 dollars or so) and kissed me hand. I explained to Anaan and crew that I really did need to just go home. I called Kazu and crew who had also not been able to get a table that night and told him that I'd messed up my back and was going home. One hagendaaz bar and a bottle of Pocari Sweat later I was fast asleep.
I’m skipping dance lessons today to catch up on my rest (and cleaning and cooking and Deadwood). Despite last night, I’m looking forwards to next Friday. Oh, and if that girl was a dancer, I am totally sending out "may you have severe intenstinal distress the next time you dance" vibes to her.
