Hi people. Today I had my first (and last) Indian dance class. In response to anyone calling me a quitter or giving me lectures on not giving up and sticking with things, I’m going to quote Shawn Spencer “I do quit, all the time, but not until the moment is right.” The moment is right. Turns out not that much has changed since I was a 4 year old taking jazz dance. I still do each step 5 seconds late. However, I do have bigger feet than I did back in 1995. That translates into more to trip over. Also, my added height equals a much longer way to fall. Therefore, it's time to yet again turn in my dancing shoes. I am glad I tried it though. Definitely an experience. One thing I thought was cool is that she brought this statue of Shiva down to pray to him before we started because he’s the God of dance. We also prayed to mother earth to apologize for jumping on the ground. Cool right?
My dance class was not my only encounter with the art of dance this week. Taylor (the boy from my study abroad group) and I made friends with an Indian family while we were at the Hindu temple for prayer. They invited us over to their house. We ate a lot of Indian desserts and watched their daughters do Indian dance. They were really good too! After they finished, the family told us we needed to do some American dance. I looked at them like a deer in headlights but somehow managed to get up in front of them. After I’d exhausted all of the dance moves I know (the sprinkler, some Saturday night fever disco action, and of course my signature move which I have been told is reminiscent of Danny Tanner) they were still looking at me expectantly. I had no other choice but to dust of the kindergarten classic, the Macarena. They were dying laughing, but it seemed to satisfy their craving for ridiculous American dance.
Why do I get the feeling that even without a dance class, there are many embarrassing dancing encounters to come during my stay in India? I blame Bollywood.
One of the little girls we watched dance. Stinkin cute.
The family that invited us over. So nice and generous
me as a dancing queen. youngest queen, only.....4. and that's where i have to stop singing Abba. :)
Oh, Colleen! You and your dancing ways! I loved this post so much and have only the fondest memories of the 4-year-old dancing you. I love that your big finish was the Macarena! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!!!!!! So funny!
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