Last Sunday during a supra, I was asked to get up and perform a Georgian dance. I balked and ended up not doing it to the anger of my co teacher. Not because I am shy or don’t like to dance. But because I had forgotten some of the steps. And I was NOT about to get up in front of co workers and other people in the restaurant to make a fool of myself.
If you have been reading, I took dance lessons last year and got to be pretty good. I even did a small performance during my host brother’s graduation party. But as they say, “If you don’t use it, you lose it.”
I failed to mention that I have expanded my community of exPats here in Oz. I will talk about them in a later post. But during happy hour, I heard that they were taking dance classes. So I decided to brush up on my skills.
Last night I met them in town at 8. We walked together to the destination. Just looking from the outside, I could already tell that this place was WAY better than the last. The other place was in a smelly moldy upstairs loft. This was a legit dance studio. My friends referred to it as the compound. The instructor’s name is Zura. He is a nationally awarded dancer and choreographer and his father is a dance legend in Georgia. His students often graduate to become dancers in the national acclaimed troupe called Sukhishvili.
From the beginning I knew this would be a better fit for me. His warm ups were real exercises and they alone made your body feel as if it would revolt and stop working. We had wood floors and mirrors on the walls! (The small things are important to me.) He has a methodical sequence he is teaching us, it seems. And most importantly, we practiced the entire time. He didn’t stop to goof around or flirt. That is also important. I want to be good and I don’t want to waste time getting there.
But as I write this, I feel the burn in my calves and thighs. No Pain, No Gain!!!
“Honey, Honey… Come and dance with me.”
#36, Dave Matthews Band