Dancing in Morocco

October 11. 10:30pm

Last night I started choreographing to the set dance “Hurry the Jug” (at 70), and today I was really excited about going to my dance studio early so I could practice. Jalila, my belly dancing teacher, said it would be no problem if I wanted to use the studio when it was empty. She’s beautiful and talented and one of the sweetest Moroccan women I’ve met. She’s sweet even after dancing for an hour, and after fasting all day. She’s a powerhouse.
My plan was going to work; I was going to get to Irish dance today I was excited all day long; I danced in my mind instead of listening to lectures; I choreographed the remainder of the step during the mid-morning break in Arabic class; I talked to Raquel and Maggie about dance and generally just dreamed about dancing all day. How glorious it was going to be to have free time to dance
“The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.

Said (the longest-winded man here, but also the sweetest; he took 3 minutes to explain to us that we were going to attend a music performance while on the Southern Excursion next week, and he restructured the same statement in twenty different ways: “We will have the opportunity to attend a musical performance in ...”, “Musicians will perform for us...”, “A musical performance will be given...”, “We will be treated to a night of music...” and so on.... I sat in my seat, twitching and wishing I could do a jig. It was excruciating...) and Leonardo DiCaprio prevented me from getting to the dance studio early enough to practice before belly dancing started. Mr. DiCaprio is shooting a film in Rabat, on Mohammad V Avenue, the main street that I live off of and that I walk down every single day. How dare Mr. DiCaprio take over my street? Ah, well. As frustrating as it was to have dance taken away from me by crowds of people, trucks, and barricades, it was neat to see movie cameras and hijab-ed women and djellaba-ed men gawking at the scene. Moroccans are used to movies being filmed in their country, but Leonardo is special. No less than three Moroccan men have told me that “Lay-eeo-nar-do Dee-Cab-ree–oo” is here. They think that will break the ice and then I’ll let them talk to me, follow me, or buy me a coffee. Haha. Not so.
Despite Leonardo and the mob scene, I made it to dance with ten minutes to spare before I had to shake my butt and move my hips. With belly dancing music in the background, I free-styled. I made up new patterns to prepare for leaps (which were unusually high today—so exciting ) and “running mans, I practiced jumps, I fooled around and combined my own version of modern dancing with some Irish moves and the rhythms of Moroccan music. It was a great ten minutes.
Belly dancing class wasn’t that bad, either...... I just have trouble looking sexy while doing it. And instead of my butt shaking, sometimes my whole body gets away from me and everything shakes. Jalila just smiles when I say, “I’ll practice and I’ll get it.” “Insha’allah”, she says. “Insha’allah.”