Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Are You Sick or Just Dancing?
Every culture has its dance. Here, it’s a version of the Polka. Last weekend, at a small vodka and beer drinking get-together at our place, Kristi and her friends felt it necessary (for my cultural education) to teach me to Polka properly. Everyone here knows the Estonian Polka; I’m pretty sure it is taught in public schools. In the United States it is often looked upon as the dance of Midwestern grandparents. I must admit, freezing cold Russian Vodka, loud Polka music, and a sufficiently large hardwood floor make for a rather lively evening. I managed to accidentally erase the video footage taken of me dancing the Polka. I’m willing to Polka in Estonia, but I would never live it down if friends at home got a hold of the footage.
I went to a dancehall and bar with Kristi and some friends this weekend. Estonians and Finns love to dance. A version of “left-step, clap, right-step, clap” of my junior high P.E. dance lessons (mandatory for two weeks) is the basic step of every dancer on the floor. Mind you, this is to the tune of “I’m Too Sexy.” Some of the girls threw in pelvic movements with jostling shoulders, just to spice things up. I am no great dancer myself, but I can safely say that Americans could outdance the Estonians. Even on crutches. This is what happens when you have an entire nation composed of very white people; the will is there, but the rhythm is weak. This has reminded me what dancing truly is. Estonians love to dance, and not being the most skilled at it doesn't stop them nor their enjoyment doing it; everyone is smiling on the dancefloor. Everyone is having a great time, looking like a crowded juniorhigh dance class combined with alcohol . . . and an epileptic seizure.
I went to a dancehall and bar with Kristi and some friends this weekend. Estonians and Finns love to dance. A version of “left-step, clap, right-step, clap” of my junior high P.E. dance lessons (mandatory for two weeks) is the basic step of every dancer on the floor. Mind you, this is to the tune of “I’m Too Sexy.” Some of the girls threw in pelvic movements with jostling shoulders, just to spice things up. I am no great dancer myself, but I can safely say that Americans could outdance the Estonians. Even on crutches. This is what happens when you have an entire nation composed of very white people; the will is there, but the rhythm is weak. This has reminded me what dancing truly is. Estonians love to dance, and not being the most skilled at it doesn't stop them nor their enjoyment doing it; everyone is smiling on the dancefloor. Everyone is having a great time, looking like a crowded juniorhigh dance class combined with alcohol . . . and an epileptic seizure.
