Tahitian dance chronicles, part two: Going to To’ata

by Celeste Brash on

It was February and I’d been taking Tahitian dance classes for six months. I was now loving my twice-weekly wiggle as well as hanging out with my sometimes cranky but always lively retired Tahitian classmates. My hips were really starting to move and my rolling ueue shake was getting so fast that the teacher grouped me into the more competent half of our class.

Now the warm-ups were more complicated, with moves like the afata (hips like a box) that I just couldn’t get right. At least the previously aloof ladies in class were now being helpful.

“Follow me,” Tania would say, bringing me over to copy her. “See you bend the knee, keep it bent, straighten then straighten. Move the hips in a square to the count of four.”

We had also started learning the choreography for two aparima, slow, graceful dances with swaying hips and lots of wave-like arm gestures. The dances were less blatantly sexy than our fast otea, but embodied a quiet feminine beauty.

I still was adamant about not performing in the show until the day our teacher Heirani announced that we were going to start making costumes.”We’ll start with our more [grass skirt] belt and headdress,” she said. “All the feathers, shells and pandanus are provided by the school and we’ll be sewing together Saturday morning.”

Grass skirts, fluffy belts, big hats and a sewing circle: this was a culture freak’s girl-time nirvana. I couldn’t help it, I wanted to wear an outrageous costume made out of leaves and shells and make it myself with the help of the locals. I told everyone that I was going to make the costumes then decide later if I was going to do the show or not. They all nodded calmly as if to say, “yeah, sure, that’s what they all say.”

When I showed up on Saturday to make my first costume I encountered a new surprise. There were at least ten other classes at the dance school and on costume day everyone was there together as a group. I knew almost everyone. There was my good friend Amel, my swimming buddy Niouk and my carpool partner Karine. It dawned on me that although I knew all of these people danced, I had never appreciated what dance had meant in their lives. After 15 years I was suddenly in a club I hadn’t realized existed. For all these years I’d been missing out on this beautiful and essential part of Tahitian culture. Now whenever I saw these friends outside of dance all we talked about was choreography and costumes.

There was a Gala rehearsal and I went. We learned how we needed to move around the stage while doing our moves in relation to the other dancers. I was used to my class of around 15 women but now we were a group of 200, ranging from age five to 75 in all shapes and sizes.

After this rehearsal there was another and then another. A live percussion orchestra played the songs we’d been dancing to in class and suddenly we were a complete, massive and organic piece of performance art. Heirani added a Monday class so we could practice more often and one morning a week was dedicated to costume making. I had a list of plants I needed to gather for my show skirts including strips of red banana trunk fiber and 50 green ‘ti leaves. Every time I was invited over to someone’s house I’d troll their garden for material.

“Yeah I’ll have a beer, and you don’t happen to have a red banana tree or some of those elephant ear vines in your yard do you?”

My fingers were sore from sewing and my legs and abs were sore from dancing so much.

During rehearsals we began to see what the other classes were up to. One day instead of practicing with my group I sat and watched the Advanced-Pro class of beautiful young women. Suddenly my class’ dances were put in perspective: we were the background music. These sirens were so outrageously lovely and moved so fluidly with such sexuality and grace that I realized no one at the Gala would be watching — could be watching — anyone else but them. It dawned on me that the athletic suppleness of Tahitian dance is made for young and limber bodies but the open-hearted culture allows everyone to take part in the fun. We all had our place in the show in the way that suited us best. Every aparima and otea told a story and created a frame in which the Advanced-Pro girls could set the stage on fire. And these dancers were literally going to set the scene aflame with giant fiery batons for one of their fast otea dances; my group would perform a gentle aparima with humble little candles just afterwards.

Our show was supposed to be at the Gauguin Museum Restaurant in the low-key village of Papeari, but there was some problem and the location was no longer available. Heirani announced we would now be dancing at To’ata Amphitheater in Papeete, the biggest venue in the country where all the big professional dances and the Heiva I Tahiti performances take place. Posters were put up all over the island, Heirani, was interviewed about the show for several local TV shows and articles were written about our troupe in the newspaper. Our show would be one of the biggest and first performances of the dance season leading up to the Heiva. Some of the Advanced-Pro dances would go on to the Heiva.

Without really being conscious of what had happened, I had gone from casually taking dance classes to committing to dance in five different numbers in front of over 2000 people in the capital city. But I was ready — I was having a ball and couldn’t have cared less if my hips made thousands of people giggle.

Yesterday: Tahitian dance chronicles, part one: Getting hooked
Tomorrow: Tahitian dance chronicles, part three: Dancing towards a new adventure

[Photos: Celeste Brash]

Tahitian dance chronicles, part one: Getting hooked

by Celeste Brash on

Early explorers were struck by its sensuality, Christian missionaries banned it shortly after their arrival, and the open-minded 1960s began to revive it. Today, the uber-fast hip shaking of Tahitian dance is again ever-present in French Polynesia. The best performances can be seen at the Heiva I Tahiti festival at Papeete’s Toa’ata Amphitheater in July, when locals and foreigners flock to watch some of humankind’s most spectacular dance extravaganzas. Accentuated by flamboyant costumes and live traditional percussion orchestras, the festival’s singing and dancing competitions are an unrivaled Polynesian highlight.

I’ve lived in French Polynesia for the last 15 years and have always been in awe of Tahitian dance. Although I’d been tempted to take classes, my busy lifestyle and distance from dance schools made it hard for me to make the time. But when my family and I decided to return to live in the U.S. in the near future, I knew my remaining months in Polynesia would be my last chance to explore the culture’s greatest performing art. I signed up at a school in a nearby town and hoped my schedule would allow me to keep it up. I had no idea what I was really getting myself into.

I’d been to some amateur dance school performances over the years and invariably there were French students whose hips just didn’t move like those of the girls who had grown up in the islands. It sounds mean, but it’s impossible to watch a show without snickering at them a little; everyone does it.

When I told my husband I was going to start dance classes, he immediately said, “OK, but please don’t do a show — that’s just way too embarrassing.”

In other circumstances this might have been rude, but I knew exactly what he meant. No, I was with him on this one: There was no way I was going to dance on stage as the stiff white girl.

I decided to take a morning class, which ended up being full of retired Tahitian ladies. I already knew one or two of them but to my surprise my reception was cool. They had all been dancing together for years and I was crashing their party with my thirty-something-year-old hips that moved like the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz. Still, the fast toere wood drum music and my talented teacher, Heirani, made me immediately love learning to fa’atere (quick hip flicks while shuffling on one’s toes) and varu (a figure-eight hip roll) across the wood floor of the hot dance studio. By the end of each class all of us were drenched in sweat and had grins stretched across our faces.

Soon the choreography got more complicated and my ineptitude shone through more. I’ve always been good at remembering stuff I read, but movement memory is another discipline. We’d learn a dance on Wednesday and by Friday I’d have forgotten it. Meanwhile, Isabelle, a French math teacher and one of the few other new students, seemed to have a photographic memory for choreography. Everyone was friendly with Isabelle while I was still the annoying new girl, messing up the dances. Someone organized a luncheon for our class and forgot to invite me. I tried not to be hurt but I was starting to feel like a real loser.

A few months into classes, Heirani announced our first rehearsal.

“We’re doing a show?” I asked in my now expected cluelessness.

“Yes, we do a Gala performance in May every year,” said Timerii, who I’ve known forever but who was aloof with me in class. “You should do it, it’s fun.”

“Oh no,” I said. “I’ll just mess it up for you.”

“Well, as it gets closer you’ll want to do it, you’ll see,” Timerii replied in a surprisingly encouraging way.

I didn’t go to the Gala rehearsal and then left the country for about a month for work. My first day back to class I showed up jetlagged but enthusiastic to learn what I’d missed.

“Ah, Celeste,” said our teacher. “You’re the only one who hasn’t passed the test.”

“Test?”

She put me up at the front of the class — my test was to teach the warm-up session. I was tired and had no idea what to do. I swayed my hips back and forth and waved my arms around a bit but after a few minutes the students just stopped and mumbled things like, “Jeez, can’t you come up with something better than that?”

Just as I was about to run away and never come back I spotted Arvella, a retired school principal, at the back of the room waving at me in the wall-sized mirror. She began doing all the movements I was supposed to be doing and silently motioned me to follow. By looking in the mirror I could cheat and follow her. My students mimicked me even though they knew I was watching Arvella; by the end everyone told me I’d done a splendid job.

It was hard catching up on the choreography I’d missed but the new dance was such a beautiful blend of classic Tahitian moves and modern ideas that I was spellbound and determined to get it right. Tahitian dance is filled with symbolism and this was our Earth otea with arm movements that mimicked sprouting vines; it looked a like Shakira doing Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.” An otea is the fast hip-shaking type of dance that Tahiti is famous for and I loved the athletic energy mixed with Polynesian grace.

Suddenly my hips were starting to really wiggle. During our warm-ups where we would all shake our hips as fast as we could in a circular movement called a ueue, I started to get nods of approval from fellow students. Even Heirani seemed pleased.

There was another luncheon and I was invited. We drank vodka-coconut cocktails mid-day on the beach and laughed together.

“Aw, Celeste,” they all cackled. “You have to do the Gala with us. You’ll want to, you’ll see.”

Tomorrow: “Tahitian dance chronicles, part two: Going to To’ata”

[Photos: Josh Humbert and Celeste Brash]

Taste of the Hawaiian Range Festival celebrates local food culture, sustainability

by Laurel Miller on

Most people don’t associate Hawaii with cowboys, but the paniolo is an iconic and enduring symbol of the state’s ranching and agricultural heritage. On September 10th, Mealani’s Taste of the Hawaiian Range and Agriculture Festival celebrates all that is meaty and locally produced, at the Hilton Waikoloa Village on the Big Island’s sweeping Kohala Coast.

Now in its 15th year, the festival brings the public together with ranchers and farmers to promote locavorism and sustainable agriculture. Join over 30 chefs and food vendors for some ono grinds, and “talking story.” On the menu: grassfed and -finished beef, pork, lamb, goat, and mutton, and wild boar, as well as produce from nearby family farms.
James Beard Award-winning chef George “Mavro” Mavrothalassitis-one of the founders of Hawaiian Regional Cuisine-will also be on hand to teach a Cooking Grass-fed Beef 101 class. No pupu platter jokes, please.

The national parks celebrate July 4th

by Kraig Becker on

Looking for things to do today to help celebrate the fourth of July? Then look no further than the U.S. National Parks, many of which are hosting special events to celebrate Independence Day.

For example, Mt. Rushmore has a full schedule of activities set for the day that includes folk dancing, autographs from historical figures, music, and informational talks given by the rangers. In the evening, there will be a lighting ceremony, a film and a patriotic rendition of the national anthem. All of these events will take place in the shadow of one of the best known monuments in the world, in which four former Presidents watch over the region. (Cost: Free!)

Visitors to Morristown National Historic Park, located in New Jersey, can enjoy a live reading of the Declaration of Independence by a park ranger in a traditional historical costume. Prior to the reading, there will be stories, jokes, and riddles delivered by the staff, and an inspection of the Revolutionary era troops as well. After the reading there will be live music provided by historical balladeer Linda Russell too. (Cost: Free!)

Over in Harper’s Ferry, West Virginia, there will be a traditional 1860’s era celebration, with a picnic, band concerts, and patriotic speeches in honor of the founding fathers. There will also be a display of the “Wonders of the World” circa 1860 as well, and visitors can compete in the militia games in such events as tug-of-war and a water bucket brigade. (Cost: $6/car or $4/person on foot or bike)

The 4th of July is celebrated in grand style in the Colorado National Monument where they raise the flag 450 feet above the canyon floor to the top of Independence Monument, the tallest free standing rock formation in the park. That formation will be scaled by 30 rock climbers who will deliver “Old Glory” to its resting place for the day. There will also be guided walks through the park and inspirational stories told as well. (Cost: Free!)

Valley Forge National Park will have an Independence Day celebration of its own with living history demonstrations that include artillery from the Revolutionary War. Vendors will be selling hamburgers and hotdogs, and there will be plenty of games and crafts for the kids to enjoy as well. (Cost: Free!)

This is just a taste of some of the events going on in the National Parks today. Check out NPS.org to see what your favorite park has planned. Chances are, you’ll be able to celebrate the day with some fun activities.

Happy 4th of July everyone!

[Photo credit: NPS.gov]

Ten wondrous things you can get away with at the beach

by Annie Scott on


Going to the beach affords us all kind of freedoms. Just the hot sand and crashing waves can send people into spiritual abandon. That feeling is not solely internally manifested; there are genuine external freedoms we experience at the beach. Not all, but many social rules are gleefully shed when you hit seashore.

If you’re vacationing at a beach resort, many of the following un-rules apply to the pool, as well — but don’t try to get away with them inside the hotel (especially #9).

Here are Ten wondrous things you can get away with at the beach which you can’t get away with almost anywhere else.

1. Wearing nothing but underwear.

Swimming suits are basically underwear. They may be made of a different material, but wearing either to church without a cover-up is frowned upon. Furthermore, at some beaches, women can go topless — and at nude beaches, you don’t have to wear anything at all.

2. Asking strangers to rub you.

At the beach, once you have struck up a conversation, it is perfectly acceptable to ask someone (preferably on a similar tier of attractiveness) to rub sunscreen on your back. You’re not being lewd, you’re just avoiding cancer. As long as you’ve been chatting and they don’t seem weirded out by you, it’s totally cool.3. Letting it all hang out.

Regular beachgoers know that no matter how fat you feel, someone fatter than you is wearing next to nothing nearby. Let it all hang out.

4. Making art out of whatever you see.

The art of the sandcastle is widely appreciated, and it’s totally acceptable to pick up rubbish along the shore to augment your creation. Building a castle out of found objects almost anywhere else is something of a faux pas.

5. Drinking during the day.

Nobody but your mother judges you for a cooler of beer at the beach. Even if it’s only 11:00 AM. Everyone gets on with their own lives, for the most part, and even if they notice, they just assume that this is the day you’ve designated to party.

6. Floating.

When you think about it, the act of floating is rather personal and vulnerable. You don’t lie on your back in front of clients or potential employers. At the beach, no one judges your bouyancy but you.

7. Burying the living.

Only at the beach can you bury your friends, neighbors and spouses the way you’ve wanted to all these years. Put on your best lighthearted face and enjoy the malicious act of trying to make sure they can’t move at all.

8. Eating almost naked.

Yes, you’re wearing attire on par with underwear, but you can totally still walk up to the taco truck — and chow down — publicly. If you are messy and “get a little on you,” just rinse yourself off in the water.

9. Dripping.

And, when you get out of said water, be it salty or fresh, everyone expects you to be drenched. You’ll probably leave a trail of drippage behind you. It’s cool.

10. Sleeping.

There’s your house, a hotel, the airplane, and there’s the beach. There’s pretty much nowhere else you can sleep without risking arrest or at least awakening.

Just remember, anyone who tells you not to do one of these things is jealous.

[Photo credit: Annie Scott]