Further Adventures of Me At Folklife
Sing hey for Folklife, but woez for its last day.
Monday was brilliant. I got meself off the island (I live on an island, in case I'd forgotten to mention that) and into Seattle proper a bit later than I'd hoped, so I missed one of the classes I wanted to attend.
Folklife offers a host of performances, but they also have nifty classes on how to play instruments, the history of various kinds of music, folk dance, and stuff for professional musicians. Given that the performers on Monday were more heavily in the klezmer/bandstand/drumming way, I thought that I'd spend my morning dancing.
I missed the West African dance and the Irish set dance, but I did get there in time for Arabic and Persian folk dance, which was a blast. No one tried to put on bellydancing costumes, and it was all delightfully not "oh, I'm 50+ and trying to bellydance because I think it's sexy". Which was good, especially as every time I even try to bellydance I swear I hear Edward Said yelling at me in my head. >_<
But it was great - we did some Kurdish dance (OH HAI, SALADIN! ♥ ), Persian dance, and various and sundry others which I cannot remember. But having spent the day before with a hula hoop was really helpful, it turned out.
My mum dropped by and joined me for some Scottish country dancing taught by the Seattle branch of the Royal Scottish Country Dance.... thing. I didn't know they had a branch in Seattle. Anyway, I was just about the youngest person there, apart from one guy with long blonde hair who knew all the steps. I think the dance could've been a bit more lively, but there were rather a lot of people who weren't quite up to hop-skipping about at jiggy paces.
*shakes fist at old people*
"Damn you, gramps! Get offa my dance floor!"
After dancing holes in our shoes, my mum and I wandered off together. I got a shishkaberry (becos dey r tasty ok) and we sat in on my old friends of Nae Regrets, who were up to their usual tricks. Or so I thought. UNTIL THEY STARTED BELLYDANCING TO THE BAGPIPES.
It was globalisation in action, and possibly the best thing ever.
And the pretty young bagpiper was back, which I appreciated.
At about 6:30 or so, my dear germanlady showed up (and vazavati: what happened dere?) and my mum left to go work on her mould some more. We left the excellently Pogue-ish sounds of Ockham's Razor (an Irish folk-punk band - and respekt that name, kids) to avail ourselves of the tasty of folklife. After that, we sampled some traditional Balkan music, Appalachian blues, and zydeco.
Finally, we took in the final performance at the mural ampitheatre, which was, in a very Folklife tradition, reggae. It was so delightful. :)
Not only were there beach balls bouncing about, but there were also long balloons that some balloon-making guy kept throwing into the crowd. I guess he was feeling festive, given that it was the last day, and it made the whole experience just that more nutty and fun.
Best of all, there was a brief announcement of a missing little boy in a blue T-shirt. And do you know where this awesome kid was?
Right down in front of the stage on an old hippie's shoulders.
He stayed there through the whole rest of the performance and never stopped doing his little dance. It was adorable. And judging from the conversations I overheard in the crowd, everyone else was as enamoured of that kid as I was. The pot might've helped some, but who doesn't feel happy at a reggae concert?
Folklife ended at 9:00, presumably because it was 1) the last day and 2) not a holiday on Tuesday. It was sad that it ended, but I had a good time.
And germanlady and I went home to eat cherries and watch RoS (thank you, babe), and a charming horror movie about obeah/voodoo. That always helps. ♪
My little sister and I bitched at each other a bit when she wanted to go to bed, but such is sisterhood. She was in the right, anyway.
Now I'm off to sing African-American spirituals whilst sanding off ever banister on every porch in the house. We have a big house. And four porches. Whee!
At least I have World War Z on audiobook to comfort me in mine lowly servitude.
And it's a gorgeous day for it. Not too hot, not too cool.
P.S. All these pictures were taken with my Blackberry. Damn, but that thing has good resolution!. Esp. on the last one, which I took off my porch. The original resolution for that baby was 1600x1200, which is bigger than my computer screen! *shakes head*
Monday was brilliant. I got meself off the island (I live on an island, in case I'd forgotten to mention that) and into Seattle proper a bit later than I'd hoped, so I missed one of the classes I wanted to attend.
Folklife offers a host of performances, but they also have nifty classes on how to play instruments, the history of various kinds of music, folk dance, and stuff for professional musicians. Given that the performers on Monday were more heavily in the klezmer/bandstand/drumming way, I thought that I'd spend my morning dancing.
I missed the West African dance and the Irish set dance, but I did get there in time for Arabic and Persian folk dance, which was a blast. No one tried to put on bellydancing costumes, and it was all delightfully not "oh, I'm 50+ and trying to bellydance because I think it's sexy". Which was good, especially as every time I even try to bellydance I swear I hear Edward Said yelling at me in my head. >_<
But it was great - we did some Kurdish dance (OH HAI, SALADIN! ♥ ), Persian dance, and various and sundry others which I cannot remember. But having spent the day before with a hula hoop was really helpful, it turned out.
My mum dropped by and joined me for some Scottish country dancing taught by the Seattle branch of the Royal Scottish Country Dance.... thing. I didn't know they had a branch in Seattle. Anyway, I was just about the youngest person there, apart from one guy with long blonde hair who knew all the steps. I think the dance could've been a bit more lively, but there were rather a lot of people who weren't quite up to hop-skipping about at jiggy paces.
*shakes fist at old people*
"Damn you, gramps! Get offa my dance floor!"
After dancing holes in our shoes, my mum and I wandered off together. I got a shishkaberry (becos dey r tasty ok) and we sat in on my old friends of Nae Regrets, who were up to their usual tricks. Or so I thought. UNTIL THEY STARTED BELLYDANCING TO THE BAGPIPES.
It was globalisation in action, and possibly the best thing ever.
And the pretty young bagpiper was back, which I appreciated.
At about 6:30 or so, my dear germanlady showed up (and vazavati: what happened dere?) and my mum left to go work on her mould some more. We left the excellently Pogue-ish sounds of Ockham's Razor (an Irish folk-punk band - and respekt that name, kids) to avail ourselves of the tasty of folklife. After that, we sampled some traditional Balkan music, Appalachian blues, and zydeco.
Finally, we took in the final performance at the mural ampitheatre, which was, in a very Folklife tradition, reggae. It was so delightful. :)
Not only were there beach balls bouncing about, but there were also long balloons that some balloon-making guy kept throwing into the crowd. I guess he was feeling festive, given that it was the last day, and it made the whole experience just that more nutty and fun.
Best of all, there was a brief announcement of a missing little boy in a blue T-shirt. And do you know where this awesome kid was?
Right down in front of the stage on an old hippie's shoulders.
He stayed there through the whole rest of the performance and never stopped doing his little dance. It was adorable. And judging from the conversations I overheard in the crowd, everyone else was as enamoured of that kid as I was. The pot might've helped some, but who doesn't feel happy at a reggae concert?
Folklife ended at 9:00, presumably because it was 1) the last day and 2) not a holiday on Tuesday. It was sad that it ended, but I had a good time.
And germanlady and I went home to eat cherries and watch RoS (thank you, babe), and a charming horror movie about obeah/voodoo. That always helps. ♪
My little sister and I bitched at each other a bit when she wanted to go to bed, but such is sisterhood. She was in the right, anyway.
Now I'm off to sing African-American spirituals whilst sanding off ever banister on every porch in the house. We have a big house. And four porches. Whee!
At least I have World War Z on audiobook to comfort me in mine lowly servitude.
And it's a gorgeous day for it. Not too hot, not too cool.
P.S. All these pictures were taken with my Blackberry. Damn, but that thing has good resolution!. Esp. on the last one, which I took off my porch. The original resolution for that baby was 1600x1200, which is bigger than my computer screen! *shakes head*