The weekend in review

What a cultural weekend! THIS is what I moved to the city for. Friday, after being rejected from the Chicago Public Library (because the mail I brought to prove my address did not have a postmark), my roommate, and I and 2 friends went to have sushi. Now, mind you, I like to think of myself as slightly cultured, but I am not very adventurous where seafood is concerned. I have had the rolls before but always vegetarian ones because I've been too chicken to try anything else. But the spirit was upon us, and we laughed and chatted over the caviar, raw salmon, raw tuna, and it was ok!

When we were full we left and made our way downtown to the Chicago Theater to hear Ani DiFranco perform. While I am not very familiar with any of Ani's songs, I have admired her art and the way she uses it. She is a folk artist in the most authentic sense of the word. Original music with provocative poetry, weaving in her ideas about peace, the environment, our society, and feminism, all the while using her voice as an instrument, experimenting with words and sounds to create various effects. It was the first concert that I've been to in a while where one could actually listen to and enjoy the music without the threat of being moshed or losing your hearing. (don't get me wrong, those have their place as well). There were moments when the entire theater, holding hundreds of people, was silent hanging on Ani's every word as she recited a poem. And then on a whole different level, I was amazed that she stood up on stage, jamming on the guitar, singing, and dancing around for 2 hours while 5-6 months pregnant!

Last night after working all day, I met up with some friends from work for my Moroccan friend's birthday celebration. We walked to an Arabic bar called Souk where we enjoyed hummus, pita, and all sorts of middle eastern appetizers while patrons smoked hookah around us, the musicians pounded out the girating beat, and people danced on the floor in a large circle, holding hands, and slowly turning in time with the music. At the stroke of midnight, the dance floor cleared, the music changed, and like an apparition, a woman came through the tables wearing a golden headpiece, with a lit candelabra balanced on top of her head. Her entire being was grace, and as she stepped onto the dance floor, her hips began to shimmy and shake, her abs rolled, her hands beckoned and she swept across the floor all the while with the flames balanced on her head. She belly danced for an hour, and we were mesmerized. Every once in a while, a waitor would accept a tip from the crowd, convert it into singles, and then thumb them into the air one after another so they floated down around her as she danced. It was AMAZING. Now I have a reason to practice. I want to dance like HER! I'm still getting tangled up in my veil, and becoming wooden the moment I try to combine any of the isolated things I've learned. --moving my hands at the same time as my hips, or walking at the same time as shimmying. -- I, my friends, am entertainment of a different kind.

Mom and Dad just called from Italy to say that they arrived and just spent the day hiking through the towns of Cinque Terre. Remember that, Jen? Que nostalgia!