Last Saturday, my mom and I went to the Eccles Community Art Center to take an African dance class. It was weird to actually take a class there, instead of teaching one. (We taught two through six year olds how to skip for ten years.) The teaching master was named Ibou Ngom and he's from Senegal.
Since he couldn't remember anybody's name, he just made up names for us. He called me Jessica and Jennifer. I figured, "Whatever. He's adorable." There was a blonde woman who got a little irked when he called her Britney Spears. Full points for her.
The dance style was called Sabar and was a lot of fun. Ibou kept nagging us to keep smiling. It's hard to smile when you can't catch your breath.
After an hour and a half, we "knew" all the steps for a celebration/welcome dance. It was, quite literally, a kick in the pants.
After we had gone home and showered off the copious amounts of sweat, we went to a dinner party at the home of the woman who had organized Ibou's visit. (She also teaches a regular African dance class.) He cooked chicken with peanut sauce for us that was tastiest food I've had in quite a while. There was also homemade hummus, brownies with applesauce, a bulgar wheat salad with cucumbers and feta, and many bottles of wine.
Apparently we crapped out of the party before the real fun began, but we had a great time anyway.
An excellent way to pass a Saturday. And tomorrow? A trip to the Fine Arts Museum in Salt Lake City for a day of Monet, Rodin, and Gainsborough.
And to think of all those people in Los Angeles who thought I'd have no exposure to culture in Utah. I'll show them, won't I?
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