I used to dance regularly at a local Moroccan restaurant. Sadly, the restaurant has since gone through a drastic remodel, so it has entirely lost its charm, but I love thinking back to the nights I danced there. The entire atmosphere was spectacular: the walls draped with rich fabrics in red and green and blue, trimmed in gold and silver; the Moroccan lamps hanging from the ceiling, casting a gentle candlelight glow through the colored glass on the dining room; the low couches and chairs, softly cushioned; the mosaic tile and wrought iron tables. All of it was stunning, colorful, delightful. The air was filled with a rich scent, combining the exotic spices in the food and the subtle aroma of burning incense. The lights were always dim, giving the room a calm, mysterious, exotic feel.
Though it was incredibly difficult dancing through the narrow aisles between the tables (and around waiters, at that), the whole experience was a lot of fun. Between the atmosphere and the music and being in costume, it felt like being transported to another world for a few hours. Although, the first time I danced there, it was a bit awkward being quite that up-close and personal with the audience, since I was so accustomed to performing on a stage in front of hundreds of people at a time. Still, the restaurant gave a more intimate, interactive experience for the diners, and that was a huge part of the appeal of the establishment. It’s really a shame they had to destroy it.
At the back of the restaurant was a slightly recessed alcove in which was set a long, low couch, in front of which was a wide table. This was the dancers’ table, and we got to sit there between sets, nibbling on hummus and pita bread while playing zills and zaghareeting for the other dancers (a zaghareet is the high-pitched ululation that you hear bellydancers give while others are dancing; it’s essentially a vocal applause, and not as raucous as the kind of cheering holler you’d give at something like a rock concert). The restaurant didn’t pay us to dance there, but we did get free dinner and all the pita bread and Moroccan tea we could consume (not to mention the tips we got from the diners). The Moroccan tea was pretty much the highlight of the evening for us. The waiter would bring out a tray holding a teapot and a set of Moroccan tea glasses, and would lift the teapot high above the glasses as he poured. There was a bit of a competition always going on among the waiters to see who could get the pot the highest without making a mess — which led to a round of very exuberant zaghareets from the dancers whenever one did a particularly impressive job.
Moroccan tea glasses are lovely: the rich colors, the intricate patterns, the lovely detail. The tea is also wonderful. Very sweet, so it was the quickest, easiest way to get us amped up for a long night of dancing. It’s like instant energy — down one small glass of tea, and only a moment later you’re jumping up to dance energetically, feeling the music and grinning as you move among the tables. Truly fantastic.
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