They say there's something like 5 million people in Damascus and its environs, but honestly sometimes I feel like there are 30 with how I keep running into people.
UNFPA and SHABAB (that's an acronym) did some training of kids (15-30) for interactive theatre last week. The week ended with two performances where they did their skits on education and women's rights for youth and NGOs. I covered the training for UNFPA, showing up early and on a Saturday to get photos of the first day.
Soon, I was recognized. A guy came up to me and asked if I was "that girl" at the Danish party in Jeramana the previous Thursday night. "You dance well!" he said, which is exactly how you want people to identify you when trying to be all professional. "To Nancy Ajram - remember?"
All too well. The Thursday evening in question I and several others from Capoeira class went to a party hosted by Danes at a pool in Jeramana. They rented out the entire pool, and we ate meshawi, swam a bit, drank a bit, argeelaed a bit and danced. At one of the later points in the night, for a large group of us debke became booty shaking or raqs sharqi depending on the music. A Nancy Ajram song came on, one of those that my roommates and I back in Cairo 2006 had spent long nights dancing to, and I busted out the raqs sharqi.
For this, I was recognized by two of the interactive theatre actors who did not know each other but both happened to be at the party. Well, nice to meet you too.
Friday I skipped the first performance because of a conflict with my Capoeira class. It got out at eight, and as I was walking on Sharia Baghdad I ran into two of the actors. "Why weren't you at the show??" they demanded. "Tomorrow, in sha Allah" I said, but was a little embarrased because I was wearing a tiara.
It was my birthday, so my capoeria class had surprised me with cake and a tiara, which I was now wearing for all of Shariah Thawra and Baghdad to see.
So I think all of those people in the theatre group think I've crazy and possibly on crack. Which sucks because I know I'm going run into them in the future.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
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1 comment:
You made me smile with this post. Here in Lima we have a saying: Lima is a handkerchief. Whenever you know someone, you can take for granted you have, at least, one common acquaintance. And if you get to know a Peruvian (especially a Limean) while being abroad, it's the same: no six degrees of separation here, but two or three.
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