Persian Dancing around the Christmas Tree

The first challenge I encountered when I moved to Vancouver was the Persian dance. Wherever I was on a party, Persians would ask me to dance. But how could I, as a Dutch girl, ever make such elegant moves as they do?

I come from the Netherlands, the country of straightforwardness, but also of shyness. My grandpa always said, "just behave normal, then you are weird enough", and this seemed to be the mantra of most of the older generation. The only time when they would let themselves go a little was twice a year on a birthday party to do a little dance with their wooden shoes.

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Most of them stopped dancing right after their wedding dance, for which they even attended some lessons beforehand. And when you see them dance in the pub, then you will see: they don't have any kind of rhythm in their bodies, and they start robot-dancing the moment they hear the music with their beers clasped in their hands. Basically there are two kind of moves: up-and-down, or right-step-left-step.

Girls are sometimes even worse: with their Dutch stiffness they try to imitate the ass-movements of Nicki Minaj, and end up looking like a confused sex-worker. Not that I am such a great dancer but, come on, that is not dancing!

So you can imagine that I was totally surprised by the dance moves of my Persian friends. The moment the music starts playing they scream from joy, all running to the dance floor with their arms up in the air, making elegant dance moves. I had never seen such fantastic dance in my life!

Last Christmas, my boyfriend's parents were in town. After the Christmas dinner we settled down on the couch. Everyone talked a bit and felt the after-dinner-sleepiness overwhelming our stuffed bodies. Suddenly I had the feeling that everyone was bored, but I did not understand why. Soroush, my boyfriend, saw it too and ran to the TV. Quickly he looked up some Persian channel and started playing some old Persian dance songs. The rhythms filled the room, and the whole family jumped up and started dancing around the Christmas tree. Shoulders moved, bums circled and hands raised fiercely. Dad started a belly dance and we all danced around the table while the proud Persian sounds filled my living room.

I joined them of course with the same amount of enthusiasm that I do everything with, but how awkward is it when everyone wants you to do a dance that you know nothing of!? So I did some Nicki Minaj moves, but they laughed as if I was joking.

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I decided to then stop moving my lower body and focus on my shoulders instead. But why wouldn't they move? The more I shook my shoulders, the more I looked like a crazy washing machine, centrifuging the laundry. I focused on the hands instead, and the family clapped as if I was a monkey performing his most difficult trick. Actually, I couldn't get a hang of the most simple moves and I just jumped happily up and down, which is what the parents called my 'Dutch dance', with an endearing look on their face.

Compared to birthday parties or family gatherings in Holland, this was so different. Unless they're very drunk, the older Dutch generation barely dances. But Persians dance on every occasion that they are together. Be they in the garden or in an airplane, when the music starts playing, they start moving.

I got used to it now. Right now I am that kind of Caucasian 'fake Persian' that tries to dance with them. My Persian friends still encourage me, so I guess they are wether laughing their asses off, or I am really making progress in my dance moves. Whatever it is, Persian dance makes me happy, and I love that dancing is so integrated in their culture. These things should be cherished!

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