I have betrayed the backpacker community. For this sin, I can not atone. Once you cross the line, there is no turning back. I went to an overpriced trouist trap folkdance dinner show. I apologize.
Unsurprisingly, the dancers were less than enthusiastic. Eight different types of dances were performed and at least one of the dancers was sporting a completely bored expression. One was even chewing gum. The restaurant holds a stage in the center and Monday’s crowd only filled half the area.
The live band pounds, strums and honks their tunes and the dancers twirled every which way. The main reason I came to this was to take pics of indegenous costumes; some are still worn by many of the communities that I have passed through. My camera doesn’t allow me to take good pics from far away and I don’t want to shove my camera in somebody’s face. Yes, taking a pic without their consent from far away is OK by me. But up close? I can’t run away fast enough.
Traditionally, these dances are held in late July to August. I guess a pre-harvest/fertility ritual. Half the dances were about chasing skirt. One of the guys managed to steal a kiss from one of the girls and, while they were dancing, the rest of the boy were trying not to smirk.
The show ends and the dancers tried to get the audience up on stage. Announcements of thanks were in French. I definitely heard “merci beaucoup.”
It sucks that the batteries of my digital camera went dead near the beginning of the show. I miss SLR's.
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