Friday, June 26, 2009
Apache Avenue Meets the World
I grew up in Rexburg, Idaho. Ninety-plus percent of the population are Mormons, and all my peers adhered to the same ethics code of spazzing off in lieu of drugs, and keeping the few beer-drinkers at the edge of town in the tavern aptly named "The Hideaway".
It was a sort of of homogeneous childhood that was safe, clean, and pervasive. It was understood by all, and built a sense of camaraderie with neighbors, school-mates, and peers. And it was a bubble.
That bubble was first poked when I realized that the swimming suit my mom had bought me from K-Mart, was light years forward in fashion than the publically issued swimwear from Ricks College. This was the pool I first learned to swim, and no one was stepping in that pool unless they donned the required wet-wear from the church-owned Ricks College (now BYU-Idaho). It looked something like this:
The swiming cap was issued with the suit. The swimwear cringed at the 80's french-cut phenomena and sliced straight across the fattest part of your thighs. One of the pool rules was NO PUBLIC DISPLAYS OF AFFECTION. So that woman, with her hand on her hip and eyeballing the stud creeping out of the pool? Well, I'm now the lifeguard and she is a red-flag potential threat. Keep it clean!
The swimming suits were just the beginning of strict apparel requirements to study (or workout) at this private religious college. The gym was packed with modestly dressed people, all wearing Viking Blue! in shorts hitting the knees and never-sleeveless-t-shirts. It was the safehaven for soft-bodied folks wanting to avoid hard-abbed overtanned athletes in cutoffs strutting their stuff between protein drinks.
And yet, it wasn't trying to configure an elitist group of fully covered saints trapped three decades back. The school (and it's sponsoring church) were outreaching, globally minded, and adventurous. Emissaries in the name of ballroom dancers were sent throughout the world to represent what good, clean, and faith-filled young people were like from the U.S.ofA.
And so it was that some of the world came back to me in Rexburg, Idaho, when, at the age of eleven, Rexburg hosted it's first ever International Dance Festival. My homogeneous childhood popped it's bubble a second time.
Who knew that our vast planet could cultivate so many different beautiful cultures? And so diverse! The willowy grace of the Japanese team, followed by the robust athleticism of the Russian team, the festive cadence of the Swiss team with Heidi-like costumes of apron coverlets and ribboned braids. Dancers from every continent were strutting their stuff down Rexburg's Main Street, and my little world suddenly became smaller, and bigger at the same time. Tickets sold out to fill up The College's basketball auditorium where the dance teams each had their moment to steal the stage.
After sampling all the cultures through dance at that young age, I couldn't help but become aware of my own heritage. I am American! I thought. How will the U.S. team represent me? Will they have the sultry grace of the Indian Team? The strength of the Russian Team? The carnival colors of the Mexican Team?
I'm not sure why I didn't see it coming. I mean, come on! I even took clogging lessons every week when I was eleven. But I have to admit, I was a little disappointed when the American Team came out brash, double-down-rock-stepping with flexed foot, permed hair, and overabundant yee-haws.
But it remained a celebration nonetheless. With smalltown Rexburg requiring Ricks College facilities to host the event, there was bound to be cultural clashes. Like the time a group of dancers from Europe decided to workout sans Viking Blue! knee-length shorts. I'm not sure if they were given a free pass for the sake of being a good host, but it soon turned scandalous when Ricks College staff (i.e. my dad among others) discovered them working up a sweat....in the buff.
Through gritted teeth?...a hearty laugh?....they were invited back. The Rexburg International Dance Festival is now going 23 years strong.
Enjoy the 2009 party from August 1st to the 8th in good ole Rexburg, Idaho.
Scheduling info can be found here.
Labels: Apache Avenue Memories
Comments
Cresta June 26, 2009
p.s. the picture of the cloggers you have there is my sister-in-law and her husband (they now run a studio in Orem and teach
Lee Family June 26, 2009
I think one year the dancers from America did an Indian dance? Would you rather have cloggers or Indians?
Hey, didn't you still clog at Ricks College? don't pretend like you only
LGH June 27, 2009
Candice June 27, 2009
I love the Folk Dance Festival. We hosted the Turkish dancers. It was an amazing experience.
It was a powerful medium
paula June 28, 2009
Anonymous June 29, 2009
And, Niki--totally the cloggers over the Indian dancers. Sorry, that's just the way it is.
Now you need to post a picture of YOU clogging, Ambos.
Mrs. Olsen June 29, 2009
Niki, I desperately wanted to clog on the team that toured all over Europe. But sadly, I only made the leftover team of all girls. I had to clog while holding hands with another girl for crying
Anonymous June 30, 2009
sophia July 4, 2009
sophia July 4, 2009
Mrs. Olsen July 5, 2009
Sop, thanks for the douche comment. Totally made me laugh. Those naughty little french dancers;)
Jeff July 7, 2009
Two Int'l Dance Festival memories:
#1--I remember going to Heise for probably the first time, and seeing a dancer in a bikini, and then she raised her arm and showed off her pits, just to prove she was from Europe. Fascinating! (It broadened my horizons).
#2--On my mission, we were at a grocery store in small-town Denmark, and the cashier asked, in