A Very Very Brief History of Belly Dance by Sausan

Beyond The Bagdad

Sausan and Jad Elias

When, one evening in 1980, I opened the front door to a small, dark nightclub on Broadway Street in San Francisco known as The Bagdad, I unknowingly stepped onto a flying carpet and entered into a magical way of life. At first, the stained carpet and dank and dingy smell-of-stale-smoke room seemed unpleasant but it was only for a brief moment. It took just a nanosecond to know that this dank and dingy second-hand smoke-smell wore the telltale signs of fun and energy-filled nights' song and dance aftermath, and I was eager to dive...er....dance right on into it.

Not many people know this, but under the dressing room tucked away in the back of the nightclub was an operational kitchen. A stove, asink with sprayer, a dishwasher...it was small, but it was there. Why wasn't Jad using it?

Jad asked me once, "What do you think this place needs?" I thought about the kitchen sitting empty and bare at the back of his place and said, "There's a kitchen right there!" I said, pointing. "What about some appetizers or something? " "You mean like humos? I'll think about it." was Jad's reply. Nothing ever came of our short conversation. But, it didn't really matter. I was dancing for my life. Those nights at The Bagdad set me wild and free. Dancing to the live tunes of Middle Eastern musicians behind me nourished my soul and filled my heart. Anyone, I thought, who was a serious belly dance student and who wasn't dancing at The Bagdad -- or any other nightclub like it -- was just, well, simply just plain dumb (no offense to anyone).

So, it wasn't the money that had enticed me to go there on every occasion after that night. Twenty-dollars for three shows, even in the 80's, was pittance; it was the place and the opportunity to dance to live music. It was the rainbow and the pot at the end of that rainbow, all rolled into one that kept me going.


Sausan in a back bend!

Those years of dancing at The Bagdad were priceless. Almost every night I eagerly headed toward that magical place on Broadway and danced my heart away to the music of the Middle East from 9PM to 1:30AM. It was better than drugs. It was my drug. And, oh, what a drug it was! I couldn't get enough of it.

The musicians I met, and have kept as friends until now, engulfed me with the exotic music of the Middle East, and I danced to it night after night. Owner, Jad Elias, played Oud, hired the dancers, and kept the place going strong until its doors closed in 1984.

The Bagdad is now closed -- a beautiful memory of a magical time and place to many dancers, and an amazing little nightclub that took many of us out of daily reality. But its closure wasn't the end of dance or of me. It was only the beginning.

I opened Al-Masri in San Francisco in 1999. So fierce were my memories of and the longing for the magic and excitement of The Bagdad and what it had done for me that I wanted to continue it's dance and music legacy in my own place, with the same type offerings to up and coming dancers.

The Bagdad may have closed it's doors, but it really didn't go anywhere. It just moved up the street to another part of the San Francisco Bay Area. This places were called The Petra, The Grapeleaf, Amira's, Pasha, Arabian Nights, and others. And, as these musicians and dancers became my friends, we all were headed in the same direction and danced in the same circles and places after the closure. We, unknowingly, yet altogether, continue to create the magic for our dance.


Sausan with Al-Azifoon

The best thing any dance student can do for herself is to continue to challenge her dance knowledge with her performance to the tunes of live music, new each and every time regardless. It's completely different from dancing to prerecorded music. Prerecorded music is predictable, memorizable, maybe even boring. Live music is exciting, challenging, instantaneous. To dance to live music is to learn nuances, work with individual techniques, and bond with musicians and other dancers overall.

Do this for yourself. Like the Bagdad, Al-Masri is today's magical place, transporting everyone who enters its doors to a magical place outside the boundaries and predicable rituals of everyday reality. Create a night for yourself and indulge in the excitement of live music and exotic atmosphere.

Years from now, like me, you'll be able to tell your own story of your own magic that only happens when like-minded people like yourself get together and contribute to a creation. It's a very personal experience, and an amazingly wonderful feeling. You may even become hooked. Perhaps, you'll even open a place of your own and offer the same magic to the newbies of the next dance generation. Just don't miss out on your own!!


Valentina with Musa Hanhan and Imad "Ed" Mizyed

If you are an aspiring dancer wanting to take that extra step toward bettering your knowledge in this dance, you must sign up to dance to live music. It's the best thing you can do for yourself. In doing so, you become connected to the culture, the music, the language, the musicians, the players, the country, the dance, and most importantly, yourself and your self-esteem.Once you are signed up, though, don't stop there. The the next step toward perfection and contact all of your friends, co-workers, family, acquaintances, contacts -- everyone. It not only helps you to established yourself as a force to be reckoned with, but it supports the venue and the person who hires the musicians to play. It's a win-win situation! To schedule, contact Sausan:
415-876-2300; 415-867-6754
sausanacademy@gmail.com



Tahneen
Hussain Resan, Marti Coyne, Liz Stuart, 

Michael Fair, Linda Grondahl


Arabian Passion: Imad "Ed" Mizyed, Khahdar Keileh,
Nazir Latouf, Reda Darwish


Caravan Band - Last Sunday
Amina Goodyear, Younes, Makboul, Jelal Takesh, Susu Pampanin


Linda Grondahl with Pangia Band


Mimi Spencer, Marti Coyne, Mary Ellen Donald, Linda Grondahl

His Do-ness

Not everyone knows this, but my very good friend Don K has a nickname.  It's "Do"

Don and me, circa 2000

It was given to him by my late partner, Hatem, who used to repeat his nickname whenever Don happen to declare an idea or slogan that on the onset seemed really over the top.  ".....Do ....Do ....Do...."  So contagious was this nickname to people who heard it that many of them who still know him still call him Do.  Me?  I like to call him Don.

Don takes me out to lunch at least once or twice a month.  We meet at a designated location, and then he suggests a place and we go there.  I was busy all week, but on Thursday, Don called and asked whether I had time to have lunch.  Of course, I said yes.  We agreed to meet at the corner of Haight and Clayton at noon.

Around 11:00 A.M. I decided to kill two birds with one stone and go first to Ace Hardware and Plumbing on Geary Street to pick up a part I needed for my restaurant sink sprayer.  Besides, the sun was out; and after a long and wet storm, I was glad to go out.

For some unknown reason, except to say that I wanted to take it slow and easy and enjoy the beautiful day, I chose to drive down Cabrillo Street, a quiet residential street that runs parallel to Geary Street about four blocks south.  There was literally no one in sight, and only other cars on the street at that time were the ones that were parked by the curbs.

About twenty blocks into the drive, around Twenty-seventh Avenue, I noticed something lying in the gutter.  I looked again, and saw a gray and black backpack halfway on the sidewalk and  halfway in the flooded gutter.  In an instant I thought, "I need a backpack.  I could use this backpack."  Remarkably, where the backpack was lying was right next to the only available parking place on the block.  I thought, "This was meant to be!"

I pulled into the parking space having just felt like I won the lotto and parked my car.  How cool to find a backpack in the middle of the curbside!  It's a small item, but I needed one!  I was in seventh heaven.

Mindlessly, I bent down and lifted the soaking backpack upright.  It felt heavy.  There was something inside of it.  I opened it up and saw a pair of running shoes.  My mind was now racing -- how cool!  The backpack came with running shoes that looked to be my size!  What a double score!  I then noticed that next to the backpack was a windbreaker much the same color as the backpack.  Neat-O!  A backpack, a pair of running shoes, and a windbreaker!  This was getting even better!  Curiously, I lifted the soaking windbreaker up to see if it were my size and out tumbled a wallet!  Wow!

What I had imagined was the score of the century with a new (used) backpack, a pair of running shoes, and a nice windbreaker was fast becoming a story that I've seen happen many times in the parking area of the Cliff House at Point Lobos.  My heart sank into my stomach as I reached for the wallet.  Someone, I was thinking, got her backpack stolen.  Someone, I was thinking, had broken into a car, snatched the prized solution to a quick fix , drove off, taken what they wanted out of it, and then ditched the quick fix shell and all of its useless contents by the roadside.  My heart was breaking.

I placed all of the items in the back of my car, except for the wallet, which I put on the front passenger seat and sat in front of the steering wheel thinking about my next move.  It had all been too much!  Too overwhelmed with what just happened, I decided to think about my next move on my way to the hardware store.  I've always felt intensely nervous at going through other peoples belongings, and even now in the midst of this catastrophe I was unable to go through this very private wallet.  But I knew I had to do something.  Someone had just been robbed, and I had their very precious items in my car.

I found parking right away on Geary Street in front of the hardware store.  I carefully picked up the soaking wallet that had been sitting right next to me screaming to be looked at, and opened it.  My mind was exploding.  Credit cards, airline ticket stubs, a driver's license...it was a lot to digest.

Nothing is worse than being robbed of your most private and cherished possessions.  And they are ALL private and cherished possessions.

Looking through the wallet, I tried to find something that had a phone number on it.  One of the cards that was lodged in one of the slots that housed the credit cards gave me the first clue.  This person was a faculty member of an out-of-state university.  I located the university on my cell phone, went to the faculty page, and called the number associated with the member.  Of course, a message came through telling all that there was no getting this person until the end of a vacation period except in the case of an emergency where the number "0" would get someone to handle the emergency.  I pressed "0"; this was an emergency.

I explained what had happened to this emergency person and how I had come upon this abandoned backpack with all of its contents.  Right away, she told me how the owner of this backpack had just called her not minutes before my call, and had told her that she had just been robbed.  I gave her my phone number, hung up, and waited for the next call.  It came in an instant.

Joy and jubilation poured out at the other end of the call.  Where did I find the bag?  What was in it?  I told her everything.  She was elated.  Just less than thirty minutes had elapsed since her car had been broken into at the Legion of Honor and my call to the university.  But the most endearing question was, "Is there a journal in the backpack?  My daughter has a journal.  She's crying because the journal was in the backpack.  Can you please see if there is a journal in that backpack?"

No daughter keeps a journal except the daughter who is growing up and noticing beauty and love around her.  I figured she must be around 12 to 13 years old.  Daughters of this age write important stuff in journals along with the emotions attached to this stuff, the wishes, and the hopes and dreams surrounding the experience of this stuff.  Some of these entries can be quite private.  I know.  I still have my own journal.  I told her to hang on.  I searched the backpack, looking in every compartment, and telling her of every move I was now doing.  There was a pair of running shoes, some granola bars, a roll of Mentos, some more candy bars, but hold on, I'm not done yet.  "My daughter is crying.  We just need to know if the journal is in there.  She's been crying ever since we found out the bag had been stolen."  I opened the last compartment and reached down to the bottom.  There is was, the prized journal, in tact, dry, and unharmed.  "It's here!!  It's here!!"  I said.

The rest of our short and excited conversation was about the story and the sound of relief and gratitude.  We agreed to meet at the corner of Haight and Clayton since I was going there anyway.  I finished my business with the hardware store, got back into my car and drove off.

As I headed to our prearranged destination, I decided in the interim that I would drive passed the spot where I found the backpack, just in case there were something I missed.  In all of my excitement, I turned onto Cabrillo Street and suddenly discovered that I had turned onto the lane for incoming traffic, opposite of the lane I was supposed to have turned into!  Not only that, but right in front of the car where I was now driving next to up the road was a police car!  A close call, and thinking fast, I slowed down and cautiously swerved into the correct lane.  What was I thinking????

I managed to get to my destination at Haight and Clayton with no further mishaps and parked my car.  I grabbed the backpack with all of the precious contents and headed toward our rendezvous point.  The sidewalk corners appeared to be empty and I looked around.  Suddenly, I saw someone waving across the street.  "There's my backpack!"

Nothing feels better than to make another person's day.  It's more than a win-win situation and I felt all giddy inside as I handed over the backpack.  The young girl who had lost her journal looked at me with swollen eyes.  If there had been any money in that wallet, I thought, it was worth losing for the safe retrieval of that journal and a hugely happy beautiful smile.  Everything that had been taken from these innocent out-of-town vacationers, doing nothing more than enjoying a sunny day in our beautiful city of San Francisco, had just been returned in less than one hour of experiencing grief and anxiety over the loss of personal and financial information.  It could have been devastatingly worse in more ways than imaginable.  One of these credit cards lodged in the found wallet had not yet been activated and the sticker was still attached.  That, and the driver's license...well, one can only imagine.

Hugs and thankyous followed and then it was over.  I turned and headed down the sidewalk to find my friend Don.

After a few minutes I met up with Don, eager to tell him of my adventure.  Before I could say anything, he said, "Would you like to eat here," and pointed to a small eatery, "or would you like to eat at The Hippy Thai place?"  Without thinking, I said, "The Hippy Thai place."

Now, you may be wondering, how does this all relate to His Do-ness???

Don and me, February 12, 2017

Don is a beautiful and unusual fellow.  His one-liners are thought-provoking as well as mind-blowing.  One one-liner I keep remembering is one that he came up with -- "If you see yourself beside the point, move the f**king point."  How simple is that???

So, it was because of His Do-ness that led me on this amazing adventure, that got me to stumble upon a stolen backpack.  Don had asked me to have lunch with him on that Thursday, and I had started off toward that lunch date with a side trip down Cabrillo Street where I had stumbled upon this backpack.  Then, later, as I headed back toward Cabrillo Street, I had turned into the opposite lane into the oncoming traffic but had been spared a possible crash.  A police car had been in the opposite lane alerting me to my mistake.  Yet, this, in and of itself, was also a telling tale.  The traffic rules in Thailand are opposite the ones here in the United States.  They drive on the left side of the street, and I had turned into that left side of the street heading back up Cabrillo.  And then there was our lunch date which took place at the Hippy Thai restaurant.  I know....  You're still a little confused....


Aftermath:

Money is not the root to all happiness, but it is a means to an end; and certainly, with enough of it, brings peace of mind.  While sitting and having lunch with His Do-ness, I received a text from the backpack owner.  "Thank you so much once again.  My daughter's journal was so precious to her.  It stinks to lose my cash but all in all life is good.  We really appreciate your kindness!"  I wrote back:  "Cash can be replaced.  It's only a piece of paper with a small amount of cotton in it and has no value in and of itself.  The only thing you can do with it is to 'give' it away.  Most important are your experiences.  I'm glad your daughter got back her experiences.  Best to you.  Hope to see you sometime again in the future."

As I got back into my car after lunch, I realized that the knitted hat that I had picked up with the backpack was still in the back of my car.  I texted:  "Lol...got back into my car and saw the knitted hat.  Let, me know if you want it.  I can send it or whatever you want."  The response:  "Oh wow, the gift that keeps on giving.  :-)  My cousin and her daughter will be out in the City tomorrow, maybe their path will cross with you.  I will stay in touch.  Thanks!"

It wasn't until the following Sunday that someone came to pick up the hat.  "I can't believe we got everything back!  And not even a half hour from the time someone broke into our car!"  I saw the broken back window.  "How much money was taken, if you don't mind my asking," I asked gingerly.  "It was only $150."  She said.  "That's NOTHING!"  I stated emphatically, thinking that that's a dinner for four in most restaurants.  But for a university faculty member, it might have been different -- until now.

Don is a very magical person.  And this account just proves that one more time.  Had I not had a lunch date with His Do-ness, I would have, instead, taken the usual Geary Boulevard route to the hardware store to get the part.  I would not have stumbled upon the backpack and all might have been lost.  But because of His Do-ness's magical energy, my trip took a different route, gave back the precious connectivity to the lives to innocent people, and in the interim hinted to me what kind of restaurant we would be lunching in.  At six degrees to separation, His Do-ness brought this theory of separation to the First Degree and I was gifted with meeting a beautiful and loving family.

I still can't find myself calling my friend Don with his nickname Do.  But that doesn't change the fact that His Do-ness is a magical person as he has always been to me, and a great friend at that, always having been there through the best and worst of times.  Though he will always be Don to me, his Do-ness still is and will always be the "Do".

Heck, it was because of the Do and His Do-ness that prompted me to write this blog about the Do-ness and the Do-ingly adventure.  And how cool is that???  :-)

And no doubt, a young girl, who has been reunited with her journal, is writing the amazing stuff about the same kind of adventure....

....and it just might be the next best seller!!

Epilogue.......

I received this card last week with a gift of caramels wrapped in a really nice cloth.  Thank you.  I'm just glad everything I found in the gutter got back to its proper home.  :-)

Tasting Halal

Owning a restaurant is truly an experience in of itself.  Just when I think I’ve heard it all, someone calls and explodes my brain again.

So here is the conversation:

Friday night about 6:30pm.  Phone rings.  Caller ID says anonymous.  I answer.

“Hello, Al-Masri Egyptian Restaurant.  May I help you?”

“May I speak to the manager?” asks an agitated male voice on the other end.

“Who is calling,” I answer, “what’s your company name and the purpose of your call?”

I’m always cautious when it comes to people calling to ask to speak to the owner or the manager.  I figure that if the caller had done his homework, like visited to my website or dined my restaurant, he’d know who the owner was or at least know the name of the owner.  So right off the bat, I knew there was something fishy about this call.  Fishy further because there is no manager.  It’s just me and my waitstaff.

“I just want to speak to the manager.”

Again, as politely as I can, I put forth the questions of who is calling, what’s your company name, and the purpose of the call.

“You’re very rude!” is the reply.

Rude?  How was I being rude?  I had just answered the phone very politely and identified my business.  Now, I was asking for information that, when I was growing up, was standard practice of responding after the pick-up of the receiver on the other end......’hi, my name is blah blah blah, and I’m calling from blah blah blah (if there were a business involved), and I’d like to speak to the person in charge because blah blah blah....

Instead, “Why do I have to answer your questions?  I just want to speak to the manager.”

All aside, I take a stab at my intuition and ask, “Are you calling with a complaint?”

“Yes, I have a complaint.”

“What is your complaint?”  I ask, and then say, “I’m the owner.”

“Well, you don’t sound like the owner.  I think you’re just saying that.”

My eyebrows rise.  “Yes, I’m the owner, what is your complaint?”

“Well, I don’t believe you.  But, okay, I had dinner at your restaurant last night and ate the meat.”

“Okay......” I say slowly.

“It didn’t taste Halal.”

Huh?  It didn’t taste Halal???  For those of you who don’t know what Halal means, it means denoting or relating to meat prepared as prescribed by Muslim law.  The Jewish religion refers to their food preparation as Kosher.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” I respond with as much composure as I can muster, “I do my meat shopping at Restaurant Depot and I buy the meat there that is stamped Halal.”

“Well, it didn’t taste Halal,” he again said.

All this time, I’m thinking, ‘What does Halal tasting meat taste like?’  I mean, even my Islamic friends confess that there is no difference in taste.

“Well, I’m sorry.  I don’t know what to say.” I reiterate, “I get my meat from Restaurant Depot in San Francisco, and I buy only the meat that is packaged with the word Halal printed on the package.  I’m sure that Restaurant Depot is properly conforming to packaging rules and requirements legally.”

Then I ask him, “What does Halal meat taste like?”  I was curious.  I've never been able to taste any difference.

He answers, “I had your salad and that was really great.  And I also had one of your soft drinks called Jack Daniels.  That tasted really good.  But the meat did not taste Halal.”

So, now I’m in a real dilemma.  I’m thinking, the meat doesn’t taste Halal and the Jack Daniels soft drink was really tasty!  If this fellow wants his meat to be prepared by Islamic law, then what does he know about drinking Jack Daniels?  And, does Jack Daniels actually offer a nonalcoholic drink?  I didn’t think so....  I'm also thinking, someone took this fellow to a Middle Eastern restaurant and somehow unknowingly ended up with a Jack and coke....  This was amusing!  No wonder it tasted good!

“Jack Daniels soft drink?” I ask him.  “Jack Daniels is hard alcohol.  There is no soft drink made by or called Jack Daniels.  Are you sure you had a soft drink called Jack Daniels?”

“Well is was like a Jack Daniels.  Anyway, it tasted good.”

“I don’t serve Jack Daniels in my restaurant.  I don’t have a liquor license.  I have only a beer and wine license.”  

“Well it was a soft drink with the name Jack Daniels.”  Now, I'm thinking that what he drank was a Jack and coke on the rocks and probably thought it was just a Coka-Cola.  I'm sustaining some chuckles.  Someone had played this fellow!  Of course the Jack Daniels tasted good!  it was probably his first.  

This conversation was fast becoming quite amusing!  Laughing softly under my breath, I realized I was starting to have a fun with this devout Muslim fellow whose preference was to Jack and coke rather than the meat dish he had eaten, when it hit me like a thunderbolt right between the eyes!

“Did you say you had dinner at my restaurant yesterday?”  I asked.

“Yes!” he said emphatically.  “And the meat did not taste Halal!!”, as if he was waiting for me to do something about it.

“Well, that’s really funny,” I respond, “because I was closed yesterday.  I don’t open my restaurant on Thursdays any more.  I’ve been closed on Thursdays for over a year!”

Silence...then click. 

Must-Know Music for the Performing Belly Dancer

When I started belly dancing back in the early 1970s, I had no idea about a long list of music I was supposed to or would need to know.  I just thought that belly dancing would be all I would have to do!  Little did I know the complexity of this dance -- and the music.  Who knew that there was a long history behind what I had just step into?

It's important to know the music you dance to if you want to complete your studies as a belly dancer.  It's also equally important to know who wrote it, who wrote the lyrics, what the lyrics say and mean, who sang it, and if applicable, who it was written for and who originally danced to it.  And I'm not talking about the modern stuff.   I'm talking about all the classic stuff -- the music of the Golden Age of Egypt.

In 1999, I installed Dish on my roof, ordered the Arabic channels, and tuned into LBC -- Lebanese Broadcasting Corporation.  For the next 15 years, I sat glued to the tube and watched movie after Egyptian movie, learned about the actors, identified the musicians, and studied the dancers.  I even went as far as to record about 500 of these classic Egyptian movies.  I've since replaced Dish with Youtube and continue to enjoy many of these movies over and over when I get the time.

Fast forward....  

I have compiled a list of "must-know music for dance", offering a one-hour class on each piece along with a CD of different renditions of the piece, the names of the composer, lyricist, translation, singer, and some history.  I have entitled my series "Must-Know Music for Dance Series".  

Below are the fliers of the music on the list.  Series 4 just started!!!  Drop-ins welcome!!!  And I'll be repeating this course series again and again.

Disclaimer:  This course is continually edited and updated.  

Stop in and check it out!!

www.sausanacademy.com

sausanacademy@gmail.com

415-867-6754

The Deal on Sunday Nights at Al-Masri Egyptian Restaurant in San Francisco

Running a restaurant is no easy task.  It takes real guts and a strong solid character, both of which I've had to develop; especially when the ethnicity of that restaurant doesn't even belong to my ethnic background!  It also takes...to say the least...a lot of luck and a whole bunch of perseverance.

It's easy for me to say that one of the biggest joys I've ever experienced is that of someone telling me how delicious the food is that I cook, especially when it's out of the mouth of an Arab.  When I hear that, I'm on Cloud Nine, and I know I've accomplished something.  And, I'm very proud to say that I am told that almost every time.  Which goes without saying that it's even harder for me to take criticism, especially when it's given by people who don't even know what they are talking about.  I mean, take mulukhiya, for instance….

Growing up in Spain and Thailand, I never dreamed I would be running, much less owning a restaurant of any kind, and in one of the restaurant capitals of the world, San Francisco -- the City who made Rice-a-roni a San Francisco treat.  Sure, we all know it's a San Francisco treat, but, realistically, where do you think the idea for Rice-a-roni came from?  According to the people who love to criticize my rice pilaf, made specifically the Egyptian way -- the way it has been made, like, since forever -- I'm cooking up the San Francisco treat and passing it off as Egyptian!

Fear and anxiety can get the better of you, and it has gotten the better of me -- more than once; heck more than a dozen times; I'll be honest, almost every day.  All I knew before was how to take dictation at 140 wpm and type letters at 90 wpm for a corporation with benefits and a monthly check.  But once I learned how to master the necessary processes dictated by the City, State, and Federal government Small Business requirements, the long haul of owning a restaurant took on a different meaning.  Problem is that, by that time, I had spent so much time, money, and sleepless nights, in all that trial and error, start-up reality, and retraining policy, that by the time I became somewhat knowledgeable about what needed to be done or have happen, I wistfully found myself in what my mother used to say, "up a creek without a paddle.", only it wasn't just a creek.

Don't get me wrong.  I love my little restaurant, and I wouldn't change what I have for the world.  My paycheck may not come as a corporate monthly deposit into my bank account, but it works for me; and, more importantly, I'm my own boss.  All the rest is now small stuff.

But being the boss also takes on an altogether different reality.  All my former bosses in the corporate world were either somewhat of a bit of a tyrant, a suck-up, a yes man, or a mealy mouse, so I never really had a solid role model in how to emulate what a boss should be.  That, too, has been a learning process; and that, too, has come at a cost.

I've learned that it's really all about confidence and how one treats people, but it's not all that simple.  Learning how to "boss" takes a lot of training, and it all comes from experience.

Seven years ago, I re-introduced live music to Al-Masri Egyptian Restaurant on Sunday nights, and since have made it mainstream on almost every Sunday night.  Along with live music, I provide an all-you-can-enjoy buffet dinner, which includes an appetizer with bread, salad, rice pilaf, about six to eight entrees, and around two vegetables, as well as dessert.  Providing the food is not all that expensive, but it's also no easy task; I shop and cook all day.  Additionally, offering live music on those nights by some of the best in the business can really raise the expenses to my overhead.  

So, to keep these Sunday nights going, I take the regular nightly menu away and do something different.  For only $25, one can come in, dine leisurely, fill his/her plate up as much and as many times as he/she wants, provided there is no unnecessary uneaten food waste, and watch some of the best dancers dance and listen to some of the best musicians play.  Heck, the movie theater down the street from Al-Masri charges $10 for ONE two-hour movie, including popcorn and a drink.  But is it LIVE?  And it's popcorn and ONE non-alcoholic drink!

So, I guess by now you're wondering, what's my point??

On several occasions during these Sunday nights, some people have come in to see the show at Al-Masri.  They are told at the onset and upon entering the front door that the offering for the evening is an all-you-can-enjoy buffet dinner along with live music and six to twelve different belly dancers, which they can sit and watch while eating for the entire six hours (we open at 5:30pm and the show ends around 11:30pm) for only $25.  That's a far cry from a two-hour movie, popcorn, and one non-alcoholic drink.  However, once they hear that they have to buy dinner at $25 or pay a $20 cover charge to stay and watch the show and enjoy the live music -- which I've hired for them to enjoy -- it becomes apparently as horrifying as highway robbery!

So, I guess I'm a little confused.  Apparently, movie goers won't question paying $10 to see a two-hour movie and get a cup of popcorn and one non-alcoholic drink. But those same people will visibly convulse uncontrollably at paying a $20 cover charge for an endless glass of lemon-flavored water -- a lot more drink than one drink at any movie theater -- and six hours of live music and belly dance entertainment!  I say, splurge!  Pay that extra $5 and have dinner all night long!  That cup of popcorn isn't going to last through the entire two-hour movie, and the second one will probably cost you five bucks!

Bottom line, like the movie theater down the street, I have overhead as does every business in this country.  I love seeing my dining room filled to the max, and I know that the max loves participating in these fun-filled Sunday nights of live entertainment.  Movie goers don't just walk into the theater and expect to watch the movie for free, do they?  Then why do some people walk into my restaurant and think they can sit at one of my tables and watch the show for free?  No other business tolerates that. 

So, let me take a moment at this time to thank all of you who unhesitatingly and very happily forked over $25 for the all-you-can-enjoy dinner buffet, and who also enjoyed live music, belly dancing, and, frankly, a fun-filled evening of live entertainment; for without you, my Sunday nights would have closed long ago.  

I fully support the movie theater down the street, and encourage everyone to go and watch a two-hour movie of their choice when it comes to town with popcorn and a non-alcoholic drink at least once for $10.  But know that, while you're waiting for the next blockbuster to arrive, $25 will get you into Al-Masri for a different show every single time you come, freshly made Egyptian food, and at least six hours of live entertainment, which, by the way, unlike inside any movie theater, you are fully welcome to participate in.  But if you've already been to the movies and are too full with popcorn and the one beverage to partake in the all-you-can-enjoy dinner buffet, expect to pay a $20 cover charge to have the special privilege of sitting at one of my tables inside the ONLY Egyptian restaurant in Northern California, and enjoy the live cultural entertainment and an endless glass of lemon-flavored water.  You're even welcome, in fact, encouraged to participate in it if you want.

Hope to see you at the next Sunday night all-you-can-enjoy dinner buffet and live entertainment, even if you've already been to the movies down the street at the local movie theater.

Videos on the Egyptian Dance Code® (EDC®)

 Hi, Everyone....

I've made and uploaded some videos about the Egyptian Dance Code®.  These are short trailers to my complete instructional videos, which are in the works.  My phone number has been changed.  The new number is 415-867-6754.  The one listed in the videos (415-262-0175) no longer works.

1.  A short video about my Bio and the Discovery of the Egyptian Dance Code® (EDC®).

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2.  A short video about the Five Major Differences in the Sausan Academy of Egyptian Dance class curriculum with regards to the Egyptian Dance Code® (EDC®) as compared to other belly dance schools.

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3.  A short video about the One-Year, Four 12-Week Program in Classic Egyptian Style (CES) Belly Dance and what you will learn from it and the rewards gained as a result of that.

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4.  A short video Identifying, Describing, and Demonstrating the Egyptian Dance Code®.

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More videos to come....

Pow Wing Chung!

Rock-Paper-Scissors.  It's a hand game two people play for the same outcome similar to coin flipping, drawing straws, or throwing dice.

When I was growing up in Bangkok, Thailand back in the 1960s, my first experience with what I later learned was Rock-Paper-Scissors was in the first school I ever attended called, at that time, Holy Redeemer School located off of Soi Ruam Rudee which was then a small extension off of Wireless Road or Thanon Witthayu.  Holy Redeemer School, now called Ruamrudee International School, was then a Catholic school which accepted English-speaking as well as Thai-speaking students.  The English speaking students had a separate area for learning from the Thais.  But when it came to physical education and games, and recess and lunch periods, we were all basically thrown together.  And being kids, we all got a long.

Being now part of the Thai culture and being as young as I was, I naturally learned the ways of the Thais, and eventually picked up some Thai expressions.  One of these expressions came in the form of preliminary choosing of sides in certain games at school or with the neighborhood Thai kids.  If there were more than two people in a game that needed side choosing, we all gathered around in a circle -- three or more of us Thai and English-speaking alike, and facing each other, would place our right hand inside the circle along with the hands of everyone else participating.  We'd then begin frantically waving them back and forth all chanting, "TEE Toe Pah TOO KAI Shy Auk!"  At the moment the word "Auk" was uttered our hands would either turned down or turn up.  This was how we chose sides. 

If there were only two of us, we'd play the Rock-Paper-Scissors game; only, we didn't call out "Rock, Paper, Scissors", we called out "Pow Wing CHUNG!"  Chung would be the word that would bring our choice of hand gestures out in the form of the tight fist, the two pointed fingers, or the entire outstretched palm, which, of course, look like a rock, a pair of scissors, or a piece of paper. 

My sister, Mary, and I grew up together in this culture, and for the first four years of my schooling at the Holy Redeemer School, we immersed ourselves in the Thai ways.  And for these first four years at the school, I played these two Thai side choosing games.  It was the most natural thing to do along with playing with the Thai neighborhood kids.

In 1964, I was pulled out of Holy Redeemer School and was placed in the International School of Bangkok, then located on 36 Sukumvit Soi 15.  This International School of Bangkok, or ISB, catered primarily to English speaking students, mostly American.  Thai citizens were not eligible to register at ISB.  Suddenly, there was no more Pow Wing Chung or Tee Toe Pah Too Kai Shy Auk. I felt like something had been taken away from me.  But I also felt like I had somehow come home.  This would become my first real indoctrination into the American culture in a foreign country. 

I learned fast to stop these expressions at this school.  Kids can be cruel.  But they have stayed with me until today.

When I see someone calling, "Rock, Paper Scissors", I still hear "Pow Wing Chung!"

Scaraboo

Scarabs.  Rhymes with Arabs.  But back in 1960 little did I know that this little beetle would turn out to be the icon of my passion.

In 1960, when we moved to Bangkok, Thailand from Madrid, Spain, the world seemed to offer abundance of excitement.  I nestled into this culture as if it were my own.  I was just starting to come alive in my own consciousness as I marveled at life around me. 

One of the things that my family would do was to go to the local Weekend Flea Market out in the middle of Bangkok proper.  It was an open air flea market that covered an entire football or larger size park.  At that age, everything seemed gigantic.  Some parts of that flea market were covered in tents, others were simply covered with the overhanging branches of large trees.  There, I remember strolling around hand-in-hand with my parents taking in all the smells of the live caged animals, the chatter of a foreign language, and the aromas of grilled outdoor food. 

The first time I saw the iridescent green and blue shiny wings of the Thai Jewel Beetle was at one of these rare outings at the Weekend Flea Market.  I was drawn to the allure of these moving jewels as they crawled about all over each other in a large box.  The man in charge of this box reached down and picked one up.  With the other hand, he took a black string and tied it around the large bug between its thorax and abdomen and then let the bug go.  As he let go this fascinating large shiny moving bead, it spread its wings and began flying around, still attached to the string in which this man held in his hand.  The man grinned at us with a toothless grin.  That day, my father bought each one of us a Thai Jewel Beetle.  It was on that day that I began a life-long romance with the beetle.

By the time I was ten, I had accumulated about a dozen of these beauties which I housed in a large fish tank.  I cared for them deeply and hiked about a quarter of a mile from our house on Soi Sawadii (Soi 31) across a large field to gather the small leaves from a remote bush that were the diet of these flying emeralds.  And then I would hike back carrying the leafy food for my lovely bugs.

Back at home, I would then take each beetle in hand, put the leaf in front of them, and watch as they chomped away at the leaf.  It was fascinating -- beetle in one hand and leaf in another hand.  Most kids have dogs or cats -- and I did too, but these flying shiny iridescent gems were different.  These flying shiny iridescent gems were beautiful.  But even back then, as I now recall my adoration of these Thai Jewel Beetles, I couldn't really understand then -- or now -- why I was so drawn to them.  After all, these were bugs, not warm furry animals.

In 1965, we moved to Soi Seang Mukda (Soi 43), and it was before the move that I decided to let these beauties go free.  I gathered up each beetle, put them all in a brown paper sack, and set off across that field toward the security of that leafy bush that was their diet.  There, I set each one of them free happily knowing that within their reach, there was plenty of food.  Except for the rare occasion back at the house when they somehow rolled onto their backs and made a loud buzzing noise with their wings trying to right themselves, to which I would let out a loud blood curdling scream, they were beautiful in the sunlight as I watched them crawl away to freedom.

But my love affair with shiny insects did not end with the setting free of these jeweled bugs.  The costumes I would later make for a dance I would later study often resembled the iridescent colors of the Thai Jewel Beetle.  And the dance I would later study would embrace a beetle icon of its own, a beetle called a Scarab, though not often seen as shiny as the one I fell in love with at the Weekend Flea Market in Bangkok, Thailand.  And unlike the Thai Jewel Beetle, which ate the leaves of a very specific leafy green bush, I would soon learn that the Scarab survives and lives solely on a diet of the dung dropped from the back ends of animals. 

My life long love affair with a beetle has been amazing.  After I returned to the United States in 1969, I discovered Ladybugs.  They were tiny little things, but in retrospect, I now see them as the five-year interim bridge that connected me from the Thai Jewel Beetle of my nine years in Bangkok to my 40 years later of study of belly dance and its icon -- the Egyptian Scarab.  

Today, a stylized likeness of the Scarab beetle adorns the dance floor of my little Egyptian restaurant, Al-Masri, in San Francisco taking up about a ten-foot square space.  And, although black is the most common color for a Scarab, they do come in similar iridescent hues.  The stylized drawing of the Scarab on my restaurant dance floor encompasses the hues of the iridescent green and blue colors of the Thai Jewel Beetle to which I was so drawn over 45 years ago.

The Scarab Dung Beetle was once worshiped by ancient Egyptians.  They saw the sun roll across the sky just as the Scarab rolls a ball of dung across the ground.  To the ancient Egyptians, both the sun and the ball of dung, in similar respects, gave life to the world as they saw it.  It is yet one more poetic reverence to the sanctity of life of which I can only guess the ancient Egyptians having.

I've always lived in awe of the beetle.  A survivor of millions of years, it continues to adapt and flourish, with more species being discovered every day.  It's a wonderful bug.  So, it is of no coincidence that, in coming full circle with it from my first encounter of this hearty dazzling insect back in Bangkok to the present more revered one of the Egyptians, I've adopted it as my dance academy logo.  It has played and continues to play a significant part in my life, representing my spirit and my livelihood both in my restaurant and in my dance academy.

I have great respect for the beetle in its various forms.  And for that, it's only fitting that I honor and embrace the beetle for many reasons -- some of which I've now shared with you -- and to dance on it in Scarab form in my little Egyptian restaurant, in celebration of life, beauty, and tenacity just as these hearty little insects in many of its forms so illustrate time and time again.


I have learned much from this amazing bug.

2013 and the Al-Masri Extensions

Al-Masri Egyptian Restaurant is my little restaurant located in San Francisco at 4031 Balboa Street.  I opened on December 17, 1999; so, that makes it over 13 years of being in business -- despite all the pitfalls and questionable decisions I encountered along the way.  Wow, how times flies!  And, although I'm the sole surviving anchor to this beautiful little 49-seat exotic eatery, my fervor remains steadfast as ever, harboring a vision that encompasses more than just a dining establishment.

As part of that vision, under the umbrella of Al-Masri, I opened my dance school, the Sausan Academy of Egyptian Dance in 2004.  Out of that have come the most dedicated of students and best of friends I could have ever imagined having.  A curriculum I formulated is broken down into four semesters with a goal of one year learning this dance.  A key discovery to the expression of this dance, I called it the Egyptian Dance Code® (EDC®) and registered it with the United States Patent and Trademark Office.  It's an exciting discovery, as well as infectious to all of my students, as they go through the initial four semesters of learning this dance using the Sausan Method, and evolving into potentially striking performers.  Several of my graduates now dance as featured dancers at Al-Masri carrying on a tradition of authenticity both in dance and performance.  Seven-Day EDC® Intensive Seminars, Weekend EDC® Workshops, educational videos, and so much more have come out of this dance school.  And as a result, brought about from all my accomplished the graduates, the Sausan Ensemble Egyptian Dance Company was born.

Recently, in December of 2012, I launched a new little extension of Al-Masri and called Bitchin' Baklava.  Already seen by thousands of people on the Internet and ordered by a few dozen of them, Bitchin' Baklava is proving to be probably the next hotest offering to the public.  The fillings are endless.  Just yesterday I cooked up a filling I call Sweet Piggly Pecan; a concoction of ground pecans, rehydrated golden raisins, and crispy bacon.  Scrumptious!  There are others that salute Valentines Day, Hawaiian flavors, the peanut butter and jelly in all of us, and a filling with some spicy jalapeño added.  Yes, flavors are a-happening!

There is so much to live for the year 2013!  Cooking classes, Egyptian inspired operetta performances, more intensive Egyptian Dance Code® workshops, language classes, documentaries, and quite possibly the publication of my book, Celebrating on a Scarab. Just waiting to get my new computer.

It's been a long journey from 1999 to now, with one huge deviation back in 2005 to 2007 which pushed me off a cliff out of which I've been climbing since 2007.  But I'm looking at a clear horizon and a starlit night sky with clarity and conviction.  NOW is my time.

So, take time to stop in Al-Masri Egyptian Restaurant, order some Bitchin' Baklava, watch my Sausan Academy of Egyptian Dance graduates perform, and then, when it's published, go out and buy my Celebrating on a Scarab book.  Instructional dance videos on the Egyptian Dance Code® to come as well as a cook book or my restaurant's recipes.

Have a wonderful and prosperous New Year.
Hope to see you all soon at Al-Masri or under one of its extensions!
Comments always welcome!