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Arts & Entertainment

The art of dancing Greek

Sarah Bruce - Arts & Entertainment Editor

Imagine a room full of girls and a few boys nervously waiting for the music to begin. The steps were taught but now it was time to put them to a beat that was warned would increase as the song went on.

Andreas Christofiloyiannis, not only a fourth year tourism student but also apparently an amazing dancer, was charged with instructing the Greek dancing class during International Days.

“In Calgary there is a pretty big Greek community,” Christofiloyiannis said, explaining he learned Greek dancing where he grew up.

He started when he was nine or ten and danced with a group for fifteen years. They travelled all over North America for performances and competitions: Toronto, Montreal and Florida to name a few, he said.

The class was taught a more modern dance, especially since the majority of the dancers were women, but traditionally Greek dancing is more dominantly danced by men, he explained. If women do traditional dancing, they usually dance conservatively.

Traditional dance depends on the region: in North Greece it is more tribal, and on the islands the music is fluid like water and waves, Christofiloyiannis said. “Traditional dancing is about being poised, tall and proud.”

There were at least twenty of us arranged in a semi-circle from tallest to shortest—putting me near then end—so we could raise out hands to rest them on our neighbor’s shoulder. The dance seemed easy at first step-behind-step, making sure to dance on the balls of my feet to make the dance lighter, preparing me for the cardio workout I was not sure yet I was about to receive.

Ha! I could do this with my eyes closed. Moving counter-clockwise: step-behind-step. But before long we added stomps, and then stomps with kicks and twirls every now-and-then to keep the pace up, all of a sudden bouncing on the balls my feet made sense.

Step, step, kick, three times and than a twirl. My hands fell from the shoulders of my neighbors, I twirled and as I spun back to form, my hands automatically found their place again in rhythm, most of the group had also found their place in to the next step, step, kick.

I was getting the hang of this! I was doing this with my eyes closed now trying to imagine an afternoon in Greece. I have never actually been there but I could daydream: the Mediterranean ocean, white washed buildings, a warm breeze, amazing food—I do love tzaziki—the beautiful music picking up as warned. I realized then that the music was going faster and I couldn’t keep up with my neighbor; was the next step a twirl or a stomp?

I stumbled, but as I looked around, so had most of the class, our instructor quickly pulled away from the dance and turned off the music.

“Want to try a slower song?” he asked a nodding but flushed and exhilarated group.