Last Saturday I pulled myself out of bed, slung on my joggers and a vest top, and trudged into town (looking like a complete loser next to everyone else in their skinny jeans, but never mind). I meandered my way up the hill to the student centre, blinking dully when a Norwegian who was looking decidedly too cheerful for my tastes waggled a bit of paper at me.
'Am I supposed to be able to read that from here?'
'You here for the hip hop class?'
'... yes.'
Hanne arrived a couple seconds later, yawning big, and we both sat on the floor of the dance studio, eyeing the instructor warily as he grinned and danced around the room.
The first thing he showed us was a bit of body popping. I wasn't sure about it really, because things too often go pop for me without any additional help. However, his enthusiasm was infectious, and soon he had us all warmed up for the task a hand: learning the dance for Michael Jackson's Thriller.
Supposedly I can now do this. I can do a very amateurish version of it, at least :)
It was amazingly good fun though, and he almost had me talked into taking his class this semester, but then I paid for a trip to Hardanger (which I guess you'll hear about in three weeks or so) and had to buy a couple more books for uni, so I decided I couldn't really afford to.
He taught us how to moonwalk as well! I'll have to keep practising so I can show you all at Christmas.
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