rigodon

It's going to be Independence Day in two days, and I'm still looking for a Philippine flag. We've always had one hanging on our gate or in front of our door for Independence Day, which means that technically we should have about three or four flags carefully folded away, ready for the occasion. Unfortunately, I can't find any of them and I don't know where to get a flag. National Bookstore, perhaps ... I'll head out there later.

Independence Day this year falls on a Sunday. My dad will be in Bangkok then, so most likely the three of us - my mother, Freakchild, and I - will spend it having lunch out somewhere,then going home and celebrating by pigging out on various Philippine sweets. As sad as that sounds, it's actually lots better than what we did last year - we stayed home and slept. I miss Independence Day celebrations at Philippine Embassies - S has been messaging me all week with updates of their preparations for Independence Day in Guam, and my friends in KL have tried countless times to entice me to KL with news of the dinners and fashion shows and exhibits that have been planned.

Wah.

Three years ago, in KL, I danced the rigodon de honor in honor of the occasion:



Yes, I was porky in KL.

Technically I wasn't supposed to be part of the rigodon - that kind of honor belongs to "elite members of Philippine society" and "state officials", which in another country translates to embassy officials and any/all Filipino expatriates who have the time to attend practice sessions. My parents were invited to join, but since my mother was part of the committee organizing the dinner/dance, she declined and I was hauled in to partner my father in her place. At practices, I discovered why the rigodon is intended to be danced by state officials, etc. - it's a very sedentary dance. Essentially all you have to do is walk back and forth, exchange partners, and bow to one another - because of course, it wouldn't do to have the ambassador and various other dignified members of society bobbing around in a vigorous polka. I spent most of the time at practices moping in the corner, because I had to turn down three dates in order to practice - my mother pointed out that since I was technically the lowest man on the totem pole at practices, it wouldn't do to be absent from practice. If the ambassador can make it, she said, You WILL make it.

So there I sat, sulky and dateless. Being part of state dances isn't really all it's cracked up to be, especially when you're twenty-one and dying to be out sipping cocktails and dancing with a cute boy.

Despite my griping, I enjoyed myself during the actual dance. There was a pretty part where the couples waltzed into a circle and the women pirouetted gracefully from partner to partner; then the circle broke apart and we went into the traditional waltz that starts off the ball. My father is a good dancer, and he waltzed me from one corner of the dance floor to the other. After that - as we had been instructed during practices - all of the couples separated and left the dance floor to invite other people to waltz with us. Sadly, there were no cute young men to invite, so I invited the husband of one of my parents' friends - no help for it, as my father had invited his wife. We waltzed very awkwardly - one round around the dance floor - before I made a relieved curtsy and made a run for it.

From my safe spot at my corner, I watched other people waltzing. The ambassador had invited the High Commissioner of Fiji to waltz, as was proper - although they looked very funny dancing together, because the Fijian HC is quite statuesque. My father finished his duty dance, then went looking for my mother to waltz with. My boss - who was part of the rigodon - ditched his wife, who had partnered him, for his twelve-year-old daughter, who accepted with grave delight. I watched them for a long time - I love watching fathers dance with their daughters, especially when they are dancing the waltz. It's such a formal, grown-up dance; you can see the little girls' pleasure at being treated like ladies by their fathers, who are usually the very first men in their lives. Around and around the two of them went, the girl glowing happily up at her father.

I miss formal occasions, and dancing - although vaguely, the way I miss everything and everyone I don't have right now. There's a certain relaxed relief to knowing that this Independence Day, I won't have dozens of events to attend, fittings for new gowns, practices for dances and special numbers, or speeches to ghostwrite. I also won't have tons and tons of dinners and breakfasts and lunches to go to, which means that I am considerably slimmer now compared to when I lived in KL.

I'm just counting my blessings. To tell the truth, I'm dying to go to another formal occasion because I haven't been to a really good one since I left KL.