The voice trailed off, with the potential consequences never revealed. Such statements had assumed the response to my declaration of colouring my hair while on vacation. When I returned with a faded grey though, no further concerns were uttered.
In order to prevent a prolonged stay amongst unfamiliar faces, I took to handling my own logistics. Upon conclusion of the reception, I'd be relieved of further social interaction and happily carry on with my own itinerary instead.
Generally speaking, the bathroom facilities were well maintained, but not exceptionally clean. The stalls utilized a white wooden frame with bevelled surfaces, on top rested a thin layer of dust. They were wide enough to accommodate voluminous attire and featured sturdy hooks on the back of the door. Tissues and thick, disposable hand towels resided by the sinks. By the end of the event, these hand towels had vanished entirely, an indicator of absent mid-reception bathroom checks.
The tables had been covered in two layers of white tablecloths. Lanky vases had been positioned at each table. For the first ten minutes of being seated, the arrangements poked at my face and hindered image-capturing maneuvers. By the time meal orders had been taken, one had been knocked over by my neighbour, toppling before me with a dramatic tumble. Needless to say, the section before me remained sodden for the remainder of the meal.
"Can we just move the flowers altogether?" I asked with a distinct edge in my tone.
The server seemed irritated and unwilling to move. Eventually, he shifted the flowers in a hasty, disagreeable manner underneath one of the stone arches.
It is worth noting that his curtness did not improve during subsequent encounters. The request to swap a soiled fork for a clean one was met with a rude grab of the dirty utensil and indignant toss of a new one.
From a different member of staff, I requested warm water. This inquiry was responded to with courteousness, albeit lack of promptness.
Salade Composée, which was described as a platter of "greens, crispy chickpeas, pickled red onions, sheep yoghurt, and lemon vinaigrette" was disappointing at best. The pre-dressed leaves were slick to taste and not very crunchy. Supposedly substituted in place of nuts for a soft crunch, the chickpeas did not constitute a pleasing contrast. In fact, once roasted, the centres separated from the exterior, resulting in a flimsy "shell" of sorts.
My platter was handed over to my browsing partner after just a single (successful) spoonful.
Truit Pochée, an "olive oil poached trout with leeks, squash, vadouvan curry, and watercress" was the tastier of the two options. Although the sauce was hardly complementary, the fillet was impeccably tender and supple. It had been arranged atop a pickled root vegetable hash that smelled like Parmesan, yet tasted more acidic than creamy, in all making for a combination of unmatched peculiarity.
Coffee and tea would be served as well, though the brew was merely passable, veering into watery territory
The Matcha slices vanished within seconds of being laid on the table. Rich, indulgent, and positively potent, each layer exuded splendid grassiness and structural integrity. I would have returned for a second serving had they not been depleted. Milk Tea and Hazelnut were also delicious: where one was aromatic and robust, the other was subtly nutty. The wedding cake was undoubtedly the highlight of the meal, as well as the entire event.
Nonetheless, my stance was firm: Such gatherings shall not pique my interest unless good food and dynamic pursuits are involved.
Disappearing downstairs, my mustard one-piece was swapped for an all-black ensemble, dangling earrings removed, and hair gathered into a ponytail. Interestingly enough, the black blazer, dainty necklace, and baggy pants evoked the aura of my childhood era dance director.
Hurrying out of the venue, down the concrete staircase, and into the newly paved asphalt garage, I bid my browsing partner farewell and zipped off to North York.
Uncle Tetsu was observed to have taken over the former Tsujiri and Daigyo outpost on Spring Garden.
Making haste, I dashed up towards the third level of the retail building. This floor housed a handful of dental clinics, shared bathrooms, and a number of individual studio rooms utilized by Star Dance. Impossibly humid was the corridor, with not a single window or respite area to relieve oneself of the stuffiness. My 3:35 PM arrival and washroom-locating ordeal had sent me in a panic; with some degree of relief, I learned that classes had been delayed due to children's programs concluding with tardiness.
While the class did not comprise of more than twenty attendees, the microscopic room made for challenging maneuvers and restricted movements. The instructor had shuffled our position in the room several times over the course of the class, leading me to discover the interesting addition of mirrors on a pillar.
Having attended class at BGM, I was ready to experiment with other "beginner"-level courses back home. To my surprise, the Intro class was far shorter and easier than the BGM equivalent. Despite finding myself in a room of regulars, the pace was found to be relatively slow. Choreography-wise, the piece was simple and capitalized on repetition of hip hop fundamentals. When reviewing footage of my session, I couldn't help but observe my footsteps being lighter and more precise than the rest of the group. That said, my performance lacked the groove and bounce associated with the genre, lending my version a somewhat bland, out-of-the-textbook vibe. In addition, counting also still proved a personal challenge. A fellow class participant had noticeably more groove, though her moves weren't as sharp or thoroughly developed.
In hindsight, my experience to date has likely rendered me capable of Beginner-Intermediate classes at a decidedly swifter pace, or at least the equivalent of BGM's "Level 3" courses.
Comparing against BGM, however, I did not find the facility to be effective in developing dancers, even at a recreational level. Those at BGM, in particular Yaebin and Nancy, were fantastic mentors, exceeding their roles as mere instructors. Classes were taught in a concise, progressive fashion to encourage and hone existing skills, incorporating just enough challenge to serve as opportunities for growth. Star Dance, while wholly supportive, could be described as "fun-centric", as opposed to "student-focused" and thinking from the perspective of a learner.
As part of the three-class Intro package, one more visit shall be paid to the dance centre in the next four weeks.