At the conclusion of "Trolley Dances 2009," which runs along the Blue Line from the E Street Station to the border in San Ysidro, we stand at the end of the line facing south, where the trolley stops at the U.S./Mexico border.

On the far edge of a fenced-off grassy park (that is off-limits to everyone), eight women press their bodies against the towering border wall. Whispering voices and scraping metallic sounds make our skin crawl. The women come toward us and manipulate rain sticks; they turn away and draw the sticks back at their sides, as if paddling canoes across a green sea.

Dancers lean on rain sticks in Jean Isaacs' "My/

Your Border." Photo: Manuel Rotenberg

In that brief serene moment of Jean Isaacs' "My/Your Border," we forget the roar of traffic around us, the thousands of people crossing, and the controversy that surrounds the region. But tension quickly returns as the women jam their sticks into a tree and rotate like a giant corkscrew, and the rain sticks become umbilical cords, connecting each woman's belly with a tree.

Abstract and visceral, it is a strong symbol of Isaacs' intention: to call attention to the border. The program of six dances is also a celebration of the area's vivid bi-cultural atmosphere, and Isaacs is careful to balance heavy art with joy and pure fun.

Now in its 11th year, "Trolley Dances" needs little introduction. The partnership between Isaacs' San Diego Dance Theater and the Metropolitan Transportation System takes dance out of the theater and into a world we don't often see. Isaacs selects choreographers to create site-specific work along the expanding trolley line. Tour guides lead groups on and off the trolley six times a day over two weekends.

This year's production features two works by Isaacs and an international slate of choreographers: Elfi Schafer-Schafroth from Switzerland; Kim Epifano from San Francisco; Peter Chu, who travels between America and Canada; and Miroslava Wilson from Mexico.

The dance experience is immediate. In "Tastes of Heimat," by Schafer-Schafroth, joyful, deftly layered dancing begins right at the ticket tables. Heimat is a German word with no real English translation that refers to the place where you feel at home, a perception that has developed over centuries with thousands of connections. Schafer-Schafroth's choreography offers a splendid interpretation.

Dancers begin by marching in grid patterns, perhaps alluding to a Heimat concept of German identity that is patriotic, but not nationalistic. Historically, that regional pride opened a door to a rejection of foreigners, and those privy to that information are likely to think of the rejection of Hispanic immigrants here. Still, Schafer-Schafroth dedicates the dance to all people in the world deprived of Heimat. While the site is a concrete trolley station, the dance and theme clearly connect with the surrounding neighborhoods. When dancers pull out doormat-size squares of green turf and arrange them with little white cardboard houses, we are reminded of the bungalows along the Blue Line, the tiny plots of grass just inches from the track, and the families who live there.

A longing for a homeland and community grew out of the German exodus from rural to urban areas, and Schafer-Schafroth's movement merges many genres into one, like Bavaria meets Broadway. Folksy line dances and hip swivels spiked with hip-hop rhythms suggest we will be happy when the old world joins with the modern age. She draws excellent performances from the dancers, especially Kyle Sorensen who leads the ensemble in tight formations, cartwheels and cabrioles, and partners with his wife, Gina, in a duet. We are left with a new understanding of the elusive Heimat, which is a fine way to start this adventure.

Dancers groove and growl in

"The Recessionist Feminist

Car Wash" at the Chula Vista

Service Yard. Photo: Carlos

Maia

A short walk leads to the Chula Vista Service Yard and Isaacs' "The Recessionist Feminist Car Wash," another upbeat performance with dancers grooving and washing Isaacs' Toyota. The site isn't historically significant. It lacks architecture and is bereft of landscape, yet the work is scrubbingly fun and taps into the industrial environment of the area. There is an undercurrent of anger among the scrubbers. They grimace and growl and toss their buckets, but they don't quit, and when the work is done, they blow bubbles.

In previous Trolley events, choreographers have had dancers splash in fountains and swimming pools, bounce on hotel beds, ride escalators in shopping malls, juggle fruit in supermarkets, and hike through river parks. But that often meant you'd have to journey quite a ways from the trolley. Some attendees enjoyed the communal marches, but others said they were too difficult. And slogging to each site took time. Last year's production was a wonderful event, but it took too long, up to three hours for some groups.

So this year, Isaacs and her team made a trade-off. They tightened the timeframe - my tour on Saturday took about two hours. Instead of quirky buildings and other visually pleasing places far from the tracks, they chose all outdoor sites with easy access, albeit a lot of concrete.

In her work "Chula," Epifano has dancers frolic inside a classic VW van that roars in tight circles around the parking lot at the Palomar Trolley Stop. The work's non-stop energy makes you feel like a kid again and ready to join them on a roadtrip to Ensenada. Deven Brawley is a standout on roller skates and daring balances on a skateboard. Anjanette Maraya-Ramey is excellent as the gal who can handle six men. Together they have chemistry and remarkable timing. Soaring lifts, rebounds off the bumper, and hopping in and out of the side door - while the van is circling - all look easy, and the sound score is a fiesta.

The mood shifts dramatically in "Grounded Steps," a powerful, darkly satisfying piece by Chu. Muscled dancers dressed in gray climb chain link fences and balance on a looped metal bike rack in San Ysidro. They are tense and exude a sense of primal fear, as if being stalked by a predator. They even howl. Jillian Chu (a friend, but no relation to Chu) is captivating. Her eyes flash from left to right, from the American to Mexican side, and she bravely walks on top of the metal loops, a lasting image that tugs at the heart.

On Saturday, Wilson's "Breath/El Principio/El Fin" didn't quite measure up to the other dances. It felt like three disconnected works and suffered from too many elements such as dancers adorned with post-it notes, a score of ticking clocks and approaching trains, and tying up the crowd in caution tape. Still, it remains burned into memory. Try to imagine this: dancers whirling, post-it notes fluttering to the ground, and suddenly, an elderly woman on a motorized scooter cuts through the group at high speed. A man, presumably her husband, runs frantically to keep up with her.

The out of control scooter wasn't planned, but along with the site-specific dances, it's the spontaneous surprises, the people watching, and the getting there that continue to make "Trolley Dances" a dance adventure worth seeing.

"Trolley Dances 2009" continues Saturday and Sunday, Oct 3, 4. Six tours daily starting at 10.a.m.

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