learn to salsa dance

Standing at a stainless steel table for hours on end is wreaking havoc with my legs, back and hips. I make it a point to take a break and stretch or squat, even though the cracking in my knees is loud enough for people to look over in alarm.

I’m already known as one of those people who endlessly talks to themselves (not out loud) while they work. I have to in order to keep prioritizing things in my head. BD asked me what I was muttering as I came out of dry storage and I said: “Mustardmustardmustardmustard,” holding up a gallon jar of mustard. “Now I’m going to say ‘Spoon&bowlspoon&bowlspoon&bowl’so that I don’t forget why I have a gallon of mustard in my hands while someone interrupts to ask a question.” (the interrupting happens about 1,163 times a day). I’m not self-conscious about talking to myself anymore, even when people notice.

I also find that standing at my table is a perfect time to rehearse and rehearse my salsa dance steps. Taking tiny micro steps and making little moves to build muscle memory I “table dance” while stirring or whisking or chopping. I have even worked out a routine where I take dance steps while mopping the floor or sweeping.

The other day I was doing my little table dance, oblivious, and looked up to see the two senorias watching me, amused. One said: “Usted danza?”, thinking maybe I was having some bladder control issue. I nodded and grooved a little more. “Si, mammi. Me salsa muy bueno.”

“Oh,” she said. “Es usted ir a la discoteca y salsa?”

I nodded again. “Si, me voy a la discoteca. Cuando todo las senoritas verme salsa, ellas me piden que danza.” Okay, I don’t go to clubs and they don’t ask me to dance, but I’m playing along for the fun of it.

“Si… y danza?”

“Si.” I hold up five fingers. “Cinco dolares.”

“Ellas se les paga cinco dolares?”

“Huh?” I ask.

“You pay to them five dollars?” she repeats.

“NO!” I protest. “Me paga las ellas… They pay me! Me salsa muy bueno!”

This caused both ladies to break into near hysterical giggles. It bubbled over into pure cackling when I said: “Solamente las bonita senoritas,” and made the hour-glass curve with my hands.

One senoria caught her breath and asked: “Solamente bonita? No feo senoritas?”

“Si, si. Me danza con feo senoritas.” I held up ten fingers. “Diez dolares.” Now they were really laughing and I was feeling a little insulted. My salsa is muy bueno, after all.

“Una noche toda vamos a ir a la discoteca,” One lady said. “Toda la noche se danza con muerjes hermosas.”

“Si, mi gusta la idea.”

“And you wife…” she made a fist and punched it into her palm. “Ella golpe usted.”

“No, no.” I said. “Ella gusta la dinero. She punch me and bruise me, las senoritas no danza… me muy feo.”

They nodded like they understood, having about laughed this out, and went back to work. One of them said something that I think was “keep practicing”. I took two small steps back, did a little pivot/turn, step-step-paused, and went back to chopping.

Took a beginner’s salsa class on Sunday. They covered the steps I already know, but I can always use the practice. The instructor also taught us several “flourishes” to use while dancing, to make it look for fluid and graceful. Most important for me, she showed us how to move our arms, giving the moves little codenames like “Checking the Time”, “Weighing the Odds”, “High Five”, and “Slip and Swirl”.

There were an near equal number of males and females in the class, and I got my turn practicing with about 9 ladies. Some were very willing to be led, some were very focused on following their own steps and rhythm and I had to step in more forcefully to lead. That would sometimes lead to a few stumbled steps, but generally we recovered quickly. Mostly I noticed the difference in the women’s hands while dancing. Some were warm and soft. Some were rougher and drier than mine. A couple were ice cold, and one girl had cool, sweaty hands that I tried not to wipe off on my jeans as soon as we switched partners. I wonder if women have this happen when dancing with men. I think everyone would prefer a sweatless, soft and warm hand to hold.

They have classes there every week, and always vary them a little bit, teaching different moves but in a very basic way. Even if I go to four or five classes, I think I will learn something useful on each visit.

S. and I went to a tapas bar that featured salsa dancing, complete with beginner instruction. She does not dance, does not want to dance, does not want to learn to dance. Except ballroom. She wants to ballroom dance for some reason.

I gathered in the midst of about 80 other people as we lined up in front of a stage where an instructor was demonstrating the most basic of steps. Only the people in the front row could see his feet, the rest of us had to rely on watching the feet of the people in front of us. Like a whisper that goes from one ear to another, the steps became more confused and distorted as the lesson passed from the front of the room to the back, and those of us far enough back moved with a jerky, lurching, staggering step that more closely resembled a shuffling attack of zombies than that of suave Latin dancers.

He moved through the steps quickly, too. Plenty of repetition, but before we could quite get where to put what step, he would increase the pace. Then he would move on to a new step, make us repeat that a dozen times at accelerating pace, then introduce another step. Then he strung them together until we were a fairly side-stepping, box-trotting, arm-flinging and twirling danger to ourselves and those around us. But we were laughing and having a good time. After about 30 minutes covering six basic steps, the band struck up and we got to put our moves out on the floor. The ladies got it right away, moving gracefully and sensually from the basics to improvising their own swirls and twirls. The guys looked down at their feet and moved in a variation of whatever dance each of them knew best. Some did the “right step-left step-right step-left step” they must have learned in the Army, some did the bouncy kind of move reserved for mosh pits of the last century, some tried to meld salsa to swing steps they knew from barn dances back home.

One could not help but note the imbalance in the genders represented. The women well outnumbered the men, and almost all the men were with specific women, not likely to circulate. All the more reason to work on this goal and get really good…

My problem is I tend to move like a bullet has stratigically severed my spine, paralysing my upper torso but letting my lower half move like a greased slinky. When I dance (or perform what passes for dancing if music is playing) I tell you… the hips don’t lie. I move my waist and legs like everything is joined by rubber bands and ball bearings. But my upper torso is as rigid and tight as a River Dancer’s. I’m going to have to loosen up and make this a whole body thing. I would break from practice and dancing to return to the bar where S. waited and to drink my four martinis lined up on the bar. She always had the biggest smile on her face when I came back and said she thought I was doing great. I’ve no doubt she was getting a great deal of enjoyment out of my antics.

Right now I can cook, I can build things from wood and metal, I can gauge a fine wine, I can grow things from seeds and harvest them when ripe, I can scuba dive and start a fire with two sticks and some kindling. If I can learn to dance, then I only have to be able to wrestle an alligator to be irresistable.

Every week almost I get an email from at least one location that offers salsa dance classes. I’m so used to being busy those weekends that I delete them automatically.

This month I am going to buckle down and to one.

If I have the time.

We had dinner with a friend tonight and afterwards went to a Latino restaurant for some strong coffee and more conversation. There was a DJ and a small dance floor and I convinced our friend to take a few turns with me. She is a far better and more natural dancer than I am, but we kept it simple and she let me lead(most of the time). We rehearsed some basic steps and danced for about 30-40 minutes. I could probably benefit from more solo practice, but having an occasional partner really helps pull it all together.

I’m a sucker for goals with a purpose at the end, and now I have one for this goal: The 1st Annual Hotlanta Salsa Congress!

“Hotlanta Salsa in association with Mambo Fateegz Inc. invites you (by “invites” they mean you have to pay) to the 1st Annual Hotlanta Salsa Congress September 30th – October 3rd, 2010 at the Hyatt Regency Atlanta on Peachtree Street. This exciting event will feature a full weekend of Latin dance workshops and performance showcases given by some of most talented local and world renowned instructors, dance groups and couples. Not to mention live music and DJ’s playing the hottest Salsa music around where you can dance each night away until early morning. Everyone is welcome so please come join us for a weekend of Salsa with a touch of Southern Hospitality.”

Hhmmmm… maybe if I start asking now I can get the weekend off!

Beautiful, graceful, passionate, sexy, energizing, fun… what’s not to like?

There is no shortage of places to take lessons, both individually and in groups. I will definitely start with a group. I have also found meetup groups with people of all levels of skill who go out dancing and support each other in learning and having fun. And many places that are salsa dance clubs host classes/dance parties so you can learn some moves then try them in the real world environment. I’m not shooting to be super good this year, or learn all the moves, or really stand out. It has been so long since I did any kind of formal dancing that I first need to learn the rhythm, steps and how to lead. But I’m pretty sure I can do this. Plus I work with a number of Latino women who can offer me guidance and advice.