Wintertijd

Salsa

We spent the last three Tuesdays at Camarillo. Camarillo is the place where we decided to have the wedding party in September, and it's going to be a Salsa party. In light of this, Lisa and I enrolled in a Salsa course that is held there. Actually, I went there with a truckload of apprehentions. I did one other dance-course in my life, which was a foxtrot and modern walz course, and it was horrible. They played horrible music and there were too few men for a lot of sweaty ladies in their late fifties without any feeling for rhythm whatsoever. So I hated it.

While doing the salsa course I noticed that a lot of the things were the same. Sweaty ladies in their late fifties and people without and rhythm whatsoever were still in good supply. But the atmosphere is so much cooler. Our instructors are Wilson and Linda. Wilson is a gentleman of Latin-American heritage, and he knows how to shake his booty. He teaches by talking to us in a very flamboyant way, but in Swedish with a Spanish accent that's thick as cold molasses.

Occasionally I have trouble understanding what he says, but he does say it with flair. Salsa, strangely enough, is a very controlled dance. The men make very little moves with the upper body, and the steps can be done on a dime. The movements that you do make are basically designed to make the woman do figures and movements, and generally to make her look cool. It's a man's dance. As Wilson said it, it's our opportunity to be boss for once in our lives.

Then there's the music. I like Salsa and Latin music in general. And by Latin music I don't mean the Gypsy Kings either. We're talking music made by ninety year old Cubans. We're talking all kinds of cool stuff going on. We're talking about South- and Middle-Americans doing it to me in my eardrums.

Actually it looks like we've found a dance that I enjoy thouroughly. I'll be looking forward to doing the advanced course. Frankly, the advanced course seems nicer because you get rid of the newbies. There is one such lady in her sixties that was wearing a sheep for the occasion. I kid you not. A sheep. Or something that rather looked like one. She looks Indian, thought Salsa was a Mexican dance (I guess she was confused with the sauce) and generally looks confused and like she's not having fun.

Dancing with her is, well, a challenge. Sometimes when Wilson shouts instructions to do turns or pirouettes, she starts executing them right in the middle of whatever we're doing. Completely outside the rhythm and without me leading her to make the move. While it's a pleasure dancing with the people that are learning, I find my patience falling short of the mark with people like that.

Linda, the instructor, and her side-kick also dance with us. Her side kick is a girl with long dark hair and dark eyes who lets it all hang out. She seems to have a flair for drama. She's like Eddie Murphy's description of how a Momma should be: Her ass just goes POW and her chest does much of the same. Lisa and I were discussing how un-Swedish that looks. In Dutch we'd call her way of being "Hoog op de poten".

Either which way, the both of them were very complimentary on how things are going. So I guess there's hope for me after all. Plus dancing with Lisa is cool. Apart from her being easy on the eyes and smelling nice she does all her stuff right. But don't tell her I said that.

Posted by Chris at February 23, 2005 03:47 PM