Salsa Update!

After my terrible showing on the basketball court (still breathing hard and my new shoes gave me a new blister that has my new socks [1 one of them] soaked in red) Brenden, an American turned Ecuadorian chiropractor, and I stopped in for a few victory beers. We didn’t win but after my showing, not getting killed by my teammates deserved a beer.

Di and I had a Salsa date that night. After my last attempt, it was evident that pre-salsa mojitos don’t help. So I decided to try beer this time. Brenden and I had celebrated for longer than we probably needed to but it actually loosened my hips up a little bit. My previous “feet-go-N-and-S-while-hips-go-E-and-W” thing didn’t really work. There are a lot more little steps and direction is important and, though it may be trite, you gotta feel the beat.

Di and I arrived at the Salsa club Zoey and met some Ecuadorian friends and we grabbed some drinks and watched the band come on. They were fantastic, energetic and had the dance floor filled quickly. Most of the people there were pretty good. There was a $5 cover so it wasn’t for those who didn’t want to salsa. Given my post-game-pre-gaming I got to the dance floor quickly tonight.

After watching the LeBron James of Salsa dancing, Maricio, I figured if I could do 10% of that, I’d be ok. Watching his feet was confusing and asking for trouble but watching the pace of his movements and his hips was a little more helpful (yes, I was watching his hips). The band only lasted an hour but DJ iPod was pretty good.

Di and I danced all throughout the night, though I did get to dance with some of Maricio’s señoritas here and there which was fun and someone less “enthusiastic” may have been a little more embarrassed but I actually got helped out by some group dance stuff. There was some version of the train that went on and some other gringo-bail-out-dances.

At the end of the night Di and I cabbed home and feeling accomplished and salsariffic. Di danced with Maricio once and looked like every other beautiful girl that danced with Maricio. Girl can dance. I genuinely tried tonight and occasionally succeeded. My highlight reel resembled salsa dancing and while editing has a way of making bad look good, this beer league salsador made progress.

It didn’t take 48 hours before all that progress was seemingly erased with what was a pretty humbling real salsa lesson. We arrived a little late (typical) and hopped in. Matt, Di and I partook as the kids sat and watched.

This was the first time I was dancing with a mirror and I was less than impressed. It made me love Di that much more than she has now put up with me as a dance partner on three separate occasions. I did realize that when it comes to learning to dance its good to loosen up. You can stretch all you want but if you want your hips going anywhere, I advise a drink. Especially if you only sort of speak the language of all the girls you’re trying to dance with. This night I was unarmed.

The lesson wasn’t a complete failure. In the solo practice stuff, I was doing just fine (there was a sequence with four spins in a row that took a second to get but it came before starting with a partner). The problem started when I got a partner who was more lost than I was. I was in zero position to be teaching her how to spell salsa let alone dance it. She was either so embarrassed she had to make up a story about her ride being here (wouldn’t be the first time) or she actually had to catch a ride, but midway through partner dancing I was without a partner.

The next song I got paired up with a very cute Cuencana girl and I had the pleasure of following the best dancer in the class. It’s like being the Bulls’ shooting guard following MJ’s retirement (Anyone? Buehler? Anyone?... Brent Berry. He’s actually a fine player but also enjoyed his worst shooting season of his career that year and the Bulls ended up with the number one pick… Berry played for the Sonics the next year).

After the last girl who ditched me, and my need for a little more practice with partners before being left to my own destruction, I did not do well. Not five minutes earlier was the instructor saying I was doing well and now I am in the special needs class. I contend she wasn’t my type but she didn’t seem too interested in where I was from and what my sign was after the dance. The last song I got to dance with Di and while I looked like a fool, her English instructions helped.

The lesson was only an hour but the glutton for punishment that I am, I signed up for more classes next week. I do think I’ll get it. The rhythm isn’t far and the steps aren’t that hard. Sometimes I can do it better than others. There’s another salsa class at my Spanish school this week as well. Hopefully this week a girl will come.