dancing at the club

Dancing is so much fun.

Friday night ended with me wiping blood off my dancing shoes. But it’s going to take a lot more than a stubbed Papa toe and a toenail partially torn off its nail bed to keep me from dancing. And so I went again! I danced Friday and Saturday night this weekend. I’m starting to become familiar with the community of dancers at this club. I’m starting to see who the regulars are, how certain guys lead, which girls are the best, and which guys I like to dance with the best.

During Friday’s salsa lesson, the teacher said at the end of the month she’d pick the best student. I was picked! The reason: “not because of her beautiful dress” – her exact words (I was wearing my ChaChaCha dress) – but because of my spotting. Spotting is the term used to describe the locking gaze that the woman makes with her partner when she does spins and turns. Spotting helps to keep one from falling out of balance. Conversely, alcohol helps one fall out of balance during the spins, regardless of spotting. Alcohol also helps one’s partner kick one in the toe.

Saturday nights at Caliente is the same as Friday nights at Caliente, only on steroids. And by that I mean Saturday nights and Friday nights are totally different. Friday, you can actually do a spin on the dance floor. Saturday, you can’t even see the dance floor. So last night was my first time dancing at this club on a Saturday. It was pretty intimidating because it was packed. And I had my first ewwwww dancing experience with a guy from Israel whose hands kept migrating to my private zones. When I asked him to keep his hands from going to those areas he said, “I don’t want to have sex with you tonight.” (WTF?!) He said something about the music moving him and that it wasn’t about sex, blah, blah, blah.

I said, “I don’t want to have sex with you either, so what’s your point?”

We went back to an open frame and then 30 seconds later he stuck his face in my chest. (WTF?!) At that point it was over for me. And I dropped my arms and walked away. He grabbed my arm and then said he was just joking. I said, “Ok, I’m done dancing for now.” and then, not wanting to be the one dumped on the dance floor I guess, he waved me off and turned away leaving me on dance floor. 8-\

The very first time I went to that club was for P’s Dirty Thirty Party. She’s the same person who organized the Speed Dating event I attended. Since she’s pretty plugged in socially – loves to host various social events at venues around Seoul – I decided to go to the Party; perhaps I could meet a nice person, I thought.

My first impression of this bar/club that night was that it was a sleazy joint. If I were trying to hide imperfections I’d keep it dark too but it’s so dark there that it seems they didn’t pay half their electricity bill, or that they are trying to keep their electricity bill low. There’s this one spot, the far corner of the dance floor, which is the most brightly lit spot of the entire dance floor. Maybe it’s the only light bulb providing light for that half of the club. Anyway, that particular light gives off this yellow color, which compliments the yellow wooden floor making it feel like we’re in some kind of reptilian terrarium, with Latin music. Weird.

The club is complete with wobbly tables, toilet-paperless unisex bathrooms, ceiling fans missing their blades and a few not working altogether, and the rope lights strung in the windows in a star shape are never even turned on so they look like forgotten about holiday decorations. But for the music, there’s no theme or character. I think there’s one flag of some sort (representing a country?, a sports team?, I don’t know) that vaguely stands out in my mind but it’s all alone on the wall. There are no other mementoes, pictures or souvenirs on display. There’s two hand made signs with unevenly spaced letters saying, “SMILE YOU’RE ON CC. NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR LOST OR STOLEN ITEMS”. The ambiance, if it could be called that, screams, “we don’t care.”

They have one thing going for them though. They are the only Latin dance club (that I know of) in Iteawon. Which is why I’ll be back there again next weekend, each time becoming a little less aware of it’s ick-factor and a little more aware of it's ick-patrons.

Meanwhile, I want to learn more moves and get better and better at dancing. Wish there was a visa for dancing.

Notes from class: need to do faster turns, need to keep my arm at an L shape when doing my spins.