dance with me

I just finished reading Travels on the Dance Floor by Grevel Lindop; a true story about the author’s travels around the Caribbean and South America to learn and practice salsa. He traveled to:

• Havana, Cuba
• Caracas, Venezuela
• Bogota and Cali and Juanchito, Colombia
• Panama City, Panama
• Puerto Rico
• Dominican Republic

His last stop on his nearly 2-month long journey was Miami, Florida before returning to his home, and his wife, in England.

He arrived at each city with minimal arrangements prepared beforehand, preferring to use the local Yellow Pages to find salsa instructors and asking around town to find the popular spots for dancing salsa and then he’d just show up and inject himself into the surroundings by getting a drink, watching the dance floor, and asking a few ladies to dance. I especially enjoyed his telling of these experiences for several reasons.

I found it fascinating to hear the pre-thoughts and logic that went on in his head while he surveyed the scene to try to figure out the type of salsa to which the patrons were inclined. In addition to that he scanned the crowd for danceable women, calculating the right and wrong times for approaching. The rejections were many it seemed, but he could clearly see when an opportunity was there for the taking, and he took it many times. It’s fascinating that all this pre-thought has taken place before a hand is extended to another. A man cannot assume that all women show up to dance, even if dancing is always the reason this woman shows up. The next hand that comes my way I can appreciate just a smidgen more for knowing the mental energy that was spent to get it there.

Maybe it’s because he’s a poet or extremely observant or perhaps for some other completely different reason, but his description of the women he met on this journey was unusually extensive and quite impressive. He was able to describe hair texture, skin color, the look of the eyes, the personality in an expression, clothing styles, body shape, the way their body felt to be moved and the way their body felt against his own. It was descriptive but not graphic. It was honest but not degrading. It was thorough but not stalkish. Through his writing I could sense an appreciation for every woman with whom he danced. I could sense his enjoyment in appreciating women, as though it were a pastime. And for some reason, this makes me happy.

So reading about how this guy pops in a plane and flies over to some country that I’ve only ever seen in movies (cue ‘Romancing the Stone’), then finds the place loved by the locals, walks in and then asks complete strangers for their hand in dance, inspired me to do the same, on a smaller scale. Last night, after work, and then after the gym, I set off for a salsa club in Itaewon (which some Koreans believe is like going to some other country). It was not my usual night, and not my usual hot spot. I was headed for the second in command; the runner up to Caliente, a placed called American Latina. Though I’ve been there several times before, this time I was going under different circumstances. This time I was going alone, with a determination to dance salsa with someone new.

Before getting to the story I want to point out the boldness of this idea. I may not have been hanging on for dear life in the back of a taxi in the Dominican Republic or bribing my way out of a police inspection in Venezuela, but I was on an adventure facing risks that were the first of their kind. Having been to American Latina before, I knew it was a safe place for my bag to be unattended while I danced, I also knew the layout and the location of the emergency exit, I also knew that the bartender and owner would recognize me, and I also received no less than 5 compliments on my blouse earlier that day at work. That’s 4 checks for safety. Now for the risks which made this adventure a bold one. I had no idea if any of my salsa community friends would be there and flying solo is just not what girls do~ with whom would I go to the bathroom? Check one for risk. I had no idea whether or not my ex-boyfriend, who likes to salsa on Friday nights (it was a Friday night, btw) would be there or worse yet, would be there with friends or even worse, would be there with a new girlfriend. That counts as at least three checks in the risk column. My adventure was highly safe as well as highly risky and I had no back up plan; I was simply betting that my ex would not be there and that I’d see someone I knew or make a new friend along the way. I must have been feeling lucky.

So I’m on my way to Itaewon going over The Grevel Lindop Plan: walk in, find a place at the bar, order a drink, scan the crowd, enjoy the music, watch the dancing, wriggle rhythmically in my spot … and, my own twist on his plan: wait for someone to get the hint.

As I’m getting off the bus I can already feel the attention my aloneness is calling as the eyes of a very tall Nigerian (I guess this because almost every African I’ve met in Itaewon is from Nigeria) follow me down each step off the bus onto the street and continue following me as I walk over the curb and onto the sidewalk where he happens to be, walking in the same direction as I. His eyes are still watching, I can see from corner view, as I pass him trying to gather the confidence that I know I’m going to need if, when I walk into American Latin, only a block away at this point, I see my ex. At least I’ve got on the right blouse, I thought to myself; it would be a crime ~not~ to go out tonight wearing this blouse, I further reasoned.

There I was, on the third floor, just about to open those silver doors which couldn’t stop the music from leaking out and down the stairwell. Rather positively I figured one drink and one dance was a reasonable goal for the night. I pulled open the door. I walked in the way I suppose Grevel did – thinking that I’d just leave if something wasn’t hitting it for me (music, crowd, or atmosphere), with a no-harm-no-foul attitude. Immediately I noticed that it wasn’t crowded. It was dark, as usual, but I could see that there weren’t that many people there, which was nothing strange for this place at 10:30 on a Friday night. I spotted a seat at the bar, said hi to the bartender and owner, walked up to the seat scanning the crowd just quickly enough to see that it didn’t include my ex (whew!), plopped my big bag on the bar stool with an ‘oh-it’s-been-a-long-day-now-I’m-ready-for-a-drink’ way about it, took a look at the menu, pulled out my change purse and ordered a Corona. Half my goal already accomplished in the span of 3 minutes. I had better slow this thing down, I cautioned myself, remembering the comical 2.6 seconds I spent at the Long Bar in Singapore's Raffles Hotel, each hurried swig of my alcoholic beverage taking down with it the knots in the back of my throat of embarrassment for being a singleton at what could possibly have been the busiest bar in the world at that moment.

Pacing myself this time, I spent the next 5 or so minutes texting friends, which probably gave the impression that I was busy waiting for or organizing a group to join me. Then I spent the next 5 or so minutes watching the dancing and checking out the potentials. I saw a tall Korean guy who danced quite well and considered asking him for a dance but he seemed to be on a double date with his friend and by the looks of it they were paired up tightly for the night. I thought if I continued to make excuses for not asking someone new to dance with me, then I had better make myself look approachable if I want to be asked to dance. So I bounced in my seat to the rhythm of the song and tried to look friendly while I held my beer and waited.

I didn’t have to wait long. The owner asked me to dance! It was a salsa song so I was happy to oblige. Although he is a small man, and although his salsa style is not the same as I learned, and in fact our dancing was very mismatched, I had a great time dancing salsa with someone new. Afterward I asked what style of salsa he dances and he told me that it’s Colombian and that he used to work in Colombia for 10 years. I was curious to know more, ‘Was it Bogota or Cali perhaps? Or maybe it was Juanchito’. Grevel’s travels were still fresh on my mind. But I thought for now, the less conversation, the better; I’ve got to look and be approachable.

After a few more dances, some with friends from the salsa community and some with the owner and none with the tall double-dated Korean, I decided that I had gotten all that I wanted to get out of the night. My goals accomplished, I grabbed my bag, said goodnight to the bartender and owner and to my friends and then walked out the same way that I had walked in, alone. It was 11:30, my "risky" adventure ended, and I was headed home earlier than the bus drivers!
~~~

I found this video on YouTube while I was searching for Colombian style salsa. This is called Swing Latino (and is nothing like the owner’s dance style), and I cannot figure out if Swing Latino is the name of this dance group, name of the musical group that plays the kind of music you'll here in this video, or if it is a name of a movement. This from Wiki: "Nowadays the Cali Salsa dancing style is revered on the international arena as one of the hardest and most energetic, displaying fast complicated footwork. Recently Colombian dancers have become World Champions year after year and the style is becoming more popular and admired among Salsa professionals worldwide; with the most prominent salsa school being 'Swing Latino' driven by the dance choreographer 'El Mulato'."

Careful, you might just loose your breath watching these dancers look fantastic and amazing. Take a look at the way these dancers perform. It’s very attractive. It's very fast. Blink, and you'll miss half the show.