Salsa

Los Angeles, California

Way back in the very beginning of time, I mentioned that I had come up with a brilliant idea that everyone should have three things in their life which they are passionate about. Remember? Right away, I wrote about one of my passions, which is writing. And quite soon after, I revealed that behind door number two was: cooking. And now, friends and neighbors, it is time to reveal the final trump card in my life. My final lifeline which, along with its two sisters, keeps my soul nourished. And that is salsa.

Now, you might be thinking that salsa is that thing that you can make by chopping up tomatoes, for a start. More cooking, you're thinking, and what's new and different about that? But no. Salsa is dance. And I could leave it at that, because for me . . . salsa is dance, full stop. Of course, there is a lot of dance out there. A friend of mine has a modern dance company. And, I once saw Baryshnikov dance with the American Ballet Theatre. And, stretching back into my past, there has almost always been dance in my life. Everything except tap: ballet; jazz; folk; belly (yes, belly); and finally, salsa.

I have a friend, Kim, who is a really, really good salsa dancer. Well, she's just a fine dancer, period. She was a Thriller creature -- you know, in the Michael Jackson video, but that's another post. Or not. Anyway, Kim, taught me the basic, non-partnered salsa steps some years back. And I took classes with her that were based on salsa -- salsa aerobics, and a salsa/jazz dance class, for example. But it took me about a decade to take the next step - to learn to dance with partners.

Then, in the summer of 2005, we were visiting friends in Sonoma County, California. They took a group of us out to a Greek restaurant. We ended up dancing, in a line, Greek-style (you know . . . after a shot or two of ouzo). I felt so joyful, so full of joy, that I came away from that night thinking that life was too short to miss out on dancing. I realized, once again, that I had to have dance in my life. I needed, I lusted after, a steady diet of dance starting right then. But what kind of dancing would I do? I didn't want to take formal classes -- I mostly just wanted to go somewhere and dance, like we had at the Greek restaurant. But back home, Greek dancing was out -- it was just too hard to find it on a regular basis in LA. But salsa . . . salsa was out there.

My pilates instructor at the time, Lisa, had begun salsa dancing and told me about a club that was in my neighborhood. It was called Rio. And it was there that I took my first class in partner-led salsa dance, taught by an instructor named Laura Canellias. My friend, Cindy, came with me. I was hooked after my first class. Cin said she was too, but in retrospect she was not so much. She made plans to go with me again, and canceled. Plans made again, and once more canceled. I finally realized that if I really wanted to learn salsa, I would have to go it alone. So I did.

Learning salsa was challenging. My feet could already move well, and I had a frame that was adequate. But the experience in class of partnering -- literally being held in the arms, albeit not closely, of strangers of that other gender -- well, that ran the gamut of emotions from shyly uneasy to feeling the downright nervous ickiness that I felt as a fifth grader at cotillion dance class. And, just like in that experience, once again I was taller than a lot of the guys.

While trying to adequately acquire this skill of partner-led salsa dance, there were some disasterous moments. When I told one man, who had asked me to dance, that I was a beginner, he turned on his heel and walked away! And there was that shocking dance with Walter (who later turned out to be a favorite -- a true blast as a partner), when he bent my back across his knees and played my torso like congas . . . I'm not making this up. But, even in those first few months, I could have a dance experience that went, as F. Scott Fitzgerald would say, all glimmering. Those precious seconds when you feel like you're flying with none of the attendant dangers of sky-diving or bungee cord-jumping. Moments when the movement, the music, and the magic came together in divine symbiosis.

I've now been dancing for almost five years, and I could probably go to any club in the greater Los Angeles area, and know someone from the LA salsa community. We are a tight-knit and supportive group, and we can literally dance the night away. I suspect that for many of us, life and love may come and go, but salsa goes on. And our community is part of the beauty of that. Right now I am learning salsa rueda which is a Cuban-style street dance, done in a circle or wheel (rueda). It is 'called' like square dance, and you change partners as you move around the circle. It is fun. One of the great things about salsa is that there are various dances with origins in distinctly different places in Latin-America. As you learn more, you can acquire different layers of nuance which, when interwoven, will make you into a distinctively-styled dancer. In the dance, everyone is unique. Like snowflakes, or butterfly wings.

But the best part of it is that I have learned to dance in the face of . . . whatever. Billy doesn't dance much (our agreement is that he knows enough to dance once with me if salsa is played at a wedding or what have you). But he understands that dancing brings me bliss, and a centering comfort that is necessary to my well-being. He supports me, and I am so grateful to him for this. For, in the last analysis, after the bliss of dancing, I come home to Billy, who holds a space in my heart greater than any other interest I may ever have. But I also think that he appreciates me for who I am, and a large part of that is that I am now a salsera. And that doesn't mean that I make that stuff with the chopped tomatoes. Though, truth be told, I can do that as well. Just not in the same shoes. Thanks for reading my blog.