Back to Salsa.
Kinda crazy, but I ended up joining a salsa class today on a whim. You know, just to see how it'd feel to do something arty *without* being affected by feminine pathos. Or perhaps, I was trying to do at least one thing in life finally without playing the role of the tragically troubled romantic hero with a mysterious past; this is a temptation that, must admit, I often find difficult to resist.
So yeah. I think I survived pretty well considering, well, that I seemed to have dropped by a 30-something gathering of professionals. In fact, one of them seemed to be as old as my grandmom, a feeling reinforced by the fact that the grandmom lady couldn't, as it happened, resist sermonising on my non-existent dancing skills; I want to see you next week, she almost said, wagging her finger, but only after you've practised the salsa basic in the confines of your room.
Now, you have to understand that the last someone told anything to me in that tone was, of course, in class 10th; Ms Jagannathan always believed that the way to rote-learn all those inorganic equations was to "practise" them. So when I was grinning at her (Salsa Grandmom, not Ms Jagannathan) suggestions, I wasn't simply laughing at her, but also at myself; it's a difficult world, you'll have to agree, when your salsa partners start reminding you of your 10th class chemistry lecturers.
The instructor was better than my previous one, but was sneaky in that he tried to sell his salsa compilation CD when I asked him if I could borrow it to rip it into mp3. As usual, there were more women than men, somehow, a long-standing tradition in these parts. One of the guys did try to flirt with one of the gym instructors which, I thought, wasn't loserly, but practised; both his and her responses seemed as matured as, I don't know, yesterday's chicken chop in my fridge that my flatmate surreptiously sneaked in some time today morning. Juicy, unexpected, unhealthy and none of my business, but unavoidably noticeable.
And oh yeah. This was in the middle of the gym, so we made quite a scene. A blogdom acquaintance who did greet me on that after the session; didn't know you were into salsa, she seemed to say. I don't know exactly what she said; was not only tired, but also feeling slightly elated for some unobvious reason. Yup, been salsa-ing for a year now, I said, just feeling a little blue.
6 Comments:
At 5:01 am,
kuffir said…
you write better than you can salsa....maybe you should stick to writing..and salsa only when you fall short of things to write about..
At 2:35 pm,
.i. said…
Well, at least a grandmom. Its a start. Keep at it :)
At 3:01 pm,
The Cydonian said…
Kuffir: Just trying to find my earlier footing, pun intended, in writing. Used salsa to get over my writer's block, so. :-)
Thanks for dropping by!
Whim: Come to think of it, I'm reminded of this Columbian acquaintance (arrgh, spellings!), who first introduced salsa to me as the "music for people of all ages". I had, back then, thought he was saying that both Santana and Ricky Martin played the salsa, but now understood the larger implications:- salsa, indeed, is not a generational thing!
But yeah, to answer your point, no wasn't trying to pick up anyone. Read the part about a lack of feminine pathos. :-)
At 9:57 am,
Anonymous said…
I had a salsa day too..
http://adhyayan.blogspot.com/
--Prasanna.
At 10:29 am,
The Cydonian said…
Tamizhan,
You're saying you'll continue to have hot sex while I dance the salsa? :-O
No problems bud, rock on! :-D
At 2:10 pm,
The Cydonian said…
Pooja: Good of you to drop by!
Luckily though, much water has passed under the Esplanade bridge since this episode; I now can do the salsa basic without any prompting, from grandma's or otherwise. Or falling down, which is more important.
All that I ask is to be open to the idea that some moves can, at times, be improvised on location. And indeed, that it is possible sometimes to convert a salsa party into a stand-up comedy session.
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