Carole Edrich Weblog

Latin London - Game and Players

I've decided to spend a couple of weeks revisiting the London salsa scene to get some background for pieces I've been commissioned to write on La Linea and Latin London. It has reminded me how much I love my job so I thought I'd share it with you...

You can’t get a real feel for a salsa venue without sampling the lessons, so I started doing just that on Monday. I would have taken both lessons available instead of just one if Bar Salsa had answered the phone before 6:15pm. I need them too! I’m more than a little rusty and all my reflexes have been mucked up by the other stuff I've been doing, so without a few lessons to get back up to scratch nobody will want to dance with me (at least not more than once). Besides, as a woman who is not a regular denizen of any particular club, I know that if I do the lessons I can meet people, size up the guys (what were you thinking - I meant their dancing - so I can gracefully avoid those who can’t lead or have no sense of rhythm), and give onlookers a similar opportunity to decide whether or not they want to dance with me. It's all part of the game.

With more people than one would think could possibly fit on the dance floor, men and women were arranged in lines facing each other with the teacher in the middle. All the women watched four squashed rows of men as they learned their steps. What I saw in the guys’ faces made me want to scribble notes right then, but I didn't because it might have put people off, or at least on their guard. Some concentrated on the steps with an intensity I doubt they apply to their work, others gazed at us or the onlookers at the bar with a frozen grimace and a few wore expressions of absolute panic that put me in mind of rabbits caught in headlights. It must be terrible to get stage fright in a salsa lesson! A few blatantly showed more interest in the women than the steps (a mistake – no girl who has gone to a salsa club to dance will be impressed with a guy who hasn’t) and I spotted one who was only paying marginal attention to the teacher but got the moves right every time.

Body language rather than facial expressions differentiated the women. A few knew exactly what they were doing and showed this in the way they moved while learning both leader's and follower's steps. There was a group of gigglers (enough said); party girls (dressed to be popular the whole night long), partners (occasionally sharing meaningful glances with their men), professional women (some of whom looked as though they already regretted bringing work colleagues), serious learner-types, a couple of gaggles (an ex used to call them ducks-think of the way some women walk), various singles, Carole and me. I’m sure that being in a club with a friend of the same name should make a useful chat-up line, but it seemed too much trouble to work one out.

I don’t think I’ve ever gone to a salsa lesson with anyone before. Going with a female friend means talking with her which reduces valuable dancing time and why would I go with a man when there are lots there already? Especially since I'd rather dance than talk and would feel torn between him and... well... everyone else.... And I will dance with anyone providing he has a sense of rhythm and can lead. But it was fun to exchange observations with Carole, who knew exactly what I meant when; less than 10 minutes into the lesson, I told her I loved my job.

The real games started after the lesson. The club was as crowded as I remember which was a bit of a challenge but really added to the atmosphere. The players formed exactly the same groups as they did years ago: some only dance with those new to the scene (they'll milk it for all they can get), some dance much too close when you'd rather they didn't, others won’t dance close enough when you'd rather they did, some look at anything and anyone other than you, some can’t lead to save their lives but act as if it’s you who is wrong, some have such a terrible sense of rhythm that they can put you off for days, loads lead you into collisions with other dancers because they don't think far enough in advance (or don’t think at all), a few don’t bother with the lesson but expect you to spend the rest of the night teaching them, too few have a sense of play that shows in their dancing style and occasionally, thankfully, some can dance well and even manage to chat at the same time. When Mike the Manager proved me right (he was the one I spotted in the lesson) by dancing better than me while simultaneously holding a conversation, I decided to quit while I was ahead and went home to write.

Can’t wait for the next sessions!

Posted by carole at May 3, 2005 01:34 AM