Carole Edrich Weblog

preconceptions # 2

Picture a lone flamenco bailaora dancing with passionate intensity in the dusty heat of Southern Spain. A rose between her teeth, her olive skin, brown hair and expressive dark eyes contrast with the long, full dress that hugs her hour-glass figure. A romantic ideal: few dancers in real life look like that unless; of course, they've contrived to do so. Holding anything in your mouth makes dancing with the face problematic and those thorns hurt! Anyway, we're in London where people of every imaginable size, shape and origin go to Escuela de Baile to learn flamenco. I also doubt that the very few flamenco students who look like that would ever do the clichéd thing with the rose.

Last Friday I went to the Latin Quarter to find out more about the forthcoming Escuela de Baile School Spectacular. It's a massive event with famous professional guests from Spain, and different performers and performances both days of its run. I found Nuria Garcia; the Principal, teaching.

Looking from the back of the class made me think that something was strangely different. It took a few seconds to realise the reason was that every student had dark hair! I briefly wondered whether they were Spanish women doing a special lesson, and if they were, whether flamenco came to them any easier than to me.

Nuria told me that the class would end later than planned. That's not surprising in the run-up to a show when every rehearsal minute counts, so I decided I'd watch while waiting. Settling myself at the front of the class (it gives the best view and I'm sure I'd be soon told if I wasn't welcome) I realised the students weren't Spanish at all but Japanese! Stumbling on to a flamenco class composed entirely of Japanese women in Central London is a strangely surreal experience, especially since they were all dressed in black with long flowing flamenco skirts and looked uniformly healthy, gorgeous and fit.

They were working on patterning (their placing and movements on stage) and as I watched I recognised the disorientation I've felt when I'm still unsure of the choreography but am no longer copying anyone or even (gulp) facing the mirrors. Even at this early stage I could see them begin to co-ordinate with each other in pairs or threes as well as with the larger pattern. As the Fandango started taking shape and it came together in their heads, their excitement at the prospect of the performance and passion for flamenco shone through.

Everyone is looking forward to the show at the Peacock and some are even doing an earlier local performance on May 22nd. Hitomi says she feels nervous and lucky to be in a big show so soon. Kaori loves the way that flamenco allows so much self expression and believes that her experiences at the Peacock will become a precious memory. Sachiko says that although for years she disliked flamenco and actively avoided it, she eventually allowed herself to be introduced by a friend because she needed some exercise and couldn't find an appropriate daytime ballet class. Now she is "absolutely fascinated by the diversity" and comes to both lessons every week.

All mothers, they come to Escuela de Baile while their kids are at school. They're a lovely group of people; open, enthusiastic, patient, friendly and generous. Even though I was a total stranger one lady even offered to share her small bottle of green tea with me!

This week I’m off to watch the Friday lesson as part of the research for a feature I'm doing for Dance Today. Apparently while still mostly Japanese, Friday lessons have a few gaijin (non-Japanese) students too. It'll be interesting to see if that makes a difference.

When the show's over and class goes back to normal there'll be one more gaijin in both daytime classes – me!

Escuela de Baile www.la-escuela-de-baile.co.uk has daytime classes on Wednesdays and Fridays and evening classes every night at the Latin Quarter www.latinquarter.org.uk

The Flamenco Spectacular is on July 1st and 2nd and you can get tickets here: www.sadlerswells.org.uk/peacock/2005_2006/escuela.asp

preconceptions # 1

One evening last week; after deciding to have a nice, quiet night to myself, I went to the supermarket to buy a suitably self-indulgent set of snacks. The woman ahead of me in the queue was speaking beautiful Spanish to her man. We got chatting and I told her so and asked where she was from. She said Forest Gate.

She has invited me to a salsa housewarming party. Should be fun..

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!