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not an addict
So that I can tell myself I am not addicted to salsa really,
I only dance salsa 1-2 nights a week. 1-2 nights a week is definitely
salsa at a hobby level. It's enough to keep your skills up but not
enough to be obsessive or unhealthy. Salsa is something you do for it's
social and energetic aspects. It's just a bit of fun. you meet people,
you burn up energy, you enjoy music, you move and you learn a new
skill... hobby material.
I have heard tell that there are some nutters who dance 4-5 times a
week and enter an altered state of consciousness as a result. Their
entire world shrinks to be only about salsa.
"well I am never going to be one of those poor souls" I said, confidently.
Quick glance at my diary:
Salsa last night in Brighton (until midnight)
Salsa tomorrow night in Dorking (until midnight)
Salsa Saturday night in London (until 3am)
Salsa Sunday night in Brighton (until 2am)
Salsa Monday night in Worthing (until midnight)
nothing Tuesday
nothing Wednesday
Salsa Thursday night in Brighton (until midnight)
Salsa Friday day and night in paris (until 6am)
Salsa Saturday day and night in Paris (until 6am)
Salsa Sunday day in Paris (until afternoon sometime)
Salsa Monday night in Worthing (if I'm up to it)
yes, I've put my name down for an altered state of consciosness. And then total unconsciousness to recover from all that.
But I assure you, it is just a binge and not a regular thing. Regular
salsa is limited to 2-3 times per week.. which is still normal, right?
Good job I never discovered cocaine, really.
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3.6.05 13:10
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PARIS
I am off to Paris this weekend. yep... Paris... ME. I'm so excited!
I never go anywhere
and now I'm heading off to foreign parts.. Parts where they even use
different money (I've got some Euros but the notes looks comically
small - have I been given toy-money?) and speak another language. I'm a
polyglot, LOVE languages, but French is not part of my repertoire... (oh hey repertoire! God, I'm clever.)
So anyway, there will be altogether more dancing than is good
for the human body and I'm going to be absolutely salsa-ed out by
Monday. Africando are in concert, which is the biggest draw for me...
and I've also promised myself some real bonafide dance shoes out there.
hmmm glitzy silver or leopard print... and how many rhinestones can I
get through customs before being stopped for diamond smuggling?
so yeah... Paris <squeals>
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9.6.05 21:15
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back from Paris
Paris highlights included:
* buying a pair of very sparkly dance shoes - they are silver, very light and comfy and have suede soles for spinning. weeeeeeeeeeee!
* Being told by someone: you are my best dance tonight, can I ask you again later?
* drinking (I estimate) 9.3 litres of Peach Ice Tea
* finding out
most of the workshops were in English, as teachers were from London or
the US, but also managing three of the workshops in french,
* learning to salsa count and left and right in french
* Africando - LIVE in concert.
*discovering that French food really IS delicious - even the cheap stuff.
low points of the trip
* losing my sunglasses
* picking up a
persistent admirer and having to hide in the ladies toilets for a bit
to lose him. It was scarier than it sounds. The stalker I mean,
although the toilets were quite shocking, too.
* waking up each morning with legs like lead and feet like bricks
* realising that in France on Sundays, EVERYTHING is closed and being so famished I wanted to cry.
* learning that
although French food is great, they can't make decent Pizza. Mine
tasted like feet. Do they make dough like they crush grapes?
I loved the
workshops: World class teachers, celebs of the salsa world but actually
really down-to-earth people. One of the workshops was on spins
(in french). The guy teaching was jawdroppingly amazing to watch. After
spinning ourselves into complete dizziness and me starting to not even
be able to stand upright anymore, he ended the lesson with some advice
for practice: "deux fois vers la droite, respirez, et deux
fois vers la gauche, vomissez."
On Sunday night,
I was sat upstairs on the Mezzanine, cooling down and this guy asks me
if "ca va?" (I was looking to the floor, contemplating on whether to
get another Peach Ice Tea or not). He didn't speak much English and I
speak almost no French. He asked me to dance and admitted he didn't do
much salsa. That was plainly obvious from the dancing. Not even the
basic step, in fact, not even to any kind of music. He said his forte
was HipHop, and went on to demonstrate what can only be described as
epilepsy. I considered calling a paramedic - mostly because suppressing
laughter was killing my respiratory system.
So I showed him
the basic step but he was just not getting it. I didn't know the french
for "no, no, you have to transfer your weight onto that foot". I
got as far as "non, non" but clearly NON is not in his vocabulary as he
began to lean in, hands at the ready to paw me. Telling me I was
the most beautiful woman he had seen, that he would never forget me and
could he kiss me.
NO
please, I really want to kiss you
NO
but I think you are so wonderful, please can I kiss you <paws more at me, to show how sincere he is>
cookie is by this time extremely uncomfortable and is gripped with an overwheliming urge to do that knee to crotch movement.
pulling away
from him just seems to get him more interested so I keep telling him no
and move toward the stairs. The bastard is following me!
Downstairs he
still isn't getting the message and I'm peeling him off me so I can
make a dash round the corner to the ladies loos, hoping to God he
hasn't seen where I've gone.
Stayed there for about ten minutes, shaken. He was gone by the time I dared come out again
anyway, Here are my shoes..
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15.6.05 18:14
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