Get on your dancing shoes

I might dance like a blind giraffe.

But I am determined to master the art of salsa.

That’s the only reason I have spent the past five months agreeing to dance with every Latino who grins my way.

Now I live in Bogota I have no excuse for not taking some organised classes. Last night was my first one.

(Okay, I did one class at my old Spanish school, but it was mostly spent giggling with Pippa and careering into people so it really doesn’t count)

I went to the class with two friends, Renee and Jessica.

Renee’s Colombian friend, Julian, came too, with his friend, Juan David and cousin, Edgar, so we were all sorted for partners.

Hooray.

And the night proceeded to be pretty damn comical.

Although the boys all possess the ability to dance salsa (and probably have since birth) it was their first ever organised class.

They are used to dancing on instinct so when it came to following the instructor, we all struggled together.

The class was a real mix of ages too. There was just one other couple in their twenties.

They had clearly been attending the class for some time and the girl, at least, knew exactly what she was doing.

She was lovely and kept switching partners with us in a bid to help all of us learn the steps.

I think Edgar and I got there eventually (or maybe not) but the best part was how seriously the boys took the class.

The girl’s boyfriend was a nice looking boy. He had a trendy haircut and was wearing fashionably cut jeans and trainers.

At one point he stood between Julian and Edgar, who are equally trendy, demonstrating a step.

“It goes like this,” he said, deftly moving his foot and turning.

“Do it again slowly,” Edgar laughed.

All three practised the step.

“But doesn’t it go like this?” asked Julian, turning the other way and adding an extra movement.

“No, that bit comes afterwards,” the boy replied, entirely seriously.

“You do this bit first,” he said, repeating the step and spinning with a flourish.

“Then it goes like this.”

I had to hide a smile as I stood and watched them.

That would just never happen in England.

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One Comment

  1. Peter Bedrosian

    You’re slowly starting to get the hang of things down there 🙂 I was always taught that if you can speak Spanish, and you can dance, you can have any girl in the club. If you are girl however, the rules don’t apply. Kind of one sided isn’t it? I hope you will be able to show me some moves one day, we’re both tall so it won’t look bizarre LOL Take care and keep up with the posts!!!!!!

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