Samba Dreams

Despite laziness and a really rough day at work, I went to the raw beginner samba lesson last night at Elite. Despite not being a raw beginner, it was SO MUCH FUN to spend an hour doing samba walks, botafogos and whisks. It's a serious workout if you're serious about it, and I was panting and sweating. Even an experienced dancer would've at least had a good time at the lesson working on the building blocks of samba. There's always something to improve, even with the simplest figures, no matter how good you are.

I unexpectedly ran into a member of the old team. I was signing the lesson roster at the counter when she called my name. We chatted for a bit, and I mentioned how guilty I felt for abandoning the team (for good reason), and she invited me to the team lessons on Tuesday evenings at 9 PM. That's late for a 5:30a riser... But I would improve dramatically and quickly if I started going again. She and lots of others in the area are headed up to NYC this weekend for the Manhattan Dancesport Championship.

As I strapped on my worn latin shoes, that indescribable feeling came back. Energy and mystery, I guess. The music is loud, you're in rapid and controlled motion - moving is all you can think about.

Do I want to get involved in the collegiate scene all over again? Hmff. The adult dancesport scene is elderly-dominated. Kind of frumpy, if I had to pick a word.

Guh. I just want to be able to call myself a dancer again. There was a point at which I felt comfortable doing that.