When I go on holiday, salsa is put on the back burner for reasons of protecting my children from what they believe to be a HUGE embarrassment. I don’t think I’m embarrassing, but then I think I can sing, so it’s all a matter of perception.  Anyway, to counteract this, I ask my salsa friends to report back on their experiences.  I live salsa in foreign climes Through Them, so to speak.  

So, when SC, aka Nikki Parker told me that she had been dancing in Dubai, I went, ”What was the salsa like in the middle east then?” and this is what she said!

 

Salsa Chick ‘Nikki Parker’ finds Salsa in yet another country 

SK, aka Chris Penhall, asked me if I’d write a Salsa blog after our trip to the UAE (United Arab Emirates)… so here goes. 

It’s time for our holiday and this time we’re visiting my husband’s family in Abu Dhabi.  As is the norm, as soon as I knew it was definite I started the hunt for Salsa in Abu Dhabi & Dubai.  As luck would have it a local Salsa friend, Caroline, who seems to know EVERYONE had a Salsa friend in… guess where?  Abu Dhabi!!  She’d met him at a Salsa Congress in Cyprus.  

No sooner had I mentioned this I was lucky enough to be introduced to Caroline’s friend & Abu Dhabi contact ‘Moe Flava’ (cool name, eh?).  And then, it gets better: Moe was organising a Salsa fiesta at the time we’d be in Abu Dhabi – and only 10 minutes down the road.   And better still, on my birthday, Moe – through Facebook – invited us to the festival as his guests!  Fantastic.  That’s Salsa for you. 

The festival seemed a fairly small affair given the high profile entertainment they had, to include none other than Tony Lara & Dani De Francesco as well as Miriam Oppel & Inaki Fernandez.  We were lucky enough to see their brilliant performances and I was truly wowed by Tony & Dani’s Bachata Tango – a jaw dropping routine.

Moe was lovely and it was nice to finally meet and dance with him after our online-only communication. 

Though in general the standard of dancing wasn’t as high as we’re used to seeing in Essex there were some amazing dancers.  I was lucky enough to dance with someone and then find that between him and his friend(s) they took me through my paces with a full-on fast and furious dance whereby they each danced with me in turn, seamlessly passing me from one to the other.  Amazing.  It was worth going for that alone. 

Another dancer that caught my eye was a beautifully-stylish Salsera – I didn’t know who she was at the time. 

A few evenings later we decided to try out the local weekly class which happened to be at Zenith, in the Sheraton, almost next door to my in-laws.  I was very impressed by the standard of teaching and also by some of the freestyle dancing after class.  Watching the classes – beginner & improvers – their teaching style was just like ours.  Uncanny that you travel all this way and it’s just the same – but then that’s what’s so fantastic about Salsa.  After class I danced with the improver teacher ‘JJ’ (Shaban) who was very nice to dance with.  I then discovered too that the lovely dancer that had caught my eye at the festival was teaching the beginners that night – Naida Akaeva.  I had quite a few dances that evening and once again it proved that Salsa is an international language.  My husband and I had a lovely evening and the music was FABULOUS! 

Sadly, though we went to Dubai for a couple of days, the Salsa there conflicted with either our timing or location so we didn’t get a chance to try it.  

So to the next holiday and the next story of Salsa around the world…

Copyright Nikki Parker 2009

Dancers in Need for Children in Need

I’ve gone and done it again.  I’ve gone and volunteered to do something without thinking about the consequences. Again.

These things always seem such a good idea and the time, and I do love to dance..I do love my salsa.  But dancing for complete and utter fun, and dancing for the enjoyment of others and for an ultimately serious purpose, is something else entirely.

But when word got out about Dancers in Need, all I could think was, I love dancing, I’ll do that, it’s for charity, I love dancing, I’ll do that, it’s for charity..and so I am doing that, and it is for charity, but will I be any good really?.  And, more importantly, do I want to know if I am any good……for years I have existed in this happy little salsa bubble where I was or am good enough for me, thank you very much. I don’t teach it, I don’t perform it, I simply dance it…and so the truth is of little importance.  In my head i move like Ginger Rogers. 

Like I said, in my head…

However, someone is going to tell me exactly how well (or not) I dance in a few weeks time.  And it may change my life forever…or at least the way I feel about dancing.

Sorry, I haven’t explained Dancers in Need, have I.

Well, what it is is this.  For Children in Need 2008 some of the BBC Local Radio Stations are doing their own versions of Strictly Come Dancing.  No, not just on radio, at special glitzy events where we all will all wear sparkly frocks, descend Hollywood-style staircases without falling over (please God), and impress the audience, if not with our dancing prowess, with our bravery for agreeing to do it in the first place.

You see, it does sound like a good idea, doesn’t it.  But I am a social salsa dancer and know nothing of the ballroom.  I happily screech around salsa floors wiggling and giggling in what i like to think of as my own free-spirited style (although others my describe it differently)

But now I need to be disciplined, learn new dances, sort of “perform”, smile throughout, look elegant (impossible), and not cry when the judges give their marks.

You see, it has changed my perspective already.

I usually dance as if no-one’s watching, because usually no-one is watching, but soon many people will be watching, and my safe little salsa bubble might burst…

Although I am looking forward to it, sort of, as i like a new challenge.  And my place of work has become a little bit like fame, with people practicing their steps behind the filing cabinets,  whilst the kettle’s boiling in the kitchen, and whilst walking along the corridors…and they’ve only just started.

Me? I am used to this particular kind of addictive behaviour having been a salsa addict for six years, now.   But to see it happen to one’s colleagues is faintly odd…

Meeting my dance partner this weekend to start practicing myself.   Poor man. Hope he’s got pain resistant feet!

For more info on Dancers in Need, log on to www.bbc.co.uk/essex

 

A Whiff of Salsa – Once Again – in Dublin

Having had my brief encounter with salsa in Cyprus recently, despite all efforts to avoid it, I suddenly remembered a visit to Dublin a few years ago with some non-salsa friends.

And they certainly DID NOT want to do salsa, and although I’d packed my dance shoes in the hope that my whingeing would persuade them to accompany me to a salsa club, they were having none of it.  But if found me, it did, albeit fleetingly.  It sort of waved at me and whispered in my ear – i’m still here, and here’s a teeny tiny bit of me just to keep you topped up…….

Now, it sort of happened like this.  IIt was One of those nights, the last hour of which you just couldn’t make up; the sort of hour, which if you told people about it, they would think you were lying, and you would have to bring out witnesses to corroborate it. And I have got witnesses, because they were in it….

The evening started off with all five of us.  We have known eachother since 19…ahem, and although we don’t see eachother very often these days, all have our assigned roles within the group: the highly organised career woman, who will buy 3 designer outfits before the rest of us have rolled out of bed, the very organised earth mother, who always has a supply of milk cartons and tea bags somewhere in her luggage, the one with no sense of direction who we always lose, the one is slightly older and has had a very interesting life…., and me – the one who is always late.

When its all five of us together at the same time, we balance eachother out; but lose the first two, and well, it can all go a bit to pot really. And it did….but we had more fun!

After a lovely meal and a couple of exploratory visits to a selection of Dublin pubs, the organised section of the group decided they were tired, and headed off to the hotel. This left the scatty section – which included me – to visit one more pub. Then we decided we too should return to said hotel.  But, um, where was the hotel…..

We set off hopefully, positive that something would jog our collective memories.  But we’d spent the evening visiting Dublin pubs, so, really, fat chance there.  Still, it was a very warm summer’s evening, and Dublin is very nice, so we carried on regardless.

Suddenly, the one who always gets lost – who is used asking for directions, obviously – grabbed a nice young man as he was walking past and asked him the whereabouts of our hotel…….and being a nice young man, possibly overwhelmed by our Welsh charm (all three of us are Welsh and will talk anyone into submission), he offered to walk us there.

And of course, he told us his life story.  By now, it is around midnight, and we have no idea where we are or where we are going, but he is such a nice young man, we didn’t really care.  Then, he told us he worked in advertising and was currently working on a campaign for fizzy drinks….and there is my office he said.  There are Cornettos in the freezer and said fizzy drinks in the fridge, would you like me to get you some, it’s such a nice evening…..

And we all went, Yes, please, free ice-cream and fizzy drinks. And its past midnight, get us!!!! (well, we didnt say that, but that was the gist of it)

So, he trotted over the road.  And we waited.  And we waited.  And we waited…..And we waited. And then it began to dawn on us that he may not come back.  That it may have been an elaborate way of getting rid of us.  I mean, we can’t half talk, the three of us.  He could have gone in the front door and nipped out a side door, and the one who’d had an interesting life needed the loo, and my feet were hurting…

And miraculously he reappeared, clutching four cornettos and four cans of fizzy drinks.  What a nice young man! The four of us continued on our way – he was from New Zealand, apparently, over for less than a year, liked Dublin, thinking of Hong Kong next – and then we were there, far too quickly, back at the hotel.  And he turned left, and we turned right, and we all waved, and thought, you can’t beat eating Cornettos at Midnight in Dublin in the company of a lovely young man from New Zealand.

With the best part of the evening apparently over, we climbed the steps to the hotel, still clutching our cans of Fanta, or Seven Up, or whatever he’d given us.  As we walked through the door, the Night Porter said, do you want to go on somewhere else………..?

Myself and the one with no sense of direction said, yes, why not….the one who had had an interesting life, said, no, too tired, need the loo….

So he pressed the buttons for both lifts, sent the tired one up towards her room, and pressed the button sending myself and the one with no sense of direction downwards – to who knows not.  We never asked….

As the lift doors opened in the basement, I heard something….a vaguely familiar tune, with latin rhythms, vibrant and catchy, and i said, salsa, salsa, i can hear salsa….so we turned the corner – still clutching our fizzy drinks – and stepped through a fire escape into a bar heaving with people, as a band played the last few notes of the last salsa tune of the evening (as it turned out).

We stood in the doorway, me waiting for the next track, so i could strut my salsa stuff, but the band started packing up.  This was much to the relief of my friend, I feel – she’d had a bad experience at a salsa club in Cardiff a few years previously, and as a result had a few prejudices. 

So, we walked to the bar, put our cans on the counter, turned to survey the heaving and happy crowds…and when we turned back to pick up our drinks, the barman had poured them into glasses for us and thrown the cans away….

By now, past words, we just looked at eachother, finished our drinks, picked our way back through the fire escape and took the lift to our rooms.

And in the morning made sure we spoke to eachother about it, so we knew it wasn’t just a dream…you know, like the Bobby Ewing dream….

so, there you are – I got a whiff of salsa, despite everything, and a free cornetto to boot….

Copyright Chris Penhall 2008

www.chrispenhall.co.uk

How I sort of – but not really – salsa danced in Cyprus despite trying to avoid all things salsa.

There is a hotel in Cyprus that I visit regularly – The Azia Resort and Spa – in Paphos, where I go and just “be” for a while.  Where the most important and difficult decisions of the day are a. which way shall i point the sunbed – the pool or the sea? b.  where shall we eat?  That’s it.

And it’s where i allow myself to bathe in the light and the colour of the sea and the palm trees, immerse myself in the the pinks and whites and yellows of the bouganvaellia, and gaze at the slow sunsets when the sky turns from pink, to purple to clear, starlit black.

It’s where I walk around in bare feet all day just so i can feel the warmth of the grass and the heat of the paths, where I run through sprinklers in the evenings when I am wearing clothes – not a swimming costume – just because it feels nice and i know i will dry quite soon anyway.  Where every day is a Bad Hair Day, because of the heat, but who cares.  And where I jump in the pool clumsily and noisilyfor no reason other than it feels nice and it embarrasses my children. (getting in and out of the hammock is also good for this, too, as I have to roll onto the floor to disembark)

Sometimes we venture out of this little piece of heaven into the bright lights of Paphos. 

I had no desire to dance salsa, speak salsa or feel salsa.  i wanted to escape from everything and be someone else for a while.   One evening, it didn’t quite work like that…….

My children and i sat down at a restaurant prepared to eat slowly and watch the world amble by.

I looked up at an adjascent wall and saw something that wasn’t there last year. A big orange sign.  it said Salsa Classes every Thursday – salsa, merengue, bachata, cha cha, regaetton.

I sighed.  Of all the chairs at all the tables in all the restuarants in Paphos, i had to pick the chair that faced the sign advertising the thing I was trying to escape.  Really, this year I was definately trying to escape.

But, I thought, this is Tuesday, not Thursday, and there will be no music to set my feet tapping or my bottom wiggling and make me ache to dance.

But, then it began to happen.  You know I was trying to escape and be someone else.  Well, nope, not tonight.

The manager of the restaurant decided to share his encycloapedic knowledge of the geograpy of the UK with us.  And very, very impressive it was.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

I told him. Then listened open mouthed as he mentioned two night clubs in the town, a few roads, the main trunk roads and quite a few towns round and about.  We gave him a well deserved round of applause.

A short while later a man from Manchester paused to look at the menu.

“Where are you from?” asked the manager.

“Manchester,” said the man, who then listened open mouthed as he told him the main routes in and out of Machester, plus some towns round and about

Another round of applause

As we were leaving, the manager was talking to a couple, and called us over.

“Where are you from?” he asked the lady.

She told him – a town near to us.

“Listen to this,” I said, “This is impressive.”

Then he told her about her town, where it was near, and what roads you could take to get there.

Another round of applause.

And then it happened……a couple of high fives, and then, “Let’s dance!”he said, so there I was, a 30 second dance on the harbour in Paphos, next to a sign that said, Salsa every Thursday – salsa, merengue, bachata, cha cha, regaetton.

And as I ran after my children (who had disappeared into the crowds, embarrassed, as usual), I thought….how did that happen? And how come of all the people in all the restaurants in all of Paphos it happened to the one that salsa dances – the one that wanted to escape from salsa, for a while at least….

And the reason is, that every time something happens that makes me want to walk away from salsa, it wont let me go.  It waves at me and goes “I’m in your blood whether you like it or not.  You aint going nowhere else, are you, really.  Enjoy the sunsets, and see you next week……..

Wonder what the salsa classes are like in Paphos, then…?

 

  -

Salsa in the Big Brother House……….not………

It’s Day Seven in the Penhall house, and housemate Chris has successfully remembered the shine she learned at SOS on Sunday.

Having successfully completed the task, Chris has been allowed to order a bottle of Cava and a Kit Kat.

Chris is asked to come to the Diary Room

Big Brother would like to know why and how you have finally managed to remember a shine after six whole years of being crap at shines and only making a desultory and frankly shameful attempt at footwork.

Well,  i did remember a shine two years ago after two private lessons.   But the shine disappeared after a couple of months, due to lack of use i.e. lack of confidence on the dance floor to practice it.  Because once you sort of dance ok, and stop, for the most part, looking like a beginner dancing on the dance floor, part of your ego goes “oh no, I am going to have to interrupt my “look, look, I can dance” and go, “just practicing, sorry. Could you bear with me for a couple of minutes while my eyes glaze over and I stick my tongue out; just got to concentrate……….ok, done, am salsa diva again……what, what…….oh, dear, did i dribble….”

But this time…and my theory as to why i have not only remembered but executed this particular shine several times already is, partly because I am really, really determined, but also because of the conversation I had with my friend Shelley on board the SOS bus one Sunday.

We discussed learning styles.  And although I know i like a mixture of show, flipschart, notes, discussion and putting things into practice afterwards – but only after talking to myself and consulting notes – it had never occured to me that this was part of my problem.

I needed a flipchart, a pen and a notepad, plus a bit of question and answer (I used to be a staff trainer and loved writing things on flip charts…sad, but true).

But, I feel – and telll me if I’m wrong – that taking copious notes whilst the teacher is dancing, then expecting them to do a flow chart onto a whiteboard – would change the atmosphere of the class somewhat. And possibly inhibit others.

And after having realised how I learn, and then realising that i wasn’t going to learn a shine that way - No way – I managed to learn a shine and EXECUTE IT SUCCESSFULLY AFTERWARDS.

The human brain, honestly.  Well, mine, anyway…..

 

 

 

 

 

Salsa and the Space-Time Continuum

MY NEW YEARS RESOLUTIONS

 I know it’s nearly June, but as far as I’m concerned, 2008 has started a bit late for me.

 January 1st 2008 was supposed to kick off a New Positive Era, and I was supposed to

 be More Proactive, Positive, Fit, Healthy, Adventurous, Kinder, Funnier, Cleverer, More

 Creative, More Instinctive, More Focused, and generally be a better All Round Good Egg.

 I narrowed these down to a few specific Resolutions , as measuring whether you’ve achieved being a better All Round Good Egg is a bit problematical – and the ones I can write about included getting better at shines at long last, learning  to lead, and clearing out my clothes. Ruthlessly. Really.

 Unfortunately, Life Happened – family sadnesses, threat of redundancy now lifted, decorating, colds, coughs, flu-like symptoms, the fan on the central heating breaking again, and problems with the space-time continium.All these put achieving my resolutions back a few months.  But i’m back, and 2008 has finally started.  I’m sure in some calendar somewhere the new Year starts in May, so that’s the calendar i’m following.

The Space-Time Continuum and Shines.

 Having long had a problem with shines, I finally got sick of my diversionary tactic of wiggling about a lot to drag attention away from my feet, and occasionally skipping a bit to make it look like something interesting was actually happening viz a viz my footwork. I got this from one of my daughters, who, when she was two years old, used to stand still, make a big show of moving her legs as if she was about to take off, say I’m jumping, I’m jumping, and then just sort of stretch, quickly to make it look like something was happening. But it wasnt. Her feet never actually left the ground.Impressive slight of hand when you are two. But doesn’t work for adults.

So, having bored myself to tears, at last, with this inability to dance properly, i finally decided to do something about it.  But i couldnt. I ran into problems – I began to suffer from Time-Slip.

This must have happened to you.  You make the decision to arrive just a few minutes earlier at your venue.   You get ready earlier so that you are ready to leave just a few minutes before you normally leave.  Everything is ready, everything is set. But you arrive at EXACTLY THE SAME TIME THAT YOU ALWAYS USED TO, meaning, just after the shines begin.  Just enough after the shines begin to make you think, “I’m too late, I wont catch up. next week I’ll be on time.”   But it happens again. Now, I’ve checked this out with my two regular clubs of choice . One is ten minutes away, one is an hour. BUT I ARRIVE AT EXACTLY THE SAME POINT IN THE SHINES AT EACH CLUB. I.E. JUST TOO LATE TO START THE SHINES…….whatever time i leave my house.

The reason? Time-Slip. You have a pre-set time to arrive

at your destination and that’s the time the universe allows you to get there.

That’s your book-in time. Whether you’ve booked it or not. And to make

sure things run smoothly, even if you are ready early, your bit of time

freezes at some point before you get to the club – ie. your bit goes slower, the rest of the universe carries on as normal, et voila!! You arrive at your usual time. Think of a big hand picking you off an escalater when you’re near the top, and putting you back right at the bottom without you realising it. That’s where that sense of Deja-Vu comes from. “ooh, i feel like i’ve been here before….how bizzare and spooky.” You have been here before . I minute and 30 seconds ago to be exact….

Thus, everything runs smoothly for the salsa-universe, but it doesn’t help with the shines. Does it…..and you can’t go in somewhere and say, “I’m late again.  That flipping space time continuum. Caught me out on the Mile End Road this time.”  People tend to keep their distance when you say that. Well, that’s my experience, anyway.

But last week something changed.  I managed to get to my Tuesday club on time. And i managed to do the shines. And I managed it for my Sunday club, too.  I was rubbish. But its a start.

How did I do it? Firstly I began to get a bit stroppy with the Universe.  Why had I been singled out to be rubbish at shines – because that’s what it amounted to, didnt it…..the Universe didn’t have a good enough answer for that! Then ITstamped my feet a bit and got a bit whiney, which made the Universe feel a bit guilty. Then I left really, really early, so no matter how many Time Slips I had, the Universe couldnt keep up.  Don’t know why I didnt think of any of it before. actually -

After all that, my shines should improve…but don’t watch this space.

Learning to Lead

I cannot blame the fact that I have not learned the rudiments of the lead on the Universe or time-slip.

The blame lies entirely on my shoulders. I have made many excuses over the years – none of them any good. Although as I have been accused of leading myself by one or two (or five or six) members of the opposite sex, there have been occasions when I thought i didnt need to bother.

But I did need to bother. Because how can you understand the dance if you don’t know what the other person is going through – I mean – what the other person has to do in order to give the correct signals to lead you.

So, I took the plunge at the beginning of the year, but due to arm-ache and colds I gave up.  But in my new shine-friendly, learning new skills mind-set I have started again in the absolute beginners class.   And it’s hard work. It’s like learning to drive a car isn’t it (sorry, ladies), but a different one every seven minutes.

Then there’s the limited arm-stretch – I am petite (no, not short – petite), and have to stand on tippy toes every so often to lead a turn, whilst the taller ladies helpfully bend their knees so I don’t wallop them in the face with my arm….none of us have fallen over yet, and from the outside it may well look like we’re on opposite ends of a very, very small see-saw, but i’m on a horizontal learning curve and wont give up. No, no, no….

However, at this moment in time, the prospect of leading anything more than a cross-body lead, and single turn seems no more than a dream, and a rather hazy one at that.

You see, I have always said that leading can include actually telling people what do to with words, as it does in the outside world. So, “spin, turn around, side to side, titanic…..no, no titanic. No, no not lik that,” could be part of the man’s repertoire, although I suppose if that happened the ladies could use “Bugger Off” as a response, as would of course happen in the outside world too.

Ok, that would take away the fun of learning our secret language, but at this early stage in the game, seems a more effective avenue for me to take than the traditional route.

And to the men I have danced with over the years…….flippin’ heck, its really really difficult, innit. I do apologise for all the arm pulling. And rounds of applause for being able to remember all those leads so we can do more than go backwards and forwards when we dance…..

How long this new and empathetic state of mind will last I don’t know, but there is one thing……I think all men should learn how to follow, too….now that would be interesting…and as for the arguments,…..would add an extra bit of salsa- frisson, eh……

Over to you…

Next time – The Perils of Pauline – or the Chaos of Chris – my encounter with the City of London Police on the way home from a rather lovely salsa night out….

Copyright Chris Penhall 2008