Dancing the salsa

When my new Argentine friends invite me to different activities, I seldom understand what it is that we are actually going to do.

On one such occasion, I found myself at a quaint banquet hall in the Argentine countryside, furnished with a long table where about 30 or so people sat, waiting for lunch to begin.

Everyone quickly greeted me with kisses and introductions, but I still did not know what exactly we were there for when we sat down to eat.

It was only after we were finished eating, when the large table was taken away, one of the men turned on a stereo and the infectious sound of salsa music began to fill the room, that I began to understand what we were there for.

As soon as the music began the men walked over, offering their hands to women who quickly obliged, and as they entered the dance floor they fell into perfect step.

I was amazed as I watched them dance with an effortless efficiency while they smiled and laughed. When one dance finished and another song began, the partners changed as well.

I was quite content as I sat a chair, watching their feet expertly move across the floor; but after a few dances, a young man came over and offered his hand to me.

“Oh no, I don’t know how to dance, I’m just watching,” I quickly explained but he only laughed and shook his head.

“That’s not important,” he said as he took my hand.

He began to lead me around the dance floor with one hand firmly placed on the small of my back and the other held upright and clasped around my right hand.

I felt clumsy at first as I watched our feet move back and forth and we eventually fell into a pattern where when he stepped toward me, we turned and I then stepped toward him.

As we repeated this he began to count to the rhythm of the music: “Uno, dos, tres, uno dos tres,” and when I looked up at him he took his hand and spun me around by the tips of his fingers.

I laughed—I was actually dancing!

As the music played on, I felt more confident and although I did not understand his verbal instructions I understood his hands, which indicated what would come next by the amount of pressure placed on mine. This was one language I was quickly learning.

Gradually, the other couples left the dance floor and I found that we were dancing alone.

As we danced, they clapped to the sound of the beat and shouted in encouragement, “Eso!” which means, “That’s it!”

He then began leading me into more complicated maneuvers and when he let go of my hand I momentarily panicked as I watched him spin around. I did not know what to do so I copied him and when his hand found mine once again we fell back into step.

When the music slowed, indicating that the song was about to end, he pushed me back into a dip and I found myself looking upside down at our audience.

And while this one dance felt like it lasted an eternity, I did not want it to end—my first official salsa dance in Argentina felt as if it had come out of a movie.

I eventually learned that the party was thrown by a group of people who take salsa classes together, which explains why they were so talented. I also learned that they often rent the hall simply to celebrate dancing salsa, but on this occasion they were also welcoming the beginning of spring in South America. 

“So we’ll see you Tuesdays and Thursdays at class?” my new friends asked me when the dancing came to an end—only then did I realize that we had been dancing all day as it had become dark outside. 

I hesitated before answering. While I enjoyed myself, I was not sure if I could keep up with the advanced class and thought it better to start out in a beginner course.

They laughed and playfully punched me in the arm when I said this. They then offered what they thought was the perfect solution: “Why don’t you just take both classes?”

While I was obviously of lesser skill than they, they did not seem be bothered. For my new friends, it is not the competition of dancing that is important to them, only that everyone is dancing together—step by step, song by song, dance by dance.

“Okay,” I finally answered.

 And at the end of the day, I learned that the only thing that matters in dancing salsa is that you can’t be afraid to take that first step.

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