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Tuesday, March 18, 2014

My Foray into Latin Dancing...Part One

Dancing is like second nature to me.

Look for the woman wearing a brightly colored dress in the middle of the dance floor.  Yep...that's me! Shaking absurdly, It often looks as if I have an electrical current flowing through my veins.

Electricity pulses through my body as I hear the music.  Immediately getting goosebumps, my limbs begin to move to the music.  Putting on a song,  I shiver when I hear the familiar strains of salsa, merengue, bachata, reggaetón, cumbia or tango. I put on my high heels. I slink into a sexy dress. I begin to dance around my living room. I look amazing, dancing by myself, with my inner Latina Goddess rhythm.

I first discovered Latin music as a child. Actually, I shouldn't say that I "discovered" it.  It was actually played incessantly throughout my childhood in Kansas on my dad's tape decks and record player.

My father, being Ecuadorean, usually played the music of his youth.  These were countless tangos by Gardel from Argentina,



 or cumbias by Lisandro Meza from Colombia,





or salsa by Celia Cruz from Cuba,




or merengues by Johnny Ventura from the Dominican Republic.





 He would put on his records and my sister Ro* and I would dance around the living room, in no particular fashion. The music moved us, as if we were marionettes held by invisible strings and our imaginary puppeteer maneuvered us through the room. My dolls would twirl in my arms as I danced.

As a child, I had no idea that there were sub-genres of Latin music. I thought it was all the same because they sang in Spanish.  It wasn't until I was older that I realized the differences in the music, therefore there would be an obvious difference with the style of dance.

By the time I came into existence in the early 1980s,  my parents were pretty much homebodies, having exhausted themselves in the 1970s to K.C. and the Sunshine Band and other forms of pop music.  They were quite content to watch the occasional Brasilian or Italian soap opera, or to read through the occasional stack of books from the library. The few family get-togethers that we attended including a mix of American music as well, like Donna Summer or Blondie, etc.

I didn't really learn how to really dance to Latin music until I turned 17. I was at a baptism for someone whose name that I don't even remember.  What I do remember is that they were Mexican and they played Mariachi music.  I don't mind listening to Mariachi music at all. They're actually kind of entertaining, with their big sombreros, their little costumes and them strumming on their guitars or honking their trumpets. Anytime I listen to mariachi music, I keep waiting for my chips and salsa to magically appear in front of me.

As I've mentioned before in previous blogs, my family make-up has allowed me to appreciate music of all genres from different countries. But listening to Mariachi music ALL NIGHT makes you appreciate a mix of other kinds of music after a long while.

They finally put on a merengue.  My dad said, "La saco para bailar."  Meaning, "I'm going to take her out on the floor for a spin"  (Keep in mind for those of you that think I've translated that phrase literally, get off the translation websites. They won't do you much good.)

I didn't get the moves correct, but my dad was patient with me for once.

Since that night when my dad took me out for a spin, I have had an insatiable hunger for Latin music and dance.

When I moved to Florida about 10 years ago, I didn't know a single soul.  To pay the bills and also to meet people, I worked at a small Cuban restaurant in Saint Augustine, FL as their "Hostess Extraordinaire", a moniker coined by the flamboyantly gay bartender, Moranti.   On Fridays and Saturdays, they had a live band that consisted of a guitarist, a congo player, a piano player, a saxophonist, a trumpeter and a singer. They had an open floor towards the stage and dancing would occur.

The Conga Player/Sometimes-Guitarist, was the owner's son who I shall refer to as "Junior", noticed me immediately. He began to teach me a few things here and there, initiating me into many things that could be considered useful & good, but some things most definitely not good.  He first noticed that I was a terrible dance partner.

"Baby, you have let the man lead!" he would yell at me.

I thought I was doing well, but apparently, any time he took me for a spin on the dance floor, it was just a jumble of arms, legs and footwork.  I looked like one of those twisty dolls with wire legs.

How was I supposed to know?  He was supposed to be teaching me how to dance upright on the dance floor.

In any case, once I dumped him, I began to go out with some of my friends that I had met in my Spanish classes at school.  To spare them from seeing their real names, I have affectionately bestowed upon them some nicknames.

Toaster Over and Squeak Rodriguez were two girls that I met at Flagler College during 2004-2006.

I met Toaster Over first.

We both were in a Spanish 101 class. I had no idea WHY I was even there. Didn't they know I was already a Spanish speaker? I was such a snob with such big ideas then.  Ha Ha!  It turns out that I would have to test out of Spanish 101 into the higher levels.

I mentioned this to a bunch of the other students there in my class. It was the second day of classes.

Toaster Oven immediately overheard me telling the others my plan.  She turned to me and said, "I have an aunt that is Puerto Rican. I love practicing Spanish with her. I should test out of this class, too."

I remember looking at this petite girl with wild auburn hair and thinking, "There is NO WAY that some little red-headed American is going to test out of this class and I'm stuck here!  Hell no!"

We both tested out of Spanish 101.  I placed higher, for Spanish 301, but since I had only grown up speaking Spanish, I wanted some of the grammar that I had missed. I had already taken French and Portuguese in high school and in junior college, respectively.  We both ended up in Spanish 201.

Throughout the year, Toaster Oven and I would collaborate on projects together. One such project had something to do with music.  She came over to my dorm room to work on our powerpoint together.  When she discovered that I had over 5000 songs on my laptop, she realized two things: A) I was cool because I had an iBook and B) I had lots of fun music that included lots of Latin music.

Thus began a friendship that continues to this day. Our project, which sadly has disappeared for lack of jump drives or the disappearance thereof, discussed the different genres of Latin music such as Son, Mambo, Merengue, Salsa, Bachata, Reggaetón, Tango and Cumbia, to name a few.

Over the summer in 2005, Toaster Oven went to Costa Rica for a study abroad trip and became close with one of the other girls on the trip, Squeak Rodriguez.

Now, I had seen Squeak Rodriguez before in some of my other classes during 2004-05.  She had been in my Intro to Mesoamerica class on Wednesday nights and in one other class that was as boring as the hills.  However, we never spoke to each other because A) I was oblivious to others because I was working four jobs at the same time and had no time to really socialize after class and B) I think she was shy or intimidated to approach a girl with pink hair.

Meanwhile, once school started back up in the fall, I kept my usual bump-n-grind of jobs.  One Saturday night, I was at home which never happened. I usually kept busy working my derriere morning, noon and night when I didn't have class, typically working all seven days of the week.  I get a phone call from a number I didn't recognize. I pick up and it's Toaster Oven!  "Ren! Do you want to go to Orlando with me tonight?" she asked.

What's in Orlando, other than Disney?

She explained that she was going to be meeting her friend in Orlando to go out dancing. She also explained that this was someone that she went to Costa Rica with over the summer, blah blah blah.

We ended up going to City Walk at Universal Studios.

They have a place, or at least, they used to if it's not still there, called "The Latin Quarter".  It's a restaurant that converts into a club after 9 p.m..  Food is great, music is great...it's amazing!

The friend we ended up meeting was none other than Squeak Rodriguez!

The three of us ended up having a great time with one another dancing all night long. Thus began a Three Musketeers type of friendship that also continues to this day.

Every weekend, without fail, the three of us would go to any place in the area that played Latin music.  We would go as far as Orlando, which was about an hour and fifteen minute drive on some Saturdays.  On Fridays, we'd drive up to Jacksonville and go to Havana Jax to dance all night long.

We'd get ready at each other's houses and leave early, around 9 p.m. as the clubs in North Florida close at 2 a.m..

The first time I went to Havana Jax on Atlantic Blvd., I was a disaster. The Girlies could hear me squealing with laughter when I'd mess up majorly with my dance partners.  But I wanted to be a better dancer and meet people, make friends, etc. I'd keep going to improve my dancing skills. On Thursdays, we'd go to the now defunct Twisted Martini, at the Jacksonville Landing. I miss that place. The bartenders, bouncers and DJ even knew who we were. We even made Dancing Friends with various males who would go to dance there. I still keep in touch with several of those guys today. :)

One thing I discovered after the age of 17 is that there are not only different genres, but also different styles of dance within that genre of dance.  There is Cuban style Salsa. There is Costa Rican style Cumbia. There is Dominican style Bachata.  There is a myriad of different styles and it's hard to keep up.  There are way more I could list here, but the list would be exhaustive.

My Ex and I met coincidentally at Havana Jax one night after having danced with the Girlies in 2006.  He constantly criticized my way of dancing, stating it was difficult to dance with me.  It was difficult to dance with him!  He would turn me left or right in the middle of a beat and then I'd tornado myself into the wall or people.



  It was awful. It's easy to blame people for their lack of leading skills, but I have to say he didn't know how to lead me very well.  We did dance bachata well together when we were a couple. I guess it's just as well that we are no longer together, whether it be for couple or dancing reasons. LOL.

Since I am also musically inclined, I keep track of the beats with my feet or my hands. I don't need to count them, as others do. Of course, if there's a fast tempo, I step up the pace...literally. I once went out dancing with The Girlies and there was a dance class.  One guy grabbed my hand and began dancing. The music was fast paced and my legs and hips immediately began to step in tempo with the beat. Well, the poor man counted aloud, slowly. I asked him what he was doing and he responded that he was trying to count on the ball change. I looked at him like he was nuts. I'm not a classically trained dancer. This is the part that is difficult for me. Trying to follow someone's lead when they're counting slowly against the beat is difficult.  More like, disastrous.

I think it's important that when there is a woman who is dancing with her male dance partner, that the man KNOW how to lead. Nothing sucks more than dancing with someone who can't lead.  I am the type of dancer who did not have professional instruction as I was learning. Therefore, I need a strong partner who knows what he is doing.

Stay posted for the next installment.

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