Dancing Queen

Here's my side of the Week End Charter about Dancing. Put your heels on, ladies, we're going to Cuba! Oh, and sorry about the mistakes, I was late for the flight, and Sandrine took an actual one to Italy.

There is always, always, a time to dance (thank you, Niko). I once made the vow to go dancing at least once a month. That was a few years ago. I never kept my promise. Last time I danced was, hold on a little, well, I can't even remember. At some New year's eve, I guess, but I can't seem to remember which year it was.

Last Thursday, I went dancing. I went to an actual club, even better, a Latino club. With Salsa, Merengue, Pachanga, girls twirling, guys moving their hips: heaven on earth.

When I lived in Cuba, I took dancing lessons. There were three of us, all expats, trying not to die of boredom, and we convinced the hotel manager that it was good for us and for the dancers. We had a two-hour lesson three times a week. The first few sessions were not that good. We changed partners, tried every combination and even fought a little. After a little while, we managed to find our partner. I never changed for six months. I think that guy, who never touched me outside of a dance floor, is probably the man who knows me best, who could tell how I felt the minute he laid his hands on my body. Dancing does that to you. Especially Salsa. Bodies talk to each other. He never taught me the names of the moves, one look, one light touch on my back and I knew what to do. It came so naturally, he said I could have been Cuban. How sweet of him. There is another story behind that one, but as a dear friend of mine promised me he'd write it someday, I'll let him do it.

Last Thursday, I realized I hadn't danced the Salsa for nine years. That's a long time. Dancing is, to me, as essential as singing. And strangely enough, I tend to forget this, which means that I stop dancing and singing for ages, until I feel the urge to sing or dance, and nothing can stop me. When we got to the club, it was empty. A couple started dancing, they were great. They seemed to be floating on the floor. I danced a little with my friend, realized I'd lost all my moves, and even almost fell. The music changed, I danced on my own a little, closed my eyes and just felt the music. I went out for a cigarette, and when I came back inside, the amazing dancer grabbed my arm and said to me "I can see you know how to move, you just forgot, come with me". I was scared to death, but I said yes. And we danced. At first I was clumsy, but I just followed his lead, and I felt like I was flying.

I never had the chance to sit again for the next few hours, I was always grabbed by some dancer and I enjoyed myself like I hadn't in a long time.

I vow to go dancing at least once a month. If I don't report on it and if I don't have proper proof, shoot me between the eyes. You'll be my witnesses, and thanks to you, I'll go dancing again.

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