My saturday afternoon

During the first year of university I was on the ballroom dance team. The chacha was our favorite but I figured cuban Salsa couldn't be too different. After several weeks of failed attempts to go to retro dancing with a friend, we finally made it out. Both of us were late but at least we got there.

The way home (metro) closes by 2:30am

For 13€ I got a coat check, 2 hours of lessons, a drink, and the option of dancing until four in the morning. The first hour of lessons was comfortable. As the second hour began and the number of salsa hopefuls doubled, the instructor asked the débutants to move to another dance floor and to respect the work of the intermédiaires. Having watched others who were descending miss the most basic steps, I decidedly kept my place…until the second turn. 2 minutes later, I was at the floor with the other débutants.

That the evening, I discovered I am not the fabulous dancer I'd hoped. My friend, however, is a fantastic salsa dancer, one of those good-natured guys that guides you around with deft movements and smiles 'till afterwards you feel like you were the talent. I always remembered my true colors coming out of a series of turns. I could never remember what count we'd been on.