And the instructor quickly realized that I rock-stopped instead of triple-stepping and that I had no idea what he was instructing me to do. But I learned to recognize the numbers 1-8 in Norwegian. And when he danced with me he realized I could follow a dancer, just not verbal cues. He even switched over to swing dance for a bit and laughed at my ear-to-ear grin.
Four days later we came back for free dance. And again for lessons. And by now people recognized me. It didn't matter much if I couldn't follow the conversations, I was greeted with smiles and included in the dancing. There was the lead that teased me about stepping back when I should go forward. The ones who laughed at my inability to count properly for set routines. The young couple who danced lindy hop in the corner. The teenager who answered my "sorry...can you speak English?" response to her rapid Norwegian introduction with, "yeah! I'm American. Lived in Utah until recently." The boy my age who joked that I knew all the music (duh, 50s and 60s classics). And the quiet Englishman who danced so well that I felt like we'd had a conversation with every dance.
It made me feel even more lonely the first time I went to free dance. To dance and know you can dance better. To hear songs like "Only the Good Die Young" and remember dancing on the grass outside in the summer with friends. To start a charleston move and relax (I know this!") only to realize it was a sequence and I had messed up the rest of it. To think about the many many many nights of dancing at Middlebury and wonder where all those friends are now and when I'll have a group that fun loving again.
Choo Choo -- my adventure in learning choreography in 24 hours. Luckily it was a great group and they helped me a lot...
In the Mood -- I smile whenever I hear this song
But maybe dance groups make good families. Because while I left one behind at Midd, I seem to have stumbled into another one.
This week, I have been the follow for a private dance class. A gentleman is taking classes to surprise his girlfriend, and they needed a follow to practice with. My host had agreed to help, but found herself needing to take care of a grandchild and asked me to fill in. I walked myself over to the studio, smiled encouragingly, and proceeded to practice spinning for an hour. It was actually helpful that I don't speak Norwegian - I couldn't accidentally back lead because I didn't know what we were practicing. Instead, the gentleman was forced to lead well. And the best bit of all was that when the instructor realized I had done a few aerials before he showed me a few new ones! And he asked me to come back two days later to help with the next lesson.
I walked back in the next day for boogie woogie class. A smile and a hand on the shoulder from the instructor.
"It's good to see you again"
"Have you moved to Bergen for real yet?"
Friends! Friends! I made friends! I felt like dancing; clearly I was in the right spot. And it continued - they joked with me all through class. This was what I wanted from my stay in Bergen, this feeling that for a little bit I wasn't just passing through, but had a life here.
The next day, my last day of dancing in Bergen, I spun my way through another private lesson. I smiled and tried to follow descriptions in Norwegian of analogies between types of dance and different martial arts. Between frame and filling a cup of water (I think, this one never was translated). Between leading a dance and driving a car. Somewhere in the car analogy there was a comparison between different cars and different types of follows. I think it was supposed to explain how some women back lead, or tend to do certain moves, or have trouble counting, but I lost track of the conversation amidst the laughter and jokes. But I looked up when I saw them gesture at me...
"...but she, she is a very good dancer. She is a black ferrari."
No comments:
Post a Comment