Thursday
Nights @ Ryles!
From Stuff@Night
Feb 3-16, 1998
"Close Encounters", p 25
Muy caliente!
Tired of dancing 10 feet away from your partner? ALICIA
POTTER finds salsa offers the perfect opportunity to
get close and generate some heat. ERIC ANTONIOU snaps
the action.
At Upstairs at Ryles,
in Cambridge, conversation stops
abruptly and all eyes fix on the slim, springly man
at the front of the room . Jaws drop. Raul Nieves is
swiveling his hips. The dance instructor's undulations
are so fluid, so smooth, it's hard not to stare at places
one usually doesn't stare at.
"Oonka-ha! Oonka-ha!" he chants. Nieves is
limbering up to teach an advanced salsa class, a popular
offering at the club's cayenne-hot Temporada Latin night
on Thursdays.
Nieves puts the needle to the record, and a calypso
pulse of horns, bongos, congas, and timbales sends his
pelvis into overdrive. He hops to the stage, smiles
broadly, and trills, "Are you ready to Mambo?"
Oonka-ha! His 20-odd students of all ages take to the
small dance floor. They whirl and swivel, all the while
watching the infallible metronome of their instructor's
hips. "Yes!" Nieves cries.
But what about those poor souls who think salsa's just
something you dip your chips in? No problemo. Temporada
Latina (smoke free, 21 plus, $10 cover) is not only
for salsa aficionados. Following the advanced class
which begins at 8:30, is a beginner class at 9.
The beginner class is more this senorita's speed. As
Nieves salsas with the experienceddancers, instructor
Suzanne Steele gathers us--about 50 students--for a
crash course on the basics. First, we mimic Steele's
sensual swivel. Then, we try with partners. "Oonka-ha,"
we murmur. "Oonka-ha."
We add a step, practice, and then switch partners (a
good girl-to-guy ratio lets friends go together without
dates). Feminism flies out the window--I am quite happy
to let my partners lead. As a result, I graze only three
ankles and elbow two rib cages. I think I've got it!
Steele explains salsa's crescendoing appeal. "People
don't necessarily want to dance 10 feet away from their
partner with 10 people in-between," she say, describing
most clubgoers' typical night out. "With salsa,
you have physical contact, but there's none of the stiffness
of ballroom dancing."
In fact, despite the pedagogical focus, Temporada Latino
couldn't be any looser. At 10, the lessons halt and
the house lights dim. It's open dance time. A DJ spins
the beats, and a disco ball dapples the ceiling with
scarlet. A steady crowd of regulars starts filing in,
stomping snow from thier shoes or kicking off boots
for sexy heels.
An hour later, the room's packed shoulder to shoulder;
couples spill off the dance floor. The more experienced
dancers like Bolivians William and Edith Mahin strut
their stuff next to novices like Paolo Rocchietta, 25,
and Rebecca William, 22, who at first do more talking
than dancing but eventually find their groove. "It
may be cold outside, but this generates some heat,"
Rocchietta tells me.
Suddenly, I learn just how much. Nieves beckons me.
I protest, "Oh no! I'm not ready for you yet!"
But it is too late. His hips swaying almost to his elbows,
he swings me, he twirls me, he whirls me across the
room. "My hips hurt!" I shout above the beat
as I try to keep up.
"Relax, " he says. "your hips are the
ocean; your ribs are the atmosphere." If this is
true, I am an environmental disaster.
Nieves presses his body to mine and growls, "I
love the element of danger." He lets out a whoop.
He spins me some more, and the crowd blurs around me.
I almost--almost--let out a whoop myself but I am distracted
by my shortsighted decision to eat black beans for dinner.
The song stops. I am breathless, sweaty, dizzy. As I
pant my thanks to Nieves, I can't help but realize that,
in spite of my churning stomach, I also feel very, well,
womanly.
Steel was right. She had warned me that the magic of
salsa in not what it brings out between partners, but
what it brings out in a the individual. Never mind a
beer, a rose between my teeth sounds perfect about now.
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