Wednesday, 28 April 2010

Dance à la Paris

My dancing feet getting ready to leave for class.

The other day I decided to take a dance class in Paris. In my former life I was a dancer. Now as a slightly clumsy adult I still love to take class for the pure joy of it. I hooked up with a girl I met through my friend and we headed over together. It was a wonderful day, we wandered around, stopped at a park, got lost and laughed through the whole debacle.

When we got to the studio I immediately loved the vibe. The sounds of different types of music from all over the world pouring out of every studio door. Peeking in to find people full of sweat dancing their little butts off. I just love the dance culture. It's not always this laid back and free but when it is it is electrifying! We initially were going to take an african dance class but by the time we arrived the only class that was available was a dance hall reggae class! I laughed and said "okay, why not I'll try it!" The class was starting right then so after I registered I just ripped off my skirt (I was wearing my leotard and tights underneath) and jumped in.

The class was too much fun. It was wild, at one point the teacher turned off all the lights and had a colored disco ball- like contraption going which made everyone feel like they were at a dance party! Hahaha It was so funny. I could not stop smiling the whole time if not openly laughing at myself in my little leotard and tights hitting these hard dance hall beats, not always exactly correctly I might add.

As I was leaving I thanked the teacher for a great class with a simple "Merçi Beaucoup!". He pulled me aside and began to speak to me in his perfect, fast and unfortunately indecipherable to me French. I excused myself and said in my not so perfect, slow and probably equally indecipherable French "Désolé, Je ne parle pas Français..." He looked at me with utter surprise and said in English "WHAT?? You don't speak French? How did you know what I was saying? How did you take corrections when I told you?" I again whipped out my sad and unfortunate French and said "Je ne parle pas Français Monsieur, mais Je parle Danse!" He laughed and gave me a wink and said "please come back again". I blushed and told him "Bien sûr"!

And that is the beauty of dance. I didn't really need to know what everyone was saying... I let my instincts take over and just kind of moved collectively with the music and the other dancers. It was a freeing and wonderful feeling and I can't wait to go back! and I will! Just as soon as my legs heal from their INSANE soreness.....

"Live, Love, Laugh and DANCE!!

Gros Bisous!
~taryn xx

1 comment:

Gina said...

It's a wonderful, Parisian life!