Highlights

[emsk]

This weekend has absolutely been the highlight of my year. Congress was amazing last year too – and this year was better. I’m a better dancer now, I know more people, I’m more confident; ergo I had a better time.

It helps that I managed to get down to 15 kilograms lost just before I flew out. I’m pretty damned happy with that.

This even though I’m sick as a dog. I went to the GP Thursday morning before I flew out, who gave me prednisone and refilled my asthma inhalers, antibiotics, and pseudoephedrine for the combination sinus/asthma/lung/something viral slash infection I had going on. And still gave me clearance to go to Congress! So I’ve been feeling less than flash hot but screw it, I had an amazing time anyway.

Zouk immersion was largely technique, which is exactly what I need as a dancer right now. I have a decent stash of moves; what I need is to be a better follower, a more responsive dancer, to kick my own abilities up another notch. Always striving to be a little better than I am.

Then workshops, parties, more workshops, more parties, dinner, alcohol, random chitchat with people. Our performance on the Friday was… well, personally I felt utterly shit about it, my shoes were sticking to the dance floor, my hairclip caught in my partner’s top, I just didn’t feel good about it at all. But the feedback from other people was good, so maybe it wasn’t as royally shite as I felt. There’s a couple of lovely photos, which my mother will be pleased to have, and there’s even one of me dancing bachata wearing the racktastic red dress on Saturday night. Then on Sunday I screwed up my courage, asked for – and had – a dance with one of the international instructors, followed by possibly the best dance I’ve ever had with my own instructor.

Then on Monday night, sitting in the hotel lobby waiting for shuttles to the airport, generally talking and gossiping and such, I decided to ask if I could play the grand piano. The hotel staff were fine with that, so I wandered over, sat down, and started playing. Comptine d’un autre été : L’Après-midi, from the score to Amelie. It’s my standard “this is an unknown piano” piece – it’s deceptively simple, and gives me time to get a feel for the instrument.

Then I became aware of a stunned silence – absolute breath-holding, you could drop a pin, silence – and looked up from the keys. Amongst the people crashed out on the lobby couches were two of NZ’s best tango dancers – amazing, amazing dancers, and wonderfully lovely people. And they’d started to tango around the piano, to my playing. It was the most magical, spontaneous, amazing moment.



(That’s my dance instructor standing behind me. What you can’t see is the stunned-mullet expression on his face. “You never, ever told us you could do THIS.”)