BODY WATCH : Dirty Dancing : Sliding. Sweating. Turning. It’s not what you think. It’s salsa (the dance, not the dip).
Who’s that lady trying to evacuate her high heel from the cuff of some poor man’s pin-stripes? I don’t have my glasses on, but unfortunately, I think it’s me.
You see, after my most recent breakup, instead of Valium, I took salsa classes. It was one of those pull-yourself-out-of-the-Dumpster moments that led me--by some leap of positive thinking--to fantasize that I’d find a mambo queen hiding inside this sorry sack of single (once again) white female.
Not that I had a clue to the difference between mambo and salsa dancing. But salsa is what they were offering at the Studio of Performing Arts near the Beverly Center, and I figured whatever it was, it had to be more, shall we say, age-specific than moshing.
I should probably mention here that I signed up for “intermediate” because I thought a “beginner” class would be too easy--a mistake that became apparent when I walked into my first session.
Forward, back, pivot, reverse turn. . . . While the rest of the group--a professionally dressed crowd of about 30--was following the teacher in a merengue, smooth as the spooning in a yin-yang symbol, my body seemed to misfire itself into a Cubist crises: hips twisted backward, one eye sliding under an ear in fear, two feet, yes, but both left and already killing me in my stilettos.
“How many of you used to sing ‘won-ton tomato’?” asked the teacher, Laura Canellias, referring to (you guessed it) “Guantanamera,” which was playing over the speakers. I had to laugh. No question, Canellias spiced up the place like a kick of cilantro--all the more impressive since she’d just put in a full day’s work as executive assistant to the vice president of A & R at Rhino Records, and this was her third class of the evening.
Canellias led us through a warm-up of basic steps, from the merengue into the mambo, cha-cha and finally salsa (which, I learned, is the name for what people are doing in the clubs today--same basic steps as mambo, but with a modern twist). She has one of those bubble-pack personalities that makes a satisfying pop of authority when she gives the word.
Somewhere along the way I let myself go. The congas and guitar strings kidnaped me. I felt like yelling, “Look, Ma! I’m dancing!”
By the end of that first half-hour I had a little sweat going--not a step-class drench, but according to the experts, that is possible.
Susan Johnson, director of continuing education at the Cooper Institute for Aerobics Research in Dallas, estimates that a 130-pound person burns between 180 and 360 calories an hour doing salsa. Other experts compare the intensity to swimming or riding a bicycle.
On a competitive level, you’re talking more along the lines of basketball or squash--at least according to a study done at the University of Western Australia, which monitored well-trained couples during Latin dances and found the men working at 85% of their maximum heart rates; the women were at 91%.
Salsa also tones the legs (especially the calves), the low back, abdominals and hip area, said Elizabeth Larkam, director of Dancemedicine Rehabilitation at St. Francis Memorial Hospital, San Francisco. She added that, unlike other activities, salsa “encourages the mobility of the pelvis--something we don’t get in our cars and chairs, in our corporate postures, in our culture in general. And this freedom is really healthy because we are designed to move our pelvises and low backs.”
But salsa’s best benefits, Larkam said, fall under the label of “mind/body fitness”--the Holy Grail of today’s exercise industry. True, after several classes I’d have to say, all that one-two-three-ing equals more than the sum of your anatomical parts.
“It’s not so much the exercise, but the whole combination of music, movement and interacting,” agreed Jeffrey Glaser, 34, a Los Angeles television development executive who started taking classes a year ago. “No matter how tired or down I am, after class I almost always feel better. There’s a spirit to the dancing. It’s passionate.”
He said it, not me. But that brings us to the good stuff.
During the second half-hour of Canellias’ class--when everyone pairs up to learn a combination of steps and turns--it’s a golden opportunity to burn off fat cells and sexual frustration in the same fell hip-swivel. (There are usually a few more men than women--that’s definitely a beautiful thing if you’re on the demand side.)
Of course, there’s no getting around the fact that this is a testosterone dance. He leads, period. During one lesson, Canellias stops to demonstrate this very point. “The man has to push the woman to show her what to do, and the woman has to resist . . . a little,” she says turning to the female contingent with a wink of her Cuba libre eyes. “But we know how to do that, don’t we?”
Sure we do. Come right down to it, salsa is one of the best forms of safe sex around. You can get a major dose of flirtatious energy with no complications. After the dance, you just go home.
Perhaps that explains in part why salsa is so hot-hot-hot these days. “In the last year or two, it has definitely become more popular,” said Studio of Performing Arts owner Michael Lipson, noting that Canellias started teaching there six years ago with only six to eight students. “We have four levels now and we keep adding classes. It’s also really growing out in the clubs.”
In fact, more clubs are hosting Latin nights with a dance lesson included in the price of the cover--Rudolpho’s in Silver Lake (where Canellias also teaches), Grand Avenue and the Mayan in Downtown, Sportsman’s Lodge in the San Fernando Valley, Renaissance and St. Mark’s on the Westside, just to name a few.
Well, I’m not quite ready to brave the club scene yet--but soon. For now, my sights are set on learning the bolero.
“That’s the slow dance where he asks you for your telephone number,” Canellias said. “I teach it in my advanced class. You’ll be less inhibited by then.”
Where do I sign up?
