Way out West

Monday night I ventured forth from my temporary SoCal residence to take a class at a local studio. After my experience in New York in July, I was nervous. Not that it is bad to be challenged, but oy vey!

This being let's say the greater LA area, there was, as expected at least one actor (of the female variety) in the class. The other students were a twelve year old girl, an absolutely fantastic Asian woman in her thirties, clearly a professional of some sort, a gray-haired woman in her late fifties or early sixties, skinny as a rail, and me. The older woman (by which I mean, older than I am), had her pointes on. Wow. I thought I was radical, pushing my mid-forties and doing that. I was filled with admiration. And I couldn't help noticing that while no expert, she was pretty darn solid.

The teacher, a woman who by the looks of her has never missed a day at the barre, though she made it clear she's about the same age as the pointe-shoe lady, was like a ballet teacher in a t.v. show about adult ballet; I am imagining this t.v. show, but given the state of reality television and the current vogue for dance-related shows, it won't be long...

I was so stiff and self-conscious at first: what gets into me? The combinations weren't so much difficult as different to what I'm used to getting at home, so I struggled a bit. I looked at the ground, I wobbled: she noticed. I'll say this -- that teacher in New York did not even see me, but this gal was super-attentive. By then end of class I got the sense she had a very clear picture of what all of my failings as a dancer are. But she was generally quite jolly about it.

What was not jolly at all was her final combination: changements, quattres, and royales, as she put it "forever" -- or at least for 64 counts. I really, literally thought I would die. Fortunately, even miss former-professional ballerina struggled with it and the grey-hair and pointe shoes lady ran for her inhaler.

Best combination: a complicated thing with piques that defies description but that really kept the little grey cells going despite its fundamental dancey-ness.

Next up: to try the "Ballet-Booty" fitness class at the nearby yoga outfit.