Onde está o meu ritmo?

I have always known that I am a terrible dancer. No matter how hard I try, once the music turns on my body freezes, my hips glue in place and my arms never seem to know the proper direction to swing. But there was no better way to confirm my lack of dancing skills than by visiting a Brazilian "discoteca."



Last night upon returning to my house from a night of futsal, I noticed a student of Rachel's was parked outside the house. "We are going to the disco, want to come?" Rafaela asked, speaking slowly and practicing her English skills. "Well, I just got back from futsal and I am sweaty," I replied gesturing to the sweat beads glistening down my forehead. "We will wait," she replied.

I 

I rushed inside to change out of my soccer clothes, and in a matter of five minutes we were off. We went to a local bar to meet up with some of Rafaela's friends first for a few drinks, since apparently in Brazil, people do not go to the discos until 1am. Lins is a very small town with a slim selection of bars, so imagine my surprise when I walked into the bar and the first person to spot me was one of my students. "Hello, teacher" he said, as he gestured towards his fellow classmates sitting at a table in the distance, who were eagerly onlooking our exchange. "Oi, Bruno" I replied with a smile, pretending not to notice the beer in his 17-year-old hand.

After spending a few hours eating my fourth meal of the day, we made our way to the disco. On the way Rafaela informed us that it would be salsa night at the disco. Just my luck...

Walking into the disco I didn't feel too much out of place since a good portion of the girls had dyed their hair blonde and were about the same height as me due to their 3 inch heels. It wasn't until reaching the dance floor that I remembered I was in Brazil.

Rafaela tried her best to teach Rachel and I how to salsa. Rachel seemed to pick it up right away, while I struggled to find my rhythm (which I have been missing for years), and ended up looking as if I were doing soccer moves in the middle of the dance floor. Lucky for me, with the disco lights glaring and the fog covering the dance floor, it was difficult to see anything except those closest to you. I prayed that none of my students were in the crowd to witness my massacre of Brazilian salsa music.

I danced for an hour or so before making the conscious decision to sit amongst the men and leave the dancing to those who knew how...Perhaps one day I will try again, but for now I'll stick to soccer...