So it’s been a minute, nearly two weeks in fact, and I’ve got next to no excuse. The best I can come up with is that I’ve been busy and tired but that’s no excuse–that’s just regularly scheduled programming. But if you really must have a reason, I suppose my best explanation would be that I managed to actually have a social life, outside of my dance life even! Ground breaking, I know!

So let’s head back to the first week of this two week saga with a handy little bit of MTA headache. MTA raised their monthly pass prices, so my tax free transit pass provided through my work was late, and since my tragic de-magging incident of a few months ago, I was in need of a new card, sooner rather than later. I suppose I could have bought a 7 day pass, but I was optimistic that my card would appear within a day or two, so I elected to approach the problem in a very Brittney fashion. At 7am precisely, I set out to work—on foot. I do love the walk across the Manhattan Bridge, especially first thing in the morning when there’s nearly no one out there with me. I’m less fond of waking up at 6:30am, but something has to give.

After work, I headed back across the bridge to fit in my daily yoga commitment and a smidge of rest before I hit the streets again, this time up to Westie Cafe. Again, I love walking in Manhattan and it does wonders for my mental health, but my body had some opinions about a sudden commitment to about two and a half hours of speed walking on pavement. Fortunately, my body is used to obliging my bizarre whims so it pulled itself together and enjoyed the scenery. The scenery for its part was delightful with lights just flickering on, and a lovely dichotomy of fatherhood and gangster rap in the form of a street vending father schlepping his heavy cart of merchandise up Broadway to the strains of impressively graphic and aggressive gangster rap, while his young son diligently darted along on the sidewalk keeping pace and visually checking in at every corner. I was genuinely impressed but the father’s fortitude as even pushing a heavy cart at a slight incline, he kept pace with my power walk for block after block before eventually turning off onto a side street.

Once I actually made it to the dance, I found myself in a very solid night at Westie Cafe with a good showing my most of the usual subjects. You’ll be pleased to hear that I’m not such an idiot that I would walk home 50min at 12:30am on a weeknight. Instead, I irritably bought a single ride ticket and made my way back to the Lower East Side.

The following morning, I was up and out of the house by 7am again, enjoying my sleepy schlep across the bridge as best I could. I had every intention of walking home, but as the weather turned and our planned weekend of field work got delayed again, I just couldn’t face 40 minutes in the rain so I handed over a bit more of my money to the MTA and caught a train. My obnoxiously sensitive body was having a mood (possibly related to a little less sleep and a lot more walking), so once I put it through the daily yoga, I elected to just let it rest and spent the night reading and resting. Thank goodness for lazy Thursdays.

Come Friday, my cantankerous body was still full of unhelpful opinions and and decidedly empty of thermoregulation. As I sweated and shivered my way through the afternoon, my boss suggested that, since we weren’t doing our field work that weekend anyway, I might just go home a bit early. So about an hour earlier than expected, I headed home (by train) and almost immediately passed out. Three and a half hours later, I rolled out of bed and headed out into the drizzle to get some groceries. Turns out Trader Joe’s soy American cheese is actually pretty passable in a grilled cheese. As I was fairly convinced that I was on the edge of a cold, I spent the rest of my evening mostly resting and reading with only a short interlude for eh daily yoga adventure.

Saturday morning started with a nice homemade breakfast featuring egg, avocado, and salmon. Yes, salmon. I know I’ve been vegging fairly effectively for over a year now, but I worry about DHA deficits so I decided to add a touch of fish to my life. It was quite tasty, but not as tasty as I might have anticipated, so perhaps I’m losing my taste for fish as well. I’m not all that bothered though because I really am convinced that small as my impact may be, a little less fishing and a little less factory farming can only be a benefit—minimal as it may be.

Once fed, I wandered up to the Square for a bit of broga. I so love the challenge of it, even when I’m tired, and especially when I’m stressed. After yoga, it was back home to bake up another batch of granola. I elected to attempt sweetener free and I clearly have not yet quite figured out the magic of that one. The current batch of granola is rather gummed together by my blend of tahini and coconut oil. It’s still rather crisp in a way, but not the least bit dry. If anyone has a favourite sugar free granola recipe, toss it my way? I’d greatly appreciate it.

I spent the rest of my afternoon catching up on miscellaneous life admin, before heading uptown to man the door at Saturday Westie and even do a bit of dancing. It was a lovely night of food, drinks, friends, and dance and it even ended early enough (around midnight) that I was able to get home and get a touch of sleep before Sunday.

Thanks to the aforementioned sleep, I managed to get myself out of bed early enough on Sunday morning to make myself a breakfast of crepes and even lounge around a bit before catching a train up to Ailey for Lastics. Between Lastics and contemporary, I settled into my favourite nearby cafe, Fika, with a large hot chocolate (which was delicious by the way) and read. I’m so enjoying making more time for reading again. At present I am reading the autobiography of African American modern dancer, Halifu Osumare, and am learning so much not just about dance but also the last 60 years of American socio-political history. 10/10 would recommend.

An hour and a half later, I was back at Ailey for contemporary and who should I see there? Well first, I ran into one of my westie friends just leaving a hip hop class, and then as I plopped myself down on the studio floor to stretch, I saw two of my salsa teammates saunter in. It was fun having friend in class with me for the first time in a very long while and the choreography was very jazzy and energetic (Erica was subbing for Chris).

Fortunately, after my dancey day at Ailey, the daily yoga was deliciously low key. I’m really enjoying the commitment, but I was reaching the edges of my ability to both dance and to high intensity yoga. I know it’ll make me stronger, but I’d wager that in my current rather run down state (thanks noisy–but deeply wonderful–neighbourhood), I should maybe take it all a bit more gently. Take a moment to contemplate how likely that might be. Supporting evidence follows immediately.

After some tea and dinner, I jumped back on a train and made my way up to Stepping Out Studios for my first LVG in absolutely ages. I really do need to get back into it because it may be the best social in the city. The calibre of dancers is high, the music is excellent, the floor is good, and I usually get to see all my favourite salsa people there. This was no exception. As a delightful bonus, I also met another delightfully deft dancer who with perfect timing and an uncanny understanding of my weight change and movement, seemed to make magic happen with little more than a flick of a finger. I suspect that a strong core also contributes, but regardless it was heaven. I don’t need big flashy moves, in fact, I’d prefer a lot less of them, but I love the magic of truly connected, intensely ergonomic dance that leaves you more invigorated than tired when you step off the floor. If you are imagining that I now have a new friend, however, you’ve grievously underestimated my inability to impose upon people by attempting to get to know them at a busy dance event. Please resist explaining to me how silly that is. I know.

And then suddenly it was Monday and a blog was not to be written. I spent slightly more than my standard hour with my reading buddy before heading back to the city. I had intended to catch a talk immediately after, but I would have had to leave reading at exactly 6pm to make it in time, so I elected to skip. In theory I could have used my newly found time to blog to you, and I did start an outline, but then life happened and I ended up faffing about fairly effectively all the way up until it was time to go to Ripley. Yes, it was another Karel Flores class and this time we worked! Maybe Pearl just had better AC but I feel like maybe the last round really was a little slower, because this time I was soaked in sweat and thoroughly exhausted—exactly as I expect to be after a Karel class.

I honestly, don’t think I’ve taken New York for granted for even a day, because even if I wanted to, then I take class with a world famous dancer, or see the Chrysler building peeking around a corner and my heart leaps into my throat and all I can think is “how in the hell did I get lucky enough to be here?” This sentiment would be a very prominent theme this past week.

On Tuesday, I raced home to do a batch of laundry before making my way up to a more northerly Ripley for rehearsal. We were very short handed, but that short-handedness put us in the enviable position of being able to collaborative play with concepts for staging and performance of our current piece. I’ve loved this piece since day one, but now I’m really starting to see how it’s going to come together and I am so damn excited! I’ve never performed a piece that has made me emote so deeply and so wholly—I only hope I can do it justice.

As many of us are working through some fairly significant “things” in our lives right now, rehearsal ended with the four of us descending from the studio and right into Guantanamera. We did check the cheaper Mexican restaurant on the other side of the studio but they were already at last call, so Guantanamera it was. It would prove to be an excellent choice.

There was live music played by none other than the band leader and saxophonist from Carmen (the show that Isa is currently in) along with a conguero and a bassist who were no slouches either. I forget how easy it is to find world class live music in this city, and I really shouldn’t because there is nothing like a fantastic live band to really put the fire back into my heart and the life back into my eyes, and this group did even more than that. The band leader was a magnificent musician and, rather atypically for a latin band, a woman. She was a wizard on the keys and had the voice of an angel only more seductive and enticing. It reminded me of the best kind of bossa nova, curling around you like cigar smoke, but still clear and bright as crystal. The rest of the band was also excellent and delightfully enough represented the full complement fo my favourite salsa instruments: conga, bass, trombone, and piano.

And when thought it couldn’t get any better, they called a singer and a pianist out of the audience to join them on stage. Only in New York could you find such a spectacular Brazilian vocalist and what I assume was a virtuous jazz pianist, just hanging out in a small latin bar on a random Tuesday night. They really were fantastic and not just because of their musical skill, but also their performance values. I just can’t begin to express how magic it feels when you realize that you’re surrounded by such a feast of the world’s best and brightest and boldest here in this big, old city.

I would have honestly been more than happy to leave it at that as we danced along to the band’s closing rendition of Guantanamera (after returning to the original cast of characters), but it got even better. Perhaps because we were up dancing and the four tables left full were all raptly attentive, but the owner decided to pay for another set. I won’t tell you how late I went to bed, but I will tell you that I went to be incandescently happy, with a heart so full of friendship, inspiration, and music.

Wednesday would have been another good day to write to you all, but of course I’m full of excuses. Right after work, I found myself reading with the energizer bunny herself. She’d been tired the week before, but no more! We didn’t necessarily get to put that energy into reading, but it was certainly present, and to be honest, I don’t much mind. She’s a fun kid, and I don’t care if she’s dancing, or standing, or gesticulating, or even sliding down her chair, so long as she’s learning.

Almost immediately after that, I caught an A train to Hells Kitchen, where I met my German friend from my first year in New York at my favourite burger spot the tasty, unpretentious, and vegetarian-friendly, Bareburger. We caught up over burgers and milkshakes followed by cocktails at High Bar, where we found ourselves in the midst of a bachata evening. It’s always nice to catch up with Pia. I really admire her pursuit of an academic career in spite of the social pressures to chase other more traditional goals, and we just seem to get on very well.

On account of an early flight the next morning, we called it a night around 10pm which really should have given me plenty of time to sleep, but my rotten brain decided on a touch of insomnia instead. You see, I’m struggling with my asthma, which means I’m taking more medication, which means that my heart rate is elevated and that seems to only reinforce anxiety and you can see where this is going. It’s not a great situation.

Thursday saw me facing down my favourite part of living in this country: the medical insurance industry. My doctor submitted some test requisitions with the wrong diagnosis code, so my insurer didn’t cover them as it should and now I have to get my doctor to get the lab to resubmit the claim to the insurer with the correct codes and hope that this time my supposedly fully covered annual physical is, in fact, fully covered. It took an hour on the line with the insurer. Yes. An hour. Tomorrow I expect a similar amount of time with my doctor as she’s yet to respond to the email I sent immediately after talking to the insurer. It’s a goddamned delight. And yes, this is something I will not miss when I move back to Canada.

After that frustrating encounter, I headed out to pick up a few groceries via a delightful little morsel from Doughnut Plant. Their latest seasonal yeast doughnut is orange blossom and cashew and it is absolutely divine. If you’re in the city in the next month or so, you should probably get one—they’re worth it.

I returned home from grocery shopping with what should have been plenty of time to write this, but I didn’t. I was just too mentally exhausted to give it the focus it needed, so I did my yoga, read a bit, and then dropped unceremoniously into sleep.

And then, finally, it was Friday! I managed to haul my lazy bum up to Ailey for a very rewarding Horton class which decimated my inadequately strong and insufficiently mobile hips. It was however, an absolute joy to work. I know it’s only beginner, but it feels to wonderful to work on technique and to feel my body growing stronger and more confident even as I sweat and shake. It’s a good time, especially with Karen’s sparkling wit and personality to lead us. Again, how did I get lucky enough to live here and learn from these people?

Saturday morning, despite all my best intentions of breakfast, I fell down an internet rabbit hole and had only enough time to scarf down a small bowl of yogurt and granola before it was time to head out to broga. It would be my very last broga in the city (they don’t run the NYU program over the summer) so I couldn’t possibly miss it. It was as difficult and enjoyable as ever, and I will miss it—greatly.

With a well and truly exhausted body, I made my way back home to do a bit of life admin, work my way through the daily yoga video, and lounge about a bit. I also spent entirely too much time doing and re-doing my nails. I’m so bad for trying to use my hands too soon after painting, but I was off to a house party in Queens that night and I’d decided my nails had to be painted. I probably should have not because no less than two nails were fairly well mangled before I even got to the train, but they looked cute for the all of 30 seconds they lasted before I ruined them.

The party itself, was lovely though! It’s a long journey out to Jackson Heights, but it always proves a worthwhile one. This time I found myself eating delicious tacos, drinking my new favourite grapefruit and ginger beer, and hanging out with some really awesome folks. One of my dance teammates was hosting and I was the only other member of the team who could make it, so I got to spend my evening meeting all manner of new people. They were a very warm and welcoming bunch, which shall have to serve as sufficient explanation for why I left a place an hour from my bed at about 1:30 in the morning. Thank goodness for night trains and 24 hour pizza places to soothe a potentially impending hangover.

Apparently the pizza worked, because I woke up this morning around 10am, relatively bright eyed and bushy tailed, if a bit sleepier then hoped. I showered, scarfed down some breakfast, and headed for Ailey. If I’d known how much time I would end up spending there, I might have rented a place further uptown… But as always the train ride up was entirely worthwhile. In Lastics, the instructor has taken a personal interest in resolving my hip mobility issues and so sits against my back to help give me feedback and push me to use my hips properly in seated forward folds in second, while in Afro Cuban, Noibis remains the most delightful blend of kindness and harshness. He is clear that there will be no perfection, and that he knows we will struggle in his class. He is not mean about it, simply reminds us that, if we want to get it, we have to keep coming to class, staying focussed and working hard, and even then, it’s going to take a while. It answers very well to my own understanding of learning and skill building (especially in dance) and so speaks so many more volumes to me than do the overly enthusiastic complimenters. We’re beginners, we will not be doing it perfectly, and I really respect his honesty about it. And then finally, I hit up contemporary. I had thought that Levi was just subbing, but it seems that he has now taken over the class and, much as I’m very sad to lose my weekly Chris Jackson time, I really can’t be that upset, because Levi is marvellous. He’s soft-spoken and oozes the beauty of breath and artistry in his every move, it truly is art in motion. He’s also very grounded in Horton which means that his contemporary technique is very complimentary to my Friday study. So it was a pretty fantastic afternoon.

I did however make a bit of a miscalculation in terms of fuel, which meant that I might have been feeling rather fainter than desirable when I finally slipped out of the studio. On my way to the train, I stopped by a new vendor in Turnstyle, Tahini. I hadn’t even looked at them before, but that might change. They are nearly as affordable as Mamoun’s and quite certainly as tasty. And they let you change the hummus in your falafel wrap for baba ganoush at no extra cost! They had me at eggplant.

Now I am, as you might have concluded, at home in bed drinking peppermint tea and typing away. I’m not exactly ready to go back to the work week but I also couldn’t have really asked for a better weekend, so I’ll take it.

Tired but happy,
The Salsa Girl