“So, folks, the last dance for today,” announced the DJ, even before the dance couples had come out of the last samba spin, the final swing.
“Eiiiiiiiin … ...” Artful pause. “………..Slowfox!”
“Junk,” grumbled a young man in stylishly frayed jeans and a trendy Bruno Banani shirt. “No one can dance that!”
“Yeah, and as the last dance too,” his partner confirmed angrily, before she, along with most of the other couples, cleared the floor.
In the end, only three couples remained on the dance floor.
Ben had also intended to return to his white wine spritzer, as they had actually planned to go home after the samba. But Marja held him back.
“What do you think? Shall we?”
“Alright,” he conceded. “For your sake.” With a broad grin, he added, “But just don’t forget to lift your heel.”
A running gag that Marja responded to with a jab in his side, before she automatically glided into the standard dance position. Body contact, right hand in his hand, left hand lightly on his upper arm, head tilted to the left.
For a moment, she closed her eyes and her thoughts flew back a few years...
It had been a simple practice evening like today when she had first seen how a slowfox could be danced. No professionals had danced it - just an older couple who harmonized wonderfully and had obviously invested a lot of time to learn this dance.
With sweeping, flowing movements, the two had glided across the dance floor - one with the music, one with each other - a harmonious rise and fall, soft turns, swinging pivots with seemingly effortless ease and velvety grace and refinement.
At first, there had been four couples on the dance floor. In the end, only this couple danced. The usual murmuring had suddenly stopped, and everyone watched their performance. When the song ended, there was spontaneous applause, and the couple had bowed quite embarrassedly.
And Marja, fascinated like the others, had immediately known that this was her dance and that she absolutely wanted to learn it.
The beginnings had not been easy, even though she and Ben were already experienced dancers. Even today, the voice of the dance teacher echoed in her ear:
“Feeeerse … Ballen, Ballen …. Feeeeerse …. Ballen, Ballen, Ballen, Ballen …”
“Lift your heel, Marja! Lift your heel! You’re not trampling through a field! - Gleeeiiiiiiten …”
There was no real basic step like in the other dances, just a fundamental technique, complex figures that must not appear complex, rules that were complicated - English style - turns that had to be lively but must not look that way. Twists that could not appear abrupt, and again and again ….. practice, practice, practice…
Suddenly, Marja was pulled from her memories as the music started, and she promptly messed up the first beat. “Feeerse … Ballen, Ballen,” Ben mocked, but she had already regained her composure. To the rhythm of “Back to Black” and Amy Winehouse’s wonderful voice falling, she glided into the flow, became one with Ben’s movements and one with the music....
She didn’t notice that they were suddenly alone on the dance floor, nor that the murmuring in the hall had fallen silent. Only when the last chord faded, applause erupted around them, and Ben’s hand forced her into an unexpected bow did she realize that people were watching them. Blood rushed to her cheeks. She smiled shyly, but her eyes sparkled.
.......................
Jebel is like Slowfox - complex, without showing the complexity. Lively, yet at ease. With complicated twists and turns that appear fluid and harmonious, Jebel glides across the dance floor.
English understatement!