Flirty Dancing

From bruised beginner to being swept off her feet, Sarah Lochting survives a day in one of Barcelona's side-alley salsa schools.

I have a confession to make: I have two left-feet. On the face of it, that's not much of a crime. But standing in line attempting my first salsa steps in front of a bunch of sniggering strangers. I faced my social execution. They belonged to the enviably coordinated advanced group. Whilst I, along with a handful of fearful-looking first-timers, tripped aver my reel and begged for mercy in the beginners team. I felt five years old and plunged back into the school playground and I didn't like it one bit, My first salsa lesson was almost enough to send me home as fast as my sorry, sore feet could carry me.

My friend and I had been in Barcelona for a few days and, having feasted on Gaudi's fairy-tale delights, lost our way in the Barri Gottic and eaten our weight in tapas, we felt it was time to try something a little different. 'Sampling the culture', the brochure called it. And good for a laugh, I foolishly thought. Located metres away from the colourful street performers and bag-snatchers of La Rambla, the shabby studio was all eighties mirrors and boom boxes - think Fame, minus the legwarmers. We inept beginners were swept into the far corner to begin our education. Bursting out of a dangerously tight t-shirt, our instructor Jorge bellowed out instructions in heavily accented English. None of us could understand a word. "Uno. dos, tres, y pausa...”. Why didn't we stick to the Picasso Museum?

An hour later and we were all thoroughly muddled. Despite mastering the basic backwards-forwards step and growing bold enough to add my own little flick of the hip, as soon as music was added to the mix I was lost. Not surprisingly the boys were outnumbered, so my unimpressed pal Belinda was nominated to be the lucky man to lead me through the cross-body turns. I stomped on her feet so many times I'm surprised she still speaks to me. It was funny, frustrating and downright maddening of the same time. As the afternoon wore on, our bruises grew purple, Jorge's voice boomed louder and that despairing beginners group slowly worked itself into four-step frenzy. To our unaccustomed feet, the so-called 'simple turn' might not have been quite so simple, but we would not be deterred. Three hours of hopeless, hot rehearsal later, and salsa was under our skin.

Dismissed by Jorge, we limped together for a celebratory cava al a dim, dusty bar downstairs. Blame it on the bubbly or the post-class buzz, but we plotted and planned and soon the stage was set. Midnight at Buena Vista, one of Barcelona's hottest salsa joints, and the blundering beginners group would make its dance floor debut. Safety in numbers, if nothing else.

Barcelona is one of those pulsating cities that never sleeps, where locals think; nothing of dancing 'til dawn and rolling into work on two hours sleep. Taking our first tentative step into the club, we were met with an empty echo, blinking neon and the nonchalant glances of bored bar staff. We were the first to arrive at the party and responded as any awkward guest would - by hiding beneath the plastic palm trees and slurping down some liquid courage.
My third - or was it fourth? -mojito later and like magic the salseros materialised. As the clock struck one the room leapt to life, throbbing with scantily-clad, bronzed bodies, hips and pouts thrusting to the rhythm.
Dressed up, dressed down or barely dressed at all, the dancers coiled and unfurled in a spectacle of colour and movement that had our basic four-step confidence bolting for the emergency exit. With eyes bulging and jaws skimming the floor, we were terrified, mesmerised and envious to our tapping toes. What on earth were we doing here?

And then it happened, A sweaty, smiling lothario stepped forward and beckoned Belinda into the seething pack. We laughed and waved farewell as she struggled to pull away, terror in her eyes. But he was having none of it, and she was gone for hours, another blur swallowed up in the swirling frenzy. Beyond caring, we danced amongst ourselves - the brash Latino beat is infectious and irresistible to even the most self-conscious left-footers. I con only imagine how slilted and ridiculous we must have looked, wiggling and spinning in all directions on our own corner of the dance floor!

Just as the sun threatened to rise and send us home for a well-earned siesta, a clammy hand landed on my hip with the firm confidence of a dancer practised in more than just the mambo. I couldn't wipe the smile from my face as I scrambled for excuses and before I knew if I was swimming with the big fish, stomping on
toes and spinning and colliding and ... I was salsaing!
It lasted about five exhilarating minutes - not bad for my first time. It's a strange, sweaty intimacy that you encounter with a salsa partner, especially one as short and over-zealous as mine. His arms might have clipped my head as I spun, but my heels barely touched the floor as he led me through loops and shuffles I never knew possible. for a fleeting moment I had found my salsa mojo. To my dismay, back in Jorge's studio the following afternoon, it was gone again,
Reunited with my leading-man Belinda, I tripped my way through an afternoon of laterals and shoulder shaking, Not even Jorge's cries of "smile chicas" could stop us from dragging our feet. We were lost causes once again - lost causes with blisters, aching backs and horrific hangovers.

Sulking into our churros and hot chocolate that night, a silent agreement was made. Our clumsy salsa days were over. Tomorrow was a new day, a new city and another adventure waiting to begin. Years of failed tango and
belly-dancing lessons later, I still find myself subconsciously mamboing with a secretive smile on my face whenever I happen upon a salsa tune, I never caught his name and can barely remember his face, but I know I will never forget that beat.

Salsa breaks in Barcelona

Cactus are running a Spanish & Salsa holiday from 4 - 11 September, with a week of salsa classes, Spanish lessons and accommodation for £529pp (excl flights). www. cactuslanguage.com, 0845 130 4775.

Don't leave Barcelona without...

A walk down La Rambla
There's no better place to get to know Barcelona than this bustling avenue running from the waterfront to the busy meeting point at Placa de Catalunya. Lined with street musicians, painters, flower stalls and bird sellers, as well as a mass of cafes and shops. La Rambia is the lively - and at times seedy - heart of the city.

Visiting at least one piece of Gaudi Architecture
You can't miss him! Barcelona's favourite son, Antoni Gaudi left his eccentric. Modernist mark all over the city, his most notable work being the unfinished church of the Sagrada Familio, His colourful architectural treasure trove also includes the spectacular Pare Gueli and La Pedrera.

One of the many galleries
The city's most visited museum, Museu Picasso, displays works from the artist's early years, donated by Picasso himself. The works of Joan Miro, the greatest Catalan artist of the 20th century, appear all over the city, with more to be seen in the collection at Fundacio Joan Miro. An impressive collection of Romanesque art is displayed at the Museu Nacionai d'Art de Catalunya.

Buying some fruit at Mercat de la Boqueria
The city's centuries-old food market is a sight for Sainsburys-jaded eyes. Head here for breakfast - it's the best place to buy fresh produce in Barcelona, it's crowded, noisy and colourful, and offers everything from oysters and cava to fresh fruit juices and sweet stalls - along with a slice of bustling Barcelona life.

Visiting Barri Gotic
Old Barcelona's centre is a maze of dark streets dotted with quirky cafes and tiny bars, as well as the cheapest accommodation in town. Most of the buildings dote back to the 14th/i5th centuries and there's the odd Roman ruin to be found as well. Don't miss the Catedral, one of Spain's greatest gothic buildings,

Catching the view from Montjuic
For awesome views of the city, lake a hike or a cable car to the hill overlooking the harbour. Montjuic is also home to a smattering of galleries, parks and a concentration of 1992 Olympic sites.

Reading the local paper
For listings of what's going on in Barcelona pick up a copy of Barcelona Metropolitan, available free in hotels and bars, or view it online at www.barcelona-metropolitan.com.