All the Way Around

Dave caught a mild version of whatever sickness I had, and decided to rest at my friend Nicole’s house while she and I took a train into San Francisco. I was finally feeling better and was excited to catch up with her and see more of the city.

As we finished up a meal in Chinatown, we realized that we only had about 20 minutes before the 5:15 train left. We had promised Dave that we would be back by 6 so that he and I could make it to San Rafael on time for our fifth and final dance in the Bay Area. We quickly paid the bill and walked towards the station. At 5:15 we began to run. This is a common activity for me—I rarely take a trip into a city without running to catch a bus or a train on time. Our racing paid off. Though we didn’t make it on time, a crowd of baseball fans slowly boarding the train prevented it from leaving on time. We got to her apartment only a few minutes late and rushed off to collect Dave’s friends in Berkeley, arriving in San Rafael three dances in.

Linda Leslie and The Moving Violations had just finished playing at The Dance Awakening, a dance weekend at Harbin Hot Springs, two hours north of San Francisco. The San Rafael dance had been moved from its usual Saturday night to Sunday so that the California dancers could experience them once more before the band and caller headed back East.

The volunteers at the door were set up at the bottom of a small flight of stairs where they could watch the band and dancers. The hall was fairly large, and it was filled with dancers. At least 150 were present, dancing on the smooth hardwood floor, sitting out in chairs that lined both sides of the hall, or snacking from the full table in a kitchen to the side.

Dave and I were ecstatic to hear Rainy Night in Montague again right as we joined a set for our first dance of the night. This time, it was followed by The Porcupine Reel, another of our favorites. It was if the band had seen us enter the hall and remembered our request from Oakland. We were both feeling better now, and dancing to this great tune once again, we felt completely rejuvenated.

Dave’s friend Nathalie continued to have a good time at her second contra dance ever. She and Ross even joined in the hambo after the break. We were pleased to see that she was able to experience two totally different dances and enjoy both.

The date of the San Rafael dance marked the halfway point in our journey dancing all the way around the United States. It was hard to believe that there were as many new experiences to come as we’d already had. The dance in San Rafael was a great celebration—I got to dance with many of the people I had gotten to know over the many nights of dancing in the area. I felt as if I was already a part of the San Francisco dancing community, though we hadn’t been there for more than a week.

Eureka, CA

“Are you interested in coming to dance with us?” I asked my friend Nathalie, a Bay area resident, over dinner at the third Indian restaurant Lisa and I had been to since arriving in Berkeley. I was careful not to push the matter too hard. Some people, though they have never contra danced before, simply know that they will dislike it. You cannot convince these people. In the past, invitation has led to insistence which has led to infuriation on both sides.

Nathalie, however, was on board from the first mention of contra dance. “What is it?” she excitedly asked, mouth full of pakora. Her eyes glimmered as Lisa and I did our best to explain. My friend Ross was with us, too. I had convinced him to begin dancing a few years ago, but I fear that he was one of the ones I pushed too hard. A Boston native, he was in town visiting Nathalie. Though no great lover of contra, he realized that if Nathalie was excited, it meant he was coming along as well. To his credit, he accepted his fate, and never looked back.

The four of us drove across the bay bridge into San Francisco’s hilly interior. The Saturday dance was held in St. Paul’s Church across town, which meant navigating the city almost end to end. Traffic was light, and Nathalie managed to follow me and Lisa, only needing to run a red light here and there. Parking proved a difficulty, but a few trips around the block eventually got us a space.

The hall was a hybrid of many I had seen before. The outside was a church, the dance space was a gym, and a high stage towered over the floor. A door to the side led to a kitchen with water and snacks.

Lisa was still fairly sick from the night before in Sacramento and didn’t dance much, but Ross, Nathalie, and I took the floor once we got inside. In order to help Nathalie, I asked her if she would dance with me first, but the first dance was a circle mixer. “You’ll be fine,” I said to her, “it’s the same stuff over and over.” She was wide-eyed and smiling when we split. I watched her following the directions of her new partners as I swung my own.

The crowd was mostly made up of middle aged folks, and I think many of them were excited to see the four of us walk in: representatives of the next generation of contra dancers. As a result, Nathalie was asked to dance many times, and was able to learn from many teachers. I didn’t get to dance a contra with her until well into the night, and by then, she had picked up most of the steps.

The musicians threw in some old favorites in with their contra tunes. During a contra, they played Aaron Copeland’s “Rodeo Hoedown”, and for a waltz, they began with the tune from Charlie Brown, where he and Snoopy are skating on ice. During more standard contra music, the bass player sang along as the fiddle and piano played on.

Ross and I waltzed together after he asked me to teach him how. I led him through a few times, then he took over. “Dave,” he said to me as we spun around the floor, “I used to think that white people had no rhythm. You are a clear exception.”

Charlie Fenton, the caller, made announcements during the break. As he spoke, dancers made comments and additions from the floor. “Who’s doing the announcements here!” he laughingly boomed. All was quiet after that, and he continued.

After the break, the band played a hambo. With Lisa out of commission, I tried to dance it with another woman waiting out at the side. This was a mistake: I didn’t know how to hambo. I struggled to get my steps to match hers, but only barely managed to keep from stepping on her feet as we worked at cross-purposes around the floor. I apologized as the music stopped; “thanks for trying,” she said.

Charlie Fenton called both simple and difficult dances. I was worried that Nathalie would struggle through some of them. When a beginner you know is on the floor, the walk throughs never seem precise enough, and the caller always drops out too soon. My worries were unfounded, and by the end of the night, Nathalie came up to me and announced that she was completely hooked. I told her about the dance the next night in San Rafael with a great band and caller from the Northeast, and she excitedly agreed to come. As we left the hall, she grabbed a handful of fliers from the upcoming events table.

-Eureka, CA

During our week long stay in the San Francisco area, Lisa and I took one trip out of town to dance in California’s capital, Sacramento. We were warned about the Friday rush hour, but traffic barely entered into our heads when the bigger problem presented itself. As we traveled through the hills and grape orchards of California, Lisa began to get sick. What started with a sore throat began to turn into coughing and sneezing, which escalated into a fever and a kind of delerium. Not wanting to infect the people offering to put us up for the night, we checked into a Motel 6. Lisa went to bed early, and when she was comfortable, I headed to the dance myself.

Finding the hall was more difficult than I had imagined. Lisa usually gets directions and navigates while I drive, and because I didn’t think to get the directions from her before I left, I had to rely on my memory of what she told me. I found the street the hall was on, but couldn’t find parking. Around the spot where the hall should have been was a giant church gathering for Good Friday. Hundreds of people held red glasses with candles inside. I parked several blocks down the street and tried to find the hall quickly so I could get back to Lisa and make sure she was still all right.

It turned out I was looking on the wrong side of the street, and just across from the Good Friday procession, a pair of women wearing skirts approached a large building. As I followed them, I started to hear music coming from inside.

The hall had a great floor, a high stage, and a rustic look. The band was set up in front of the stage rather than on top of it, and the caller circled the room with a headset microphone. Two lines of dancers finished up a contra as I walked in and bowed to their partners.

I wanted to find our hosts and tell them we would be staying elsewhere, but I wasn’t sure who they were. Using the technique that had worked the best in past dances, I found a partner and let my dancing distinguish me as an outsider.

The dance attracted a large proportion of beginners. The first dance I participated in was a square, and the caller began by asking if anyone was new to square dancing. A surprising number of hands went up, indicating that about a third of the people in the room hadn’t square danced before. In my square, all of the gents were experienced, but half of the ladies were not.

The square was a mixer and a lot of fun. As we made our way through the right-and-left grand, we all laughed as some of the new folks inevitably got turned around. We managed to keep it together the whole way through, and the steady music was a big help in this. The caller, Bob O’Brien, slowed his singing calls when it appeared the dancers needed to catch up.

My partner for the next contra told me during the walk through that she did not like to be twirled. No problem, I thought to myself, but as the music started, I found that I had trouble improvising between calls without that staple figure. Much of my repertoire, I discovered, had to do with different ways of twirling my partner. In an effort to branch out, I experimented with other types of moves. I lead my partner in gentle spins and turns and at other times I stepped out the rhythm with my feet myself during down time. It was an interesting exercise, and from what I could tell, I was able to keep my partner happy and connected without twirling her.

The next contra helped me find another out of towner. As the caller told us to California twirl, a woman exclaimed, “Wow, a California twirl here in California!” As I had been excited by the same thought just a week earlier, I knew she was from elsewhere. “Pennsylvania,” she told me when I got a chance to ask. It’s always nice to meet another dancer checking out contras far away from home.

The next dance was a waltz before the break. After asking a few women to dance, I found one without a partner, and we danced my final dance for the night. She told me that she didn’t know the waltz very well, but she caught on quickly for a beginner, never having trouble following my steps or turns.

I stayed through the break to talk to some of the dancers and musicians. My host approached me, and I explained our situation. “Sorry to hear about Lisa,” he said, “but thank you for thinking of us.” He went on to tell me about the dance and who attends it. “There were a lot of beginners this week because a lot of the experienced dancers are at a dance weekend.” I remembered that Linda Leslie and the Moving Violations were presiding over that event as we spoke. He and the caller both asked if I wanted to stay to call a dance after the break. I thought about it, but I didn’t want to leave Lisa sick and alone for so long.

Before I left, I went over to the band and asked them about a tune of theirs I had liked. The members of this group, the Coyote Contraband, were extremely friendly. Many of them played often for the Sacramento contra dance. As I turned to go, I realized I had one final question. “Why do you play on the floor instead of on the stage?” I asked.

“The hall is cheaper without the stage,” one of the band members replied. I smiled and nodded. A contra dance needs all the help it can get.

-Eureka, CA