That was the state I was in this weekend. I have never done drugs, but if I had, I think that I might compare the contra dancing high to a drug high, except that it's far less harmful (though, I'm finding, equally addicting). I had an indescribably wonderful time. I will try to describe it anyway, however. (Sorry, I'm a writer. I can't help trying.)
It was lovely to simply drive across Montana. We left on Friday around 1 o'clock, and headed east on I-90. I'm so used to the Missoula valley that it was surprising to see the varying shapes of the mountains we drove through, and the view from the pass past Butte was gorgeous. And then . . . a night of contra dancing! We danced from 7:30 to 11:30, limbering up for the weekend. There were about 120 people there, and we were perfectly split--60 women and 60 men. In a word, ideal. What I may love most about contra dancing is the opportunity to meet so many different people. We run the gamut of ages and experience, from high school students to octogenarians, from expert contra dancers who have been dancing for 30 years or more to those who have just begun. The community is wonderful. I also love that there is no pressure when one is contra dancing. I have never had to sit in a corner wishing someone would ask me to dance . . . or had to feel that the fact that someone is asking me to dance means that he has ulterior motives. Everyone dances with everyone else: that's the point.
That said, I definitely have my favorites. Tom from Livingston, with his gorgeous eyes; Fred from San Diego, with his wide smile and his propensity to twirl me until I'm dizzy; Wayne from Missoula, one of the courtly older men who has as much energy as anyone and is constantly jazzing up the dance; Buell from Missoula, steady, but with a twinkle; Marvin from Bozeman, who is 82 and looks exactly like a hobbit, short, with curly gray hair. I think he is Bilbo Baggins in disguise--though he is 82, he looks 70 and dances as though he's 35. The ring of power must have been in his pocket, because I'm pretty sure he wasn't wearing it on a chain around his neck. Or perhaps it's the contra dancing that keeps him young . . .
And then there was the band: Contratopia. I was thrilled to find out they're from eastern Iowa (Decorah) and Minneapolis, and they'd actually (gasp) heard of Sioux Center, and Dordt College, and the Christian Reformed Church. Ah, Dutch bingo! And they were incredible. The combination of instruments, their obvious experience playing off one another, their in-tuneness with each other, and their ability to feed off the energy of the dancers pushed an already fantastic weekend into the realm of paradisaical. So, for those of you who are lucky enough to live in or near the Twin Cities, you MUST, I repeat MUST, check out the contra dances at the Tapestry Folkdance Center in Minneapolis, particularly those on the 4th Saturdays of the month. You will not regret it. I promise.
Okay, perhaps I ought to stop raving now. To sum up, I had a marvelous weekend and am now trying to figure out when I can get my next fix. Coeur d'Alene in June, perhaps?
Back at the ranch, though, I'm trying to adjust to normal (normal as in "no insanely high levels of endorphins racing through my bloodstream") life. It seems rather dull, I must say. Ilhamdulillah, there's a contra dance this weekend, for which I have volunteered to bring food. Any suggestions as to what delectable baked goods I should make?
School is in progress now, and I'm not quite yet into the swing of things. Bit by bit. I'm taking a less-than-thrilling class, one that is required for my degree: Citizen Participation in Environmental Problems. I will admit that it has potential, but it is not a class I would have chosen, had I had a choice. Of course, I AM a citizen, and there are lots of environmental problems out there, and I should probably participate, so I'm sure it will be useful. We shall see.
All right. I've blogged. I've raved. I've betrayed the depth of my latest obsession. And by gum, I hope that some of you lucky Twin Cities residents (Jen & Joe! Janelley! Maygs & Seth! Bethie! Amos! Heather & John!) will at least try contra dancing once. I would recommend February 24th.
Wishing you all much wonder and joy this week!
It was lovely to simply drive across Montana. We left on Friday around 1 o'clock, and headed east on I-90. I'm so used to the Missoula valley that it was surprising to see the varying shapes of the mountains we drove through, and the view from the pass past Butte was gorgeous. And then . . . a night of contra dancing! We danced from 7:30 to 11:30, limbering up for the weekend. There were about 120 people there, and we were perfectly split--60 women and 60 men. In a word, ideal. What I may love most about contra dancing is the opportunity to meet so many different people. We run the gamut of ages and experience, from high school students to octogenarians, from expert contra dancers who have been dancing for 30 years or more to those who have just begun. The community is wonderful. I also love that there is no pressure when one is contra dancing. I have never had to sit in a corner wishing someone would ask me to dance . . . or had to feel that the fact that someone is asking me to dance means that he has ulterior motives. Everyone dances with everyone else: that's the point.
That said, I definitely have my favorites. Tom from Livingston, with his gorgeous eyes; Fred from San Diego, with his wide smile and his propensity to twirl me until I'm dizzy; Wayne from Missoula, one of the courtly older men who has as much energy as anyone and is constantly jazzing up the dance; Buell from Missoula, steady, but with a twinkle; Marvin from Bozeman, who is 82 and looks exactly like a hobbit, short, with curly gray hair. I think he is Bilbo Baggins in disguise--though he is 82, he looks 70 and dances as though he's 35. The ring of power must have been in his pocket, because I'm pretty sure he wasn't wearing it on a chain around his neck. Or perhaps it's the contra dancing that keeps him young . . .
And then there was the band: Contratopia. I was thrilled to find out they're from eastern Iowa (Decorah) and Minneapolis, and they'd actually (gasp) heard of Sioux Center, and Dordt College, and the Christian Reformed Church. Ah, Dutch bingo! And they were incredible. The combination of instruments, their obvious experience playing off one another, their in-tuneness with each other, and their ability to feed off the energy of the dancers pushed an already fantastic weekend into the realm of paradisaical. So, for those of you who are lucky enough to live in or near the Twin Cities, you MUST, I repeat MUST, check out the contra dances at the Tapestry Folkdance Center in Minneapolis, particularly those on the 4th Saturdays of the month. You will not regret it. I promise.
Okay, perhaps I ought to stop raving now. To sum up, I had a marvelous weekend and am now trying to figure out when I can get my next fix. Coeur d'Alene in June, perhaps?
Back at the ranch, though, I'm trying to adjust to normal (normal as in "no insanely high levels of endorphins racing through my bloodstream") life. It seems rather dull, I must say. Ilhamdulillah, there's a contra dance this weekend, for which I have volunteered to bring food. Any suggestions as to what delectable baked goods I should make?
School is in progress now, and I'm not quite yet into the swing of things. Bit by bit. I'm taking a less-than-thrilling class, one that is required for my degree: Citizen Participation in Environmental Problems. I will admit that it has potential, but it is not a class I would have chosen, had I had a choice. Of course, I AM a citizen, and there are lots of environmental problems out there, and I should probably participate, so I'm sure it will be useful. We shall see.
All right. I've blogged. I've raved. I've betrayed the depth of my latest obsession. And by gum, I hope that some of you lucky Twin Cities residents (Jen & Joe! Janelley! Maygs & Seth! Bethie! Amos! Heather & John!) will at least try contra dancing once. I would recommend February 24th.
Wishing you all much wonder and joy this week!
