May 5 Sunday
Beautiful clear sunny warm breezy day. I thought it too warm to dance in the sun, so I headed for the palm tree shaded beach, but it is a while since I danced on the sand. Oh, my, how difficult it is to dance on sand! After some 10 mins I decided to change shoes and dance on the tiles instead, because I seem to have adapted to low friction smooth floors. I danced outside EsTapaTi using their music, a challenge because they could play anything and it is not very loud. When I didn’t like the music I changed to my CD. Later moved to another location where, after taking a pause, a man sitting at a cafe table beckoned. He was bald, probably in his 60s sitting next to an attractive woman of similar age. He spoke in spanish,but asked if I speak English. “You do?” he seemed surprised, “oh, good. For the last 3 weeks my wife and I have been coming here on sunday for lunch and we look forward to seeing you dance.”
He is Armenian and a structural engineer, she English. He told me about travelling through turkey and Iran in the 1970s without visas and without any trouble. He told me his knee joint problems and his exercise regime. He said that I seem to move every part of my body, and as he does 12 minutes of the Canadian air force exercises each day he admires what I do, and he added, “I take off my scalp to you” (I mentioned that he was bald.) His name is Said and his wife is Barbara. I explained that I too have knee problems, but that my feet are worse due to the battering they get to which she responded that she was surprised because it is like watching ballet dancers in that I seem to be floating on cotton wool. (An unusual image.) Compliments always surprise me. I danced some more and then moved on to my last pitch. Two young men walked past, one gave me a thumbs up and we ‘high fived’ he asked what music I was listening to and then told me ‘Show me your moves’ (a typical demand/request these days) he then began dancing and suddenly turned upside down to balance on one hand. So strange that I dance 3 yards away from people, my arms floating and flailing about, striking poses and expressing emotions, skipping, sometimes jumping and spinning, ignoring their existence, but trying to monitor their position. How can I be doing this? How is it that in this activity I can be so free of that oppressive fear of being noticed or commented upon or reacted to? Sometimes it takes me a few minutes to feel free, but then I own the place. I often don’t get home till about 2.30pm and then have to prepare and eat lunch after which it is about 3.15. Sometimes I need to snooze, sometimes I read or write this diary, then I am hungry again and have to decide whether to start dinner or just snack.
May 5 Sunday