Aftermath...

One of the things about going to dance camps and weekends and festivals is that it's impossible to explain to anyone who wasn't there and who's never experienced it before what it was like - the intensity, whirlwind madness of it all, the non-stop reunions, the adrenylene highs that keep you going in spite of sleeplessness, inadequate caffiene and food intake, and aches in places you never knew you had.

This past weekend was Neffa, a fabulous festival in Mansfield, MA. It was all of the above and more.

(Picture by Robin Reid)

Today was a true day-after, similar to coming back to civilization after a week at dance camp. It feels odd that I didn't recognize people on the street and in the elevator like I did in the hallways of the school where Neffa happens. I wanted nothing more than to look at pictures of the festival, relive and rehash all of the moments, share stories, think about next year.

Reality will sink in after a few days, though I fear the next few home dances will fall a little flat in comparison. I will wash all of the dresses, finish unpacking before I repack it all for next weekend's adventure, and who knows, maybe even catch up on a little sleep.

What was she wearing??

Arthur Fergusson snapped this some time during the first half of this year's Boston Ball (I took the gloves off for the second half). It's a good view of the dress, the current length of the hair (just assume the vast amount of chemicals it took to get my hair to stay that way), and a smattering of the 78 rosettes that seemed to have survived their second washing...

Once more into the breach, dear friends...

So this coming home from camp and then turning around and going right back thing is crazy in general, but it's a whole other ball game when camp number 2 is a total unknown. At this point, I know exactly how to pack for Pinewoods - which bags I use, how to pack the car, how many towels, etc. I know none of this for Mendocino. That and I'm flying and checking luggage and I can't even pretend that my dresses will stay wrinkle free. I have a feeling this is going to bother me more than it ought to.

I'm slowly getting my act together - printing out many pages of dance stuff, writing programs, thinking about classes, making notes. The two classes I'm teaching are both in the morning, with only a 15-minute gap to regroup. In some ways this is good because I have the afternoon free to take class. In other ways, this is challenging because I don't have a lot of time to think between classes. I'm glad I'm moving from the breathlessness of Scottish to the comparitive ease of English. This is the right order for me.

Tomorrow night is ironing and packing. Friday is more of the same. Think good thoughts.

Partial packing list:

-Dresses - many
-Sweaters - it gets cold at night - maybe gloves also
-Dance shoes - all
-11 lb. bar of dark chocolate - for tasting party
-Happy tappy lights - not just for under cabinets any more
-Bear - for comfort
-Small moose - for luck

Into the woods we have to go...

I can't begin to sum up camp, much less say specific and coherant things about it on the amount of sleep I've had over the past few days. I'll try to do so over the next few days. Needless to say, I'm trying to come to terms with the fact that I'm not going to be at English Week this year to be with the similar gang of folks that were at July 4th (though I am tempted to email Steve Howe to see if the waiting list is moving. I know - stupid, but still...).

Dave Cornelius, among others, takes lots of photos of the weekend which I love to look at endlessly to take me back to that haven of fabulous dancing and great friends in the woods. Here's me and Sally on Friday or Saturday at the Porch & Rail, that venerable institution, laughing and trying not to pose as Dave captures the picture.

I'm happy to be home, but I want to go back. Now would be fine...

My bags are packed and...

And I'm just about ready to go...

And though I vow every year I will get to bed before 2am the night before camp, I haven't made it yet.

I'll admit I was packed by about 1am, but it's these last second emails and my very fun dial-up connection that put me this late.

But as of tomorrow I'm off for the long weekend and ready to have a wonderful time.

This image, taken by Jeremy Thorpe is a quintessential Pinewoods picture for me. Every night after the evening dance, bunches of folks go swimming in Long Pond. And as you're cooling down, this is the view you see looking back at the camphouse. The lights are on and the party is waiting for you...

Okay, take a deep breath...

What a weird dance weekend...

There are so many things I love about dancing, including travelling with friends to dance events, sharing the experience, rehashing it afterwards, etc. But this weekend, while okay on the whole brought out some of my least favorite things about going to dances:

-Fast partnering - before the applause is over, all of the people around you are partnered up. This behaviour is typical of many places, but I find it especially rampant in the particular community we were visiting. I was reminded why I'm boycotting their ball.

-Callers who talk too much - this makes the dance instructions hard to ferret out, and turns excess attention on the caller rather than on the dancers and the music. As a caller, I don't think the evening should be about the caller, no matter how pleasant he or she may be...

-Teachers who can't teach. They use the same words to explain what made no sense the fitst time rather than using different words, demonstrating, or having someone else demonstrate. We all lose that way - caller is frustrated, and dancers still don't know what to do.

-Teachers who don't own their ideas and convictions. Don't tell me to dance in a particular way because it will make me enjoy the dance more. Tell me to do x because it is a style you are advocating at the moment or for some other reason, but don't put it on me. I have a pretty good idea of what makes me enjoy a dance and stupid hand gestures are not it. Try again. Or rather, don't. ARGHHHH!!!!! I try pretty hard not to outright avoid this person's workshops and ideas, try to see that she has something to offer, interesting dances, if nothing else. But she doesn't make it easy.

And all of this happens on the eve of my going to July 4th Weekend, where I plan to put all of this behind me and have a stellar time, damn it.

The morning after...

...was really rough. But that's what happens when you don't get home until 2 in the morning.

But I count it worthwhile. Neffa, that is.

When I worked at Pinewoods I got into the habit of trying not to expect the coming year or session to be as good as it was last year. Because, what if it wasn't? Then I would just be disappointed. I learned that if I didn't expect things, often I was pleasantly surprised.

Not that this always works, mind you...

Neffa is like that for me too. I always have a good time, and get excited by it and hope I have great partners whenever I want them, but try and not set that bar too high. And this year, what with the house being all consuming, I didn't have time to really dwell on Neffa anyway, or at least not too far in advance. And I had a great time and very many good dances and fun partners. I even did both contra medleys.

The most difficult moment for me was Saturday evening. I get very nervous after calling and after performances. Or not always nervous, but I have all of this adrenaline that I've built up that I need to do something with. Because calling for me is just another type of performance, and I want to get up there and put my whole self into it and carry the dancers all the way through until the end. And then it's over, and I get a bit crazy.

This year my two big things were too close together. We got through the GCD performance, and I hardly had time to turn around before I had to get myself together and do my prep to call. And calling at Neffa is such a big deal for me. It feels tenuous. I don't feel that I can mess up and get accepted to call again. I haven't earned that yet, and I'd miss not being able to do it. And for that matter, calling dances at Neffa is an important calling card - people see you from all over and might hire you to call their dance. So I called, and it wasn't perfect, but it was fine. But again, afterwards I had all of this excess craziness to get rid of. So I took a walk and had a coffee and found people to talk with, and all was well. But there must be a different way for handling this. Probably dancing immediately afterwards would take care of it...

And while I didn't dance with everyone I wanted too - a few very notable gaps in that list - I was able to have the aspects of Neffa I most enjoy - connecting and re-connecting, if briefly, with people I don't see often because we don't live and dance near each other.

And did I mention the fabulously wonderful Points of Etiquette were, in fact, fabulously wonderful. I hope we can get a team together to go next year!

There's undoubtedly more to say, but it will keep while I attempt to get to bed at a reasonable hour...