One graceful flip of her hair after any of dozens of turns, spins, and steps and twists, and I was smitten. You'll hang upon the delicate point of that fingertip; the whip of her hair stings so sweetly. The devilish little smile is the smoldering antithesis of a drill team's plastered-on grin. Her flourishes and styling distill and sweeten the heady liquor of the movement and of course--as a student, as a writer, as an observer, as a human being with blood in my veins--that is the moment that you fall in love.  

The dance. The motion. The romance. The intimacy. The girl.  Take your pick. The small subconscious intake of breath is free of charge.  

Chantelle Weaver has been preparing her whole life to help you fall in love with salsa. By any measure, she fulfills and surpasses all expectations. Her movements are graceful, calculated, forceful, and agile simultaneously. Her dance is explosive and smooth, a calculated blur and sensually slow. With her partner, the spectator experiences the best of any team play, slicing through stillness with precision--art.  

She teaches at Salsa con Todo, one of Seattle's premier schools. Tucked into the fabric of Wallingford, a house cum dance studio that at first glance looks just like any other, hidden from the road at the top of a flight of winding stairs. I thought I had the wrong address, pedaling up and down the street a couple times just to make sure that this was the right number, the right street.  But walking into the studio, clear bright light streaming in through the windows, the floor nude, showing well-worn beautiful old hardwood, and the row of mirrors for the recovering self-conscious, and it's like a little slice of a dream.

"I like to think of it as a speakeasy, or a salon (say it like you're Francaise)," Chantelle says, when I ask about the absence of even a sign in the window. She alludes to the intimate nature of the classes, and to the community that fosters, congregates, and grows within these mirrored walls. Salsa dancing originated in New York, with its roots heavily based in Cuba and Puerto Rico. A partner dance that is fast, joyous, and lively, salsa's popularity has increased exponentially in the last few years. Seattle's community is no exception, and it's clear as I hear her talk about the places to go and the things to do, that it is a tight network of dazzling dancers and late nights, from the Century Ballroom on Thursday to Dante's on Sunday night. It is both emboldening and intimidating to know that I could be dancing every night if I chose. Salsa con Todo's role in all this is to create the right kind of dancers, people in love with both the movement and spirit of salsa, and to give them the techniques and foundation to express their true selves out on the dance floor.  "We basically give you the tools to come up with your own choreography."
Chantelle teaches alongside Vassili, who himself has so much character and talent that as far as I can tell, he only has one name. They are like watching a raging bonfire when they perform, and it is indeed just as mesmerizing, and just as bright. For them, dancing--it appears--was nature's intention, and between them have decades of dancing experience. Already dancing for seven years by the age of twelve, Chantelle first learned ballet as her foundation. Her first memory of salsa is at a Dominican Thanksgiving in New York. A real life movie flashback, after dinner the tables and couches were pushed out of the way and they danced till the dawn. Montage forward, and between a fortuitous music festival workshop and a trip to Europe, she returned home to Seattle with a vow to dance.

There is no doubt of Chantelle's prowess as an athlete, whether in strength, coordination, stamina, or focus. A look at her training regimen quells any doubts. Chantelle dances between 12 and 14 hours a week, whether in class, or out afterwards. Asides from dancing, there is a competitive dance team, 5 hours of cross training a week, and drills. Drills and drills and drills. This is on top of 30 hours of classes a week in cosmetology school, and time spent running the studio. Supposedly, she also sleeps.

Her favored method of salsa is the New York style, because of its subtleties and musicality, rather than the west coast style's focus on flashier moves and showmanship. I can see why. Watching the dance, it's like falling in love with either the magnanimous gestures and big ideas of a person, or their details and idiosyncrasies. It was always the little things that got me--NY style here I come.

And so I return for my first indoctrination. That night, I watched the students quietly wend their way up the steps, one by one, as if to a secret meeting. Few words spoken--dancing awaits!--shoes quietly changed, music softly trumpeting. Words unnecessary, dancers couple up, begin to move. What club had I just joined? What sizzlingly romantic movie had I stepped into? I understood what she had meant. This was a place to get away, a place to be free. They would give you the tools for your freedom, and then you would build your escape. In theory this would be my liberation. Reality introduced me to an intermediate class, Salsa 202, in the midst of session. An equal parts exercise in humility and wonder. For the most part we would rotate partners, the class full of generous souls willing to fill-in for my foibles. At some points, the instructors would step in to gently guide the floundering. I was drowning slowly in the deep end. Chantelle saw my bubbles, and became my boat and paddle. The comfort of dancing with a confident partner is disengenuous, and I'd be more flummoxed except she'd disarmed me and made me feel somehow more goofy and less self conscious all at the same time. And so, not just athlete, nor just artist. But in this case, teacher, savior, and friend. I get it. This is the pitch. This is her family, this is the community. Ya, she's right, they don't need anything in the window.

Where do I sign up?
Buttonfor Doppio Cycling Button for Chasing After HARM