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I've been trying to expand my Chicago horizons this year, and last night I finally went to Summerdance. The lesson: Klezmer.

My friend Sarah and I were about ten minutes late, so I'm sure we missed the essential kernels of klezmer knowledge that would have prevented us from sucking as badly as we did for the first 3/4 of the class. The dances were all done in long ropes or large circles of people, and I spent most of my time flailing sweatily and trying not to mash the toes of my neighbors under my clunky-shoed bafflement.

But the final dance was a basic three-step. I come from polka people -- I can handle a three-step. Suddenly I got it. I was able to improvise, like many of the more seasoned dancers in the ring. I was all light bouncy steps and quick swiveling hips, lamenting how long it's been since I danced in public. I really should dance more. Dancing is fun.

And then it was over. Sarah and I were both filmy with grime and sweat, so we did not stay to hear the band's concert. But next week? Bhangra!

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