I wish I had a dollar for every “I’m a hopelessly square white guy who went to Brazil to learn how to dance” story I’ve read over the years. Honestly, from John Krich’s “Why Is This Country Dancing” to well, some other stories I know are out there to, um my own piece on the topic….hey, that’d be three bucks so far. But you get the point. Even if my Googling skills aren’t up to snuff this morning (it’s not even 6:30 yet!) I know I’ve read a gazillion stories just like this. They guy heads out into the pulsing streets, he feels insecure and clumsy, but after a few still caprinas and confrontations with the opposite sex, the guy learns how to feel the beat and the next thing you know he’s swiveling his hips like a newly minted uranium-enriching centrifuge.
And so it goes in this story from Slate. Not that it’s bad, mind you. It’s not. The guy, Mathew Polly, learns how to Samba and kind of gets the idea of Capoeira, and he certainly has a lot of fun, but the cliches fly around like moths in the light on a boat gong up the amazon (trust me, I know what I’m talking about), and it has a certain predictability to it. Still, I would never be one to dis a guy who wants to travel to Brazil and write about it. So why don’t you read the piece and decide for yourself if you like it.