15. Take Argentine Tango lessons

It must have been the writer's strike last year that subconsciously influenced this decision. I found myself suddenly mesmerized by the plethora of dance shows. Before I knew it I had the urge to take Argentine Tango lessons.

Now, I was drawn to the name. Argentine? I liked Argentine steak houses, so it was an obvious sign that this was the style of dancing I would do. I had never seen it performed, and couldn't tell you the difference between it and any other kind of tango, or even dance, for that matter. I signed up for a six-week class at Ric Seeling's Dance Club, and arrived at my first class slightly nervous and mostly eager. My biggest dilemma was what kind of shoes to wear? I sorted through my closet-full of sandals and finally settled on a pair of pink, leather-soled loafers, which I hoped would let me glide gracefully around the wooden dance floor.

As the teacher joined us in the room, I looked around at the other seven participants and had an immediate flashback to my junior high dances. Once again, I was the tallest person in the room:-) I didn't have time to dwell on it, though, because I was soon concentrating on learning the steps.

I discovered that Argentine Tango is an improvised dance, where basic dance patterns are put together by the man as he moves his partner around the floor. The woman's job is to trust his lead, and be ready to move in any direction at any time, and to not anticipate a move. For someone like me who is used to running the show on a daily basis, I could already see where my challenge was going to be! I attempted to relax and be a good partner and stay off my partner's feet.

The dance looks a little odd, too, as the two dancers hold their upper bodies close together, with their feet apart, almost like an 'A' frame. This is so their feet don't get tangled up in the improvisational nature of the dance, but it makes the women lean into the men. I was informed that we're not actually leaning with our weight on the man, but somehow are expected to magically balance while twirling and stepping. I was afraid to try this during the first class because I didn't want to flatten a dance partner while I was learning. I could picture it. "Whoa! Dancer down in the Argentine Room!"

Argentine Tango had its origins in dance halls, bars and houses of prostitution. When done by someone other than us beginners, the dance is very close, entwined and very sensuous. The teacher informed us that a dance is called a 'Milonga'. Why, I'm practically Latin already.

Now that I've had several classes, I'm starting to get the hang of the steps and think I'll stay with it. Like most anything, the basics are fairly simple, but mastery is a lifetime process. My teacher suggested that I look on YouTube for some Argentine Tango video, and after watching, I'm SO glad I didn't see it before starting the class! I would have been quite intimidated. At least now I can sort of see what steps they're doing. Maybe I'll get a pair of nice dance shoes, that way, as long as I'm standing still, no one will know I'm a beginner.

14. Take a Duck Boat Tour

I'm not going to go into a lot of detail here because it's almost too goofy for words but after somewhat of a liquid lunch we decided a Duck Boat Tour was a good idea.

The Duck boats started off life as a military transport vehicle, and like every good military idea, "Duck" is actually an acronym, spelled DUKW.

What does DUKW stand for?
D = First year of production code "D" is for 1942U = Body style "U" utility truck (amphibious)K = Front wheel drive. GMC still uses that on trucks today (K5 Chevy Blazer)W = Two rear driving wheels (tandem axle) Many of them have been converted for tourist invasions instead of military invasions.

The Duck Boat ride was actually still a good idea, although a little overpriced and touristy, but what the heck, it was fun, we got to see Lake Hamilton from a very close-up vantage point, and it made it onto the list at #14.

13. Take a thermal bath

Imagine a room of pristine white subway tile, with twenty or so tiled cubicles around the edges of the room, each with a starched white curtain in the entrance to each cubicle. A row of neatly placed 30's era white enameled metal chaises ran down the center of the large room, and stacks of fluffy white towels and sparkling clean sheets added the final grace note to the bathhouse. An attendant handed me a white towel wrap and directed me to the locker room. I undressed and velcroed the towel wrap around me like bathhouse chic and locked my belongings in the locker and looked for LaToya, as I had been instructed to do.

LaToya was dressed in a starched white uniform and greeted me with the same delight one might expect from a long-lost friend. More of that Arkansas friendliness, I guessed. She led me to a cubicle, and informed me about the pure pleasure I was about to experience while she adjusted the water temperature in the bathtub. The thermal waters come out of the ground at 143 degrees farenheit, hot enough to parboil me if not tempered with cooled water.

The bathtub was the size of a small boat, large enough for all of my 5'9" self to fit into easily. The bathing experience is not for the modest, I was momentarily disoriented when I realized LaToya expected me to hand my wrap to her and climb into the tub buck nekkid. Well, how else would you take a bath? I had another good laugh at myself for feeling a little embarrassed, enjoying another opportunity to get out of my comfort zone and lovingly confront some self-image ideas. I settled into the tub and LaToya turned on the jets, and reminded me to drink the two small cups of water she had set on the side of the tub for me. "I'll be back in a few minutes to check on you", she assured me as she left my cubicle.

As I adjusted to the tub's thermally heated water, I lay back and thought about my attitude toward my body. At 50, my body no longer looked as it did 10 years ago, and didn't I sure judge it for that! What an impossible standard, I had, and wasn't I setting myself up to feel badly about myself? I chose to relax my mind along with my muscles, and take a few minutes to appreciate my body for hanging in there with me for 50 years without many complaints. I was healthy, no aches and pains, and while I did huff and puff my way up the mountain that morning, I made it there and back easily. The water swirled around me and soothed me in more ways than physically.

My favorite part of the bath was when LaToya returned with a loofa mitt (every patron gets one of their own) and scrubbed my back, arms and legs. I hadn't felt that good since my mom scrubbed me when I was a kid:-) And another delightful experience was waiting for me once I dried off and got back into my wrap.

LaToya led me to one of the chaises in the long row, and placed steaming hot towels down on which I was to lay. Once I was horizontal, she wrapped each limb in a steaming towel, giving each one an expert flip and soon I was pleasantly mummified. The crowning touch was a hand towel dipped in ice water, which was draped around my face, leaving an opening for my eyes, nose and mouth. Oh my! The contrast of the heat on my body and the coolness on my face was just wonderful, and I melted into the chaise and contemplated this little bit of heaven in the unlikely place of Arkansas. In their heyday before TV and radio, I was told that the baths formed the social fabric of Hot Springs. Everyone walked down the promenade and formed bonds during the bathing experience. The role of Bath Attendant was a coveted one in years past, and one that was reached only after an apprenticeship.

I found myself a bit humbled and appreciative of LaToya's ministrations and care, and decided that there must be a couple of wings hidden under that starched white uniform.

12. Hike up Hot Springs Mountain

Before my bath, I decided to wear myself out by hiking to the top of Hot Springs Mountain, smack dab in the middle of the Hot Springs National Park, which overlooks Bathhouse Row. The promenade entrance is so inviting, you can just imagine it as the hub of the social life of the town, as the historic photos on the signs show you as you walk by.

The trails were all easily found, and I started up the closest one, the Honeysuckle trail. At only .5 of a mile, surely this one would be easy, right?

Oh My Gosh, I'm a Flatlander. Even though I'm a regular runner/walker, I live in an area where there are no inclines, and after about 100 yards, I felt as if I was climbing Mt. Everest. After 200 yards, I was grateful for the intermittent boulders some kind trail planner had positioned by the trail, for folks like me to sit on and admire the beauty of the woods while we attempted to find some oxygen. The promise of the view from the Hot Springs Mountain Tower drove me on.

At one point, I found myself wondering why on earth I pushed myself to do things like this. Did it really matter if I reached the top? What did that say about my attitude about life? Is my tendency to give up when a little effort is required? My mind (or could it be my ego?) generated 'reasons' to turn back at every step. I didn't know the trails, how much further, watch out you could fall, why push yourself, you're a perfectionist, what does it matter if you turn back. The sound of my tennis shoes on the gravel trail made soft scrunchy noises, and I listened to the way the wind blowing through the trees wove into the sound of my breathing. Isn't this how we stop ourselves from growing? All this chatter, like a constantly playing loudspeaker in our heads. We have a choice, we can choose not to listen, do belief work to change the chatter, and take action anyway, despite what our self-talk says.

I kept going, laughing at myself for just being human, and was rewarded with an astonishing view at the top. And was immensely relieved to discover that I had arrived prior to the tower's business hours, thereby relieving me of the responsibility of climbing all the way to the top! I looked around a while, admired the view, patted myself on the back for making it to the top, and took a leisurely jog back down the mountain--it was almost bath time!

11. Visit Arkansas

I'm not quite sure exactly how I've managed to live most of my life in Louisiana and never cross the border into Arkansas until now. But when my good friend Bert (short for 'Roberta) suggested that we needed a girls spa weekend in Hot Springs, the only question I asked was 'You driving?' before I jumped into her car. After all, it's mid-year and I still have a list to complete. I only half-way heard her mention that we'd be staying at an historic hotel where she'd stayed many times before.

Okay. Picture lots of long boring interstate pretty much all the way there from Baton Rouge to just outside of Hot Springs. Suddenly the landscape changed to rolling hills and we rounded a curve that revealed lots of water. We were at Lake Hamilton, created in 1932 by Arkansas Power and Light upon the completion of Carpenter Dam on the Ouachita River, which generates electricity to the surrounding areas.

We drove across Lake Hamilton into historic downtown Hot Springs, and Bert pointed to a row of old buildings to my right. "This is Bathhouse Row." I realized only then that I'd missed something in high school US Geography class. If these were public bathhouses, then there just might be a logical reason that 'Hot Springs' is named 'Hot Springs'. I had never devoted a nanobyte's worth of thought to Arkansas, and now I could see what I had been missing, even if I still didn't completely know what the 'baths' experience was yet.

We were booked into the Arlington Hotel, Al Capone's Hot Springs headquarters during the 20's, and a magical step back into a time where all the mouldings were gilded and all the staff exemplified Customer Service. What was it about these Arkansans? Syrupy accents and a genuine friendliness that you just can't fake. Need extra pillows? "Sure Honey, let me bring sum up to yew". A ride in the self-service elevator from the baths floor up to your floor? "Ah wuz jes goin' that way mah-self." I can see why Capone made this his headquarters, after only a few minutes here I felt very Belle Epoch, and couldn't wait to be pampered in the baths.

Thoughts on New

Now that I'm a little ways into my 50 New Things year, I realized a little more about what was driving it all. It's not so much about doing your Bucket List, as much as it is being open to the possibilities that surround us every day. Possibilities that could lead us to our dreams, to feeling more peaceful and fulfilled. It's so much easier sometimes to just sit on the couch, comfortable in our rut, than it is to muster energy to get out of our comfort zone. I know that for the last several months a lot of my available creative energy was happily dedicated to taking care of a friend. There are seasons to life, and there is a time to stay steady just as surely as there is a time to expand. However, I think that our own fears can hold us back from beneficial growth if we don't decide to address it.

What do we risk by trying something new? Feeling embarassed or unsure of ourselves? I think that's a very small price to pay for the reward of increased self-confidence and fulfillment that trying something new will bring.

So here's to staying open to possibilities, to putting the power of 'new' into the power of 'now.

10. Get bitten by a tarpon

Owie!

Now I know why they told me to take my jewelry off.