Ceilidh!

At a Scottish party, no one gets left behind. No one!

The word ceilidh (pronounced KAY-lee, just like it looks) means "visit" in Scots Gaelic. But of course a ceilidh is more than a visit. The object of a ceilidh is to dance your ass off. Or, more precisely, it's to get everyone in the room to dance their collective ass off.

It does not matter that this is your first ceilidh. Or you're from a foreign country. Or that you don't know the steps. Feh.

The Beginners

They say you never forget your first ceilidh. The bruises remind you.

The Scottish dancing scene in Edinburgh is pretty vibrant. In any given week, there are plenty of ceilidh's going on around town. Amy wanted to get in on the action pretty early, and chose one and plunked down some money for tickets. It said beginners were totally welcome. Then a couple of days later, she found another one in the Haymarket district, but this one had fewer rules and seemed to be looser. More forgiving. We like forgiveness.

"We'll go to the Haymarket one, and if it's no fun, we'll go to the other one," Amy said.

I think that was smart. You should be serially monogamous with your ceilidhs. Dancing at one ceilidh will be enough of a challenge: two ceilidh's at the same time would be a major PITA.

I knew nothing about ceilidhs, and already I was making up rules?

So here's the scene. An old church with all the pews removed. A ceiling that towers about 50 feet above. Immaculate dance floor - polished wood with just the right amount of "scooch". Three piece Scottish band up in front: fiddle, accordion, and keyboard. Plastic bucket chairs and church lunch tables behind ginormous stone pillars.

There is a "tea room" and free water. Hydration is a very important part of every dance ritual. We talk to a few folks who wander in, including an IT guy from Edinburgh and his partner from Nepal. Dances that attract IT guys score instant cred with me.

The recipe is:

1. Band calls out a dance. "The Gay Gordons. Gay Gordons everyone."
2. A minute goes by. Couples stream onto the dance floor. Beginners look like deer in the headlights. Callers (= cruise directors from the dance club) convince them to get on the floor ...
3. Band calls the steps to the dance. Callers demonstrate the moves. Experienced couples nod in recognition. Beginners look like deer in the headlights.
4. Dance begins. Experienced couples immediately stick out. Beginner couples find and watch them, in the process bumping into each other and laughing like hyenas.
5. The same set of moves is repeated 8 times or so.
6. Beginners finally understand the steps. At that very moment (and not one second before!), the dance ends.
7. Band reads the room. If the couples aren't going back to their seats, it means they want to do it again. In that case, the band says "let's do this again!"
8. Take a break. Drink two sips of your pint. You do have a pint, right? If not, go get one!
9. Repeat steps 1-8 with something just a wee bit more complicated.
10. Do this 10 zillion more times.
11. 1 AM: get thrown out with everyone else.
12. Go to a pub and try to forget the spectacle you made of yourself. Or remember. Either one.

'Tis Different

Scottish Ceilidh Dancing is a taught-as-you-go dance. As such, it is situated about halfway between the types of dance I practice. On the one hand is American Rock and Roll dancing, which is the equivalent of free jazz. No one is taught anything. The other hand is more formal dances like Salsa, Rueda di Casino, Swing and Ballroom. For these you must be taught offline before literally throwing your hat in the ring.

I like both of these extremes, but Scottish Dancing is fun in a different way. You are taught the steps, but there are too many for a beginner to memorize. Everyone knows this.

So you learn by osmosis. You watch other couples doing it and imitate them. The experts exaggerate their moves, knowing they are being watched. In a change-partners dance, they give you little clues through their connection (similar to salsa). The teaching is a little dance in itself, if you get my drift.

Or put another way ... a standard dance floor can be a pretty judgy place. You are being watched. People are scared of screwing up, and hence people's fear of it is justified.

In Ceilidh dancing, you're kind of expected to screw up. When you err, you become the life of the party for a second. Everyone laughs with you. They forgive you. You are part of the community.

In short, a ceilidh dance is like going to church. Except for the whiskey raffle, of course.

I know this is all a little abstract. So here we are doing the Riverside Jig in the Royal British Legion Hall in Canongate.

And yes - that blur of dancers running from left to right are all holding their hands up. The others are ducking down underneath, but just at the right moment. If they get smacked ... oh well.

The human body is a miraculous healer.

Hooked

Amy and I leave our first ceilidh, drenched in sweat.

We both look at each other and say, almost in unison, "Oh my GOD! That was so fun!"

We duck into the Domino's Pizza next door (yes, this exists in all countries). As we wait for a small sausage and red pepper, we are already making plans for our next ceilidh.

A little recovery time might be nice. But in two weeks we can do the Gay Gordon's, the Dashing White Sergeant, the Flying Scotsman, the Virginia Reel, the Canadian Barn Dance, the X and O, and The Riverside Jig all over again!

The excellent Ceilidh Survival Guide web page (https://www.thejiggers.co.uk/ceilidh-survival-guide/) explains it well: