Rothenfels Pictures

The Rothenfels Baroque Dance Conference happened almost a month ago, but I feel compelled to expose the silly sort-of hijinks that the crazy Americans perpetuated.

The whole conference was quite fun, even if I did eat way too much pork. Every morning we listened to lectures (one of which had me rushing to the New York Public Library to get my hands on a hot little uncatalogued Italian notation). In the afternoons we danced about 20 different kinds of contredanses. In the evenings, after the daily pork ration, there were more contredanses.

Contredanses are kind of like square dances, except in lines or groups of 8.

The conference took place in a charming German fort (medieval? I lazily didn't find out) on the top of a small mountain (putting the Berg into Burg Rothenfels!) that has very recently been converted to a center for music and dance. Caroline and I stayed in the nicest hostel-dorms in history.




On the last night, there was a ball where we danced all of the contredanses we learned in the week. People were dressed in costumes from about 1650-1810. It was wild! Caroline made a fabulous costume out of her underwear and scraps of fabric and flowers scavenged around Köln, while I elected to just go in my underwear. Super scandal! People were comparing the two of us to Mlle. Guimard, that famous Enlightenment ballerina who had several lovers and her own private, naughty theater (there had just been a lecture on this infamous character in the morning session).











This girl's hair was a marvel-- a mix of her own hair, a sponge, and wig parts.








When the band stopped playing at midnight, a large group of people kept dancing, singing the tunes, and then one dancer whipped out his accordion! You can keep your mash pits and raves, I would rather cut some capers with these disheveled hedonists.













We stumbled into bed around 3am.