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SOCIETY

Spain’s strictly ballroom pensioners

Older generation keeps on its toes by tripping the light fantastic at dance halls in the capital

Senior citizens dancing the evening away at Madrid's La Rosa ballroom.
Senior citizens dancing the evening away at Madrid's La Rosa ballroom.KIKE PARA

José, a sprightly 77-year-old former auctioneer and taxi driver, takes a break and leaves the dance floor of Golden, a ballroom popular with retirees in central Madrid, and where he’s been dancing the evening away with a group of fresh-faced 60-year olds. Sporting a red tie and white shirt, he wipes beads of sweat from his forehead and smiles.

“I’ve been coming here every day since 2001,” he explains. “My first wife joined the Jehovah’s Witnesses and that was the last I saw of her. My second marriage lasted three years, but it didn’t work out. Now I’m addicted to dancing.”

In recent years, a handful of venues in the Spanish capital such as Golden, Stylo, and Palace have begun offering senior citizens ballroom dancing sessions from 6pm to 11pm, or sometimes until midnight.

Gregorio Ortiz, 76, from the central province of Soria, started working at La Rosa, in Madrid’s working class Carabanchel district, almost 50 years ago and is now the owner, although his son Sergio runs it on a day-to-day basis.

Sometimes they look like they’re on their last legs, but once they get on the dance floor, they're unstoppable. It’s amazing Sergio, owner of La Rosa ballroom

“Ninety percent of our customers are pensioners,” he says. “We get 80-year-olds coming Thursday through Sunday; they never miss a night. We also have non-smokers and teetotalers who have been told to come by their doctors.

“Sometimes when you see them come in,” he continues, “they look like they’re on their last legs, but once they get on the dance floor, they undergo a transformation and are unstoppable. It’s amazing.”

What’s more, says Sergio, a night at La Rosa provides an opportunity for oldsters to put their glad rags on. “My neighbors tell me they can pick out my customers by how nicely turned out they are,” he explains. “A lot of couples have met here.”

Among the regulars is Marisol, who is greeted by the barman like an old friend. “It’s a tradition – my parents and grandparents used to come here,” she says with a smile, then indicating her vodka and orange, adds: “I used to drink rum and Coke, but afterwards I couldn’t sleep!”

The 71-year-old explains how she walks the 10 minutes to La Rosa every Thursday from her apartment, describing her dancing sessions as an integral part of her liberated lifestyle. “I attended an Opus Dei school from the ages of six to 18 and I could write a book about what I saw there,” she says. “People would be horrified. Not long after I left, I married a lawyer from the Basque Country and we were together for 40 years. We had two children, but I never knew what an orgasm was until I got divorced. For the last 30 years I’ve lived independently, free, without any obligations, doing exactly what I want with my life.”

For Marisol and many of her generation an evening spent on a sprung floor is about making up for lost time: “You have to remember that people of my age lived through an era when there was no freedom. You couldn’t even kiss in the street. Now I don’t want anyone telling me what to do. But with independence comes a price, which is loneliness.” She pauses and for a moment, checking a tear, then concluding: “It’s only been recently that I’ve known what it means to enjoy myself.”

English version by Heather Galloway

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