Finalmente, fui a bailar salsa!
Although I realize that banda, rock, tejano and norteño are traditionally more popular genres of music in Mexico, I know so many amazing salsa dancers who are from various parts of the country. So naturally I expected that there would be more than just one official salon for dancing salsa. To my dismay, this was not the case.
So after waiting days for the club to re-open on Thursday, I was so excited when Ivan and Nancy took me to MamaRumba to get my salsa fix. My heart filled with anticipation as we pulled up to the club around midnight. There were countless people waiting in line and a small crowd gathered around a man cooking Chicharrón (fried pork rinds) out front. Despite the seductive smell of fresh baked pastries and deep fried food, I practically ran inside and immediately stripped off my many layers of heavy clothing as a death row inmate might consume his last meal.
I have to admit that I was quite pleased with the spacious two-story building, walls adorned modern with Mexican and Caribbean works of art. Both floors were packed wall to wall with people dancing
as if a large cash prize were being awarded to the victors.
The stirring sounds of the clave, timbales and congas roused a carnal appetite deep within me. I felt the hairs on my arm rise when the shrill sound of the trumpets made their debut, as if to command the attention of all who were present. The smooth vocal styling of singers in the ten piece orchestra set my soul at ease. Just as I took a step closer to the stage, I felt a tug at my hand then turned around to find a suavely dressed young man pleading for me to dance with him. Just as I prepared my self to do so, he asked me to wait then disappeared into the crowd. I being my antsy self, turned away on a mission to find someone else to dance with. But before I could, the dapperly dressed mystery man had returned, this time he offered me a white rose, grabbed my free hand to kiss it then said some line I was sure I had previously heard in some romantic comedy from the nineties.
I danced with him once before being whisked away by some other guy.
Eventually I asked an athletic Cuban guy to dance with me and boy did I get the ride of my life! He flipped, dipped and tossed me like croutons in a salad! Although I'm no amateur, it turns out he he's a current salsa dance title holder. Needless to say my muscles were cramping and my lungs thoroughly deprived of oxygen after dancing the 13 minute song with him. I felt as if I had just run a marathon after smoking a pack of cigarettes. Ay! I realized that I hadn't died of exhaustion and gone to salsa heaven when he lifted me from the ground to behold the crowd of people who now encircled us with loud applause and cheers. Suddenly men were tugging on both arms simultaneously to dance with them. I became overwhelmed and hadn't felt so out of shape in a long time. But just as athlete pushes
one self to finish an event, I danced non-stop with around thirty partners.
I was most excited to meet a group of of fellow morenitos from Cuba, who welcomed and embraced me like a family member. After being starred at, poked and prodded at like an alien life form by so many locals all week, it felt good to be accepted and made to feel normal again. The funny thing is that two of the guys insisted I was lying about my not being Cuban. All week I was advised not to advertise that I was from America, and understandably so with all of the kidnappings and bloodshed occurring all over the country. So the one night I finally admitted that I'm part American, an argument ensued over the fact that I didn't dance or speak Spanish like an American so couldn't possibly be so!
After twirling, dipping and sweating until my feet were on fire that night, I had to be pried from the dance floor by my friends who had had their fill of mojitos, crowded walkways and slippery, sweaty bodies grinding against their dry skin all night. Although it may take days for me to recover from this marathon salsa session, I met some wonderful people and got a serious work out all in one stop!
Although I realize that banda, rock, tejano and norteño are traditionally more popular genres of music in Mexico, I know so many amazing salsa dancers who are from various parts of the country. So naturally I expected that there would be more than just one official salon for dancing salsa. To my dismay, this was not the case.
So after waiting days for the club to re-open on Thursday, I was so excited when Ivan and Nancy took me to MamaRumba to get my salsa fix. My heart filled with anticipation as we pulled up to the club around midnight. There were countless people waiting in line and a small crowd gathered around a man cooking Chicharrón (fried pork rinds) out front. Despite the seductive smell of fresh baked pastries and deep fried food, I practically ran inside and immediately stripped off my many layers of heavy clothing as a death row inmate might consume his last meal.
I have to admit that I was quite pleased with the spacious two-story building, walls adorned modern with Mexican and Caribbean works of art. Both floors were packed wall to wall with people dancing
as if a large cash prize were being awarded to the victors.
The stirring sounds of the clave, timbales and congas roused a carnal appetite deep within me. I felt the hairs on my arm rise when the shrill sound of the trumpets made their debut, as if to command the attention of all who were present. The smooth vocal styling of singers in the ten piece orchestra set my soul at ease. Just as I took a step closer to the stage, I felt a tug at my hand then turned around to find a suavely dressed young man pleading for me to dance with him. Just as I prepared my self to do so, he asked me to wait then disappeared into the crowd. I being my antsy self, turned away on a mission to find someone else to dance with. But before I could, the dapperly dressed mystery man had returned, this time he offered me a white rose, grabbed my free hand to kiss it then said some line I was sure I had previously heard in some romantic comedy from the nineties.
I danced with him once before being whisked away by some other guy.
Eventually I asked an athletic Cuban guy to dance with me and boy did I get the ride of my life! He flipped, dipped and tossed me like croutons in a salad! Although I'm no amateur, it turns out he he's a current salsa dance title holder. Needless to say my muscles were cramping and my lungs thoroughly deprived of oxygen after dancing the 13 minute song with him. I felt as if I had just run a marathon after smoking a pack of cigarettes. Ay! I realized that I hadn't died of exhaustion and gone to salsa heaven when he lifted me from the ground to behold the crowd of people who now encircled us with loud applause and cheers. Suddenly men were tugging on both arms simultaneously to dance with them. I became overwhelmed and hadn't felt so out of shape in a long time. But just as athlete pushes
one self to finish an event, I danced non-stop with around thirty partners.
I was most excited to meet a group of of fellow morenitos from Cuba, who welcomed and embraced me like a family member. After being starred at, poked and prodded at like an alien life form by so many locals all week, it felt good to be accepted and made to feel normal again. The funny thing is that two of the guys insisted I was lying about my not being Cuban. All week I was advised not to advertise that I was from America, and understandably so with all of the kidnappings and bloodshed occurring all over the country. So the one night I finally admitted that I'm part American, an argument ensued over the fact that I didn't dance or speak Spanish like an American so couldn't possibly be so!
After twirling, dipping and sweating until my feet were on fire that night, I had to be pried from the dance floor by my friends who had had their fill of mojitos, crowded walkways and slippery, sweaty bodies grinding against their dry skin all night. Although it may take days for me to recover from this marathon salsa session, I met some wonderful people and got a serious work out all in one stop!
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