A Sprinkling of Salsa

On the bus on the way to meet up with Javier, (a friend of Jessica´s from when she studied abroad in Mexico who has invited us to a bar!) Jessica tells us about him. Javier is very kind and generous and also lots of fun--once they made all types of salsa and spent a whole night going around and sampling it.

At least that´s what I deduce Jessica is saying. She is speaking Spanish for my benefit as I told her it´s hard for me to learn because many people talk to me in English. However, I can´t understand her story but I catch the word ¨salsa¨ and she moves her hands around. Since she loves to cook, I figure the story is condiment related. As it turns out, she was explaining that Javier likes to dance salsa, and is a great partner because he´ll grab you and throw you around and you don´t have to know how to dance.

Upon meeting Javier, everything she says seems true as he is tall and thin and looks as if he could easily glide around the dance floor. He tells us that he is inviting us out, which confuses me as I think ¨Of course you´ invited us, that´s why we are here.¨ However, he was using an expression to explain that all bar covers and drinks would be his treat.

Once Javier´s friend Hidalgo and Jess´s old roommate Maddie arrive, we pile into Javier´s big, blue van to go to a place called the Beer Hall, where another of his friends will be playing in a band. Javier says that he would have taken us in the Corvette he just bought from America, but it would have been to small for everyone to fit. The differences in his cars speak to the ways in which his personality seems to duel with itself. Javier teaches religion in a school, volunteers in an orphanage, and earns much of his income by selling beer to small shops. He wants to go to Rome to get a Master´s in Religion, and he might have been a priest except for the fact that he loves girls and wants to get married and have 30 children.

Both he and Hidalgo are very gentlemanly in a way uncommon to most men in the United States. As we make our way to the bar, they open and close our doors, walk on the part of the sidewalk closest to oncoming cars and wait for us to step up on sidewalks or enter a building before they do the same.

Anyone who has ever been in a bar that primarily sells beer can imagine what the Beer Hall is like--it´s small, crowded and dark and waitresses wearing tight, red polo shirts serve fried food and popcorn. While the band is between sets, huge, giant television screens play 80´s music videos. When I catch myself humming along to Madonna´s ¨Material Girl,¨ I remember that I am in Mexico to take a stand against materialism and feel a little unmissionary-like being at a bar. However, breaks from Santa Fe are important, as is having friends under 30 who haven´t taken vows.

Not that it´s easy making friends with the guys--I can barely understand them as it is, but the loud noise makes it impossible to make small talk. Once the band starts, everyone gives up on communicating. They play some sort of heavy metal with a good, but loud beat, but and no one can tell if they are singing in English or Spanish. Javier says that it´s not really his scene, but he´s there to support his friend and afterward we will go somewhere better.

We end up at the Mambo Lounge, a huge venue containing palm trees, where waiters wear long white sleeves. After a round of mojitos, we head out to the big, wooden dance floor, which is an interactive experienxce as lights flash and day glow sticks are thrown from the stage. After some pop music, a band arrives and begins playing ranchero and merangue music, to the delight of Javier, Hidalgo and everyone else, because this means it´s time for salsa.

I´ve taken tango (which is similar to salsa) lessons twice and I found it diffiuclt as I lack rhythm and a sense of direction. When it comes to salsa, I repeat the same strategy I utilized in tango which is to follow my partner and look into his eyes, which works as Javier and Hidalgo are experts at the dance. It also helps to smile a lot and wave my hair around and soon I am trying all sorts of complicated twiests and turns. One of the boy dancers on stage-a kid wearing tight, white jeans and ripped white T-shirt who I assume is at least 18-tugs at me shirtsleeve and winks, and I start to feel as if I am assimilating.

After a lot of dancing, we take a break, except for Jackie, who is stuck on the dance floor. My 22-year old, fresh from college roommate has been scooped up by a 30-something man who promises to take her on a motorcycle ride. We rescue her and then have a final dance to Hawaiin music, complete with fire explosions, hula dancers and lauis.

The night ends at four in the morning and everyone (except me) eats hot dogs topped with guacomole and hot peppers from a street vendor. We are to spend the night at Javier´s and he stops to get milk for our breakfast and then inflates the air mattresses he has gotten for us to sleep on. He is a champ, because he has to get up at 6:30 in the morning for work, and before we all head to bed, he says we should all meet up again soon.

Exhausted, I fall asleep almost immediately My first night on the town has been exhilerating and while it didn´t help me imporve my Spanish, I learned something about the language of salsa, which seems to be just as useful in fitting in and getting a taste of the culture.