Shades of Red

Last Sunday was a red day.

It started out while teaching English classes across town. One of the professors had invited me to his class to help him out. When I walked in the class he told me the topic and said "They're all yours". He handed me the white board marker, had a seat and turned into a semi unruly spectator. It was an awkward first ten mintues. That was about how long it took to find the topic that the students wanted to talk about. It was the same topic that would have been interesting in almost any classroom. We talked about girl friends and boy friends - what they are really like and what they would ideally be like. According to that group of students It seems that what they are really like is something that might leave most a bit wanting and what they ideally would be like is something a bit unrealisitc - who knew?
In the midst of the students getting fired up about the shortcomings of their significant others the teacher got inspired. He spoke up from the side of the class "i have a joke, but I can only tell it in spanish". I stood at the front of the class and listened. I don't feel the need to repeat the joke, suffice it to say that it was extremely off-color and left me feeling more than a bit awkward -my company was of mixed gender. I put my head behind the door let out a loud fake laugh and returned some what redder than I was before.
Two seconds later a girl started up a conversation that would change the rest of the day. (I think she noticed the awkwardness and was trying to break my silence). "hey josh, how do you like dancing?" It opened up conversation and better yet an opportunity for Elliot and I to go to a lazy sunday afternoon shindig at someones house.

There were two trumpets, a trombone, a snare drum, and a base drum with a symbol screwed into the top of it playing at the entrance of the house. There were a handfull of people sitting outside and in the main living room that had its doors open to the street there was about 20 people all in rocking chairs rocking and facing the center of the room. No one was dancing.
The señorita that had invited us brought us out a vodka and tonic - custom i suppose- and a plate of cannoli. 15 mintutes into the conversation I asked if I could go see the dancers - that was one of the main reasons I went. It was supposed to be a new type of dance that I hadn't heard of and I was quite curious as to what it would look like. I walked to the living room and looked inside and the same 20 rockers were still full with the exception of one older looking lady that was dancing by herself. "ah, that's nice that she is still able to dance but kind of sad that she is dancing alone" is the thought that raced through my head. She spun around and saw me and I made a bee line for my chair outside. About 30 seconds later there was a tapping on my shoulder and the lady said in English with a heavy Nica accent said "COME DANCE WITH ME!" I let her know that I was not familiar with that kind of dancing and that I would be a poor choice as a dance partner. "COME ANYWAY!" She was the age that I remembered my grandmother at when she was in her grandmotherly prime of life . My Grandmother loved to dance and if she had asked some fella such as my self to accompany her to the dance floor and he had said no then I would have been more than a bit angry. That was the thought process that shot through my head. So I accompanied her to the dance floor. We were the first ones to get there but all any dance floor needs is one pair of dancers to break the ice and the rest will follow. An hour into it no one had followed. Grandmother was inspired by more spirits than anyone half her age and twice her size would have needed and the crowd all rocked in unison and occasionally nodded in approvement and let words out like "ese gringo si sabe bailar". My face looked mildly sunburned for the entire hour.
The señorita that invited us eventually came to get me and I was able to sit long enough for my face to regain its natural color before the tapping started again. "Let's go dance again!" I tried to say no and was even quite generous in offering my companions to accompany her back to the dance floor but they and she wouldn't have it.

The second hour was a little more awkward than the first and she was a little more inspired. The Maypole music -Nicaraguan Music from the Caribbean side of the country- came on and her interpretation of it involved her backside touching the ground multiple times. I was shocked and amazed. The fact that she could do that and not fall over was more than impressive -keep in mind she had age and alcohol going strongly against her. So we danced. At the end of the second session she let me know her opinion of my dancing and then planted a huge sweaty kiss on the side of my cheek. My face was on fire.

On the way home Elliot let the teasing rip. We sat down with Fran at the table and he felt the need for some reason to recount our wonderful afternoon in one sided detail to her. He didn't get 2 minutes into the story before he got interrupted by his phone ringing. He answered and then began talking in English, then he turned and with a massive grin on his face handed me the phone.

"hello"
"HI, Josh it's me ..., I wanted you to know what fun I had dancing and that I want to invite you to go out dancing with us the next time we go out."
"umm, wow, that's really nice of you, uh yeah, well yes you just keep me posted"
"OK, but don't forget!, I will see you soon!"
"que tengas un buen dia"

Fran and Elliot and heard the whole conversation. The ribbing stared again and was a bit harder this time.
I spent the afternoon wondering how lady luck had managed to bring me and grandma together on the dance floor instead of Shakira's clone. I suppose I will be working on making lemonade out of this one for a while.