Pink Spandex, Plastic Suits and a Whole lot of Butt

A couple of weeks ago I took my friend Andrea up on an offer to attend a dance class with her. It was probably one of the best decisions I have ever made. Later, I found myself at a loss for words when descibing it to my friend Julia.

Julia: So what kind of dance class is it?
Lauren: Well, in theory it's 'Latin Rhythms', but I've been told it can spontaneously turn into an aerobics class.
Julia: Nicaragua is a strange country, isn't it?
Lauren: Yes, yes it is.

Later, as I stood in a brightly lit room in the Academia Nicaraguense de Danza, staring at geckos on the wall, I was no closer to a description. To begin with, it is taught by a flamboyantly homosexual man named Michael (not Miguel). If I hadn't already been convinced by his preference for men by the expressive gestures, tight shirts and incredible hip movement, I would have know for sure the day he blew himself a kiss in the mirror. It was that day I decided that, I too, needed to start blowing myself kisses in the mirror. I digress.

I began this class because, despite living in Latin America for over 15 months, I still don't know how to dance salsa, cumpia, machata or merengue. I'm not sure if I'll be able to dance any of these when I finish, but, at the very least I'm sure I'll be able to better shake my butt. The music is blasted so loud that I can rarely hear what is being shouted by the teacher. I'll normally just invent something I think he should be saying, like, 'More hips!', 'Shoulders!' and 'Lorena, what the hell are you doing?!' Michael also won't accept that people who are not Latino are not born with the ability to move their hips and shoulders in opposite directions while moving across a room. I used to try and stand in front of the mirrors along the wall to improve, but I stopped when watching myself dancing became too depressing. I'm sure at some point, after a lot of practice, the movements I am learning will look attractive, but for now they just look spastic. Still, I persevere! Four days a week I can be found learning to shake my new found Latino booty with the help of Michael and a room full of encouraging women.


Can you pick me out of the group picture? I'm the one who's skin tone is reflecting light.

Andrea and I with the famous Michael.

Freestyling at our Valentine's Day party. Apparently I was supposed to dress up, but I though it was a regular dance class. These types of mis communications are commun when you rarely understand what is going on.