It’s hard to explain to my Australian (non-dancing) friends, the culture of salsa in Puerto Rico. When you walk into the hotel elevators, Salsa music plays over the hotel loud-speaker. When you wander around the streets of Old San Juan, salsa music floats out of all the bars you pass. It doesn’t matter that the old Puerto Rican couple in the restaurant don’t know fancy footwork and complicated turn patterns, their bodies just feel the groove as the music talks to them.
On Sunday, we went to lunch at a local restaurant owned by one of the members of El Gran Combo (one of the world’s best, and my personal favourite, salsa band). Called “Latin Roots” the restaurant was tucked away on a side-street of Old San Juan, which we got to by taxi (after negotiating our price – taxis in Puerto Rico don’t have functional meters, so if you ever visit, make sure to negotiate the price before you get in.)
The restaurant tables were spread around the outside of a dance floor, with a stage for – wait for it – the live band. Yep, every day you can find amazing live music to get your foot tapping while you eat. The band was a 5 piece that day (quite small for a salsa band) but they were fantastic, and filled the room easily with some brilliant beats. Sure enough, it didn’t take long for us to start the dance floor, much to the delight of the locals – who were thrilled to find out that people dance salsa in Australia!
But the unforgettable moment for me was not our dancing, or the amazing music, or even the tasty food. It was at the end of our meal, when the band played a slow cha cha cha. There were about five older Puerto Rican couples on the floor dancing. All of them danced for each other. Completely captured in their own private worlds. Just them, their bodies, and the smooth, smooth music. Maybe it was caused by the VERY strong gin and tonic (possibly missing tonic?) I had with lunch, but I felt a warm glow at what was a completely beautiful moment.
That is why I dance.
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