You might notice that I haven’t posted for nine days… I have no excuse; I’ve just been lazy.
It appears that the last thing that I mentioned was starting salsa. So I’ll try to rememeber as many things between then and now as I can. Here we go:
So the first and second salsa classes went well enough. I didn’t enjoy myself, but the experience wasn’t completely awful. We had private instruction both days, in a nice space in a bar called Cuba Mia, and I even got a bit of a handle on some of the extremely simple moves. It was very clear, however, that even two weeks of private instruction would leave me completely incapable of dancing salsa…
The third night was awful. Horrendous, even. We were in a gymnaseum that is about half as far away from our flat as Cuba Mia, and which promptly turned into a sauna once everyone got there and started moving. Our guy who was supposed to be teaching us the basics wasn’t there, and so we had to join the partner-switching ranks of the intermediate group. There were roughly 30 people there, with a nearly perfect man:woman ratio of 1:1. But I had no idea what the hell I was doing. They were working on some sequence of maneuvers that they had started the previous night, which involved some turning, spinning, hugging, strangling, wave-like arm motions, and so on. I didn’t even know how to move my feet properly, so I just did my best to do the arm crap while walking around. Most of my partners were sympathetic, but a few were awfully demanding even though I clearly had no idea what was going on.
So after apologizing to 15 women for my suckiness, not learning anything, feeling like an idiot, and then dripping sweat and nearly having a heat stroke to boot, I decided that it would be my last week of salsa. Ever.
The next night (Thursday), the Don Quijote school had a introductory salsa class, so we figured we’d give that a shot and see if we might learn anything. We didn’t, and it was a slightly bizarre experience. The instructor showed up on Mexico time (10+ minutes late), set up a crappy CD player, and then stunned us with his extremely tight pants. As the gf whispered: “those could be my yoga pants…” Then he had us step quickly and shake our butts around, before walking us through some basic partner-dancing. The partner-dancing wasn’t bad, but it seemed to be an entirely different dance than the one we had been learning the three nights before. So although the class was bearable, it wasn’t really worth much.
Fortunately the gf decided over the weekend that we didn’t need to go to salsa this week, so I didn’t have to go through the process of trying to get out of it without causing emotional damage. I’m not exactly sure why she made that decision, but I have a feeling it had something to do with her recognizing my extreme desire to not have to do it anymore.
Now let’s see… That covers the salsa bit, now I just have to remember what else we did…
Some day last week we went to the Museo de las Leyendas de Guanajuato (Museum of Guanajuato Legends) with a girl from our class. This was an incredibly odd, though not bad, museum. Basically, we payed 50 pesos to get in (que caro!) and then ended up with a guide who walked us through everything while explaining in Spanish, meaning that we spent most of the time deeply confused. The guide would walk us through dark, maze-like passages until would arrive at glass-enclosed displayes. She would then say something in Spanish about the legend being enacted in the case, just before flipping on a switch that would set some animatronics in motion. The some machines would whirr and teddy-bears, barbies, mummies, skeletons, and the like (depending on the particular legend) would do something and say some stuff (also in Spanish).
We left the museum without having learned any of the legends of guanajuato, but we got to see some entertaining displays. At one point, we were underground below a “graveyard” and would look into coffins to see things like a knitting skeleton, or a skeleton reading skeleton pr0n (I’m not kidding) while his skeleton-goldfish swam around in a fishbowl. At another, the guide flipped on the lights in the hallway so that we could see our reflections in the class, at which point some ghostly figures behind the glass would move across, lit up by a black light. The effect was that it seemed that we were seeing ghosts walking through our reflections in the mirror. All of the ghosts were drunk (still not kidding), and one came through on his back giving cat whistles, as if he was looking up our skirts (none of us were wearing skirts)…
So that museum is probably worth a trip, even if just for the sheer ridiculousness of the place.
I’m sure that there was more that we did, but I can’t remember at the moment. I’ll post more as I think of it.