Salsa and disco

Tony, Josh and I enrolled in a salsa class. Tony has not timing and no sense of how to move at all. Josh understands the timing of music (naturally) and can follow instructions about which foot goes where, but can´t make it look good or natural. I have some sense of timing and some idea how to roll my hips. It was great fun! No matter how many times the gorgeous dance intructor push Tony away from me to demonstrate what he should be doing, he simply could not get it. He did, however, provide comic relief for all.

The problem was that the lesson was on a roof under some plastic sheeting, it was stiffing hot and there was no breeze. Josh did an impersonation of Pat Rafter playing tennis on a 40 degree day, Tony panted like a dog and I fanned myself with my skirt. Charles (the smart one) sat and relaxed with an ice-cream.

Later that night we trekked up to the cave disco. I don´t believe there is anything like it anywhere in the world. You have to treck past a semi-demolished church on the outskirts of town, through the mud, over the broken cobblestones, all in the dark. If you keep going way beyond when your senses have told you to stop, you get to a cve entrance. It costs $3 to get in and that includes a drink. After following the path down and around, into the belly of the beast, you eventually get to the disco. And it does not disappoint! Mirror ball, fancy bar, strobe lights and really bad music. Tony and I left at about 11 to stumble back home with out loosing our footing and the boys stayed on in wonderment.