Saturday night I went out salsa dancing to a place called Mi Barrio Soleado, a sort of pan-Latino restaurant/nightclub with signs about Havana but food that made a few furtive attempts at Mexico. (We didn't eat there, I just found the menu amusing). I went with some friends from work. The biggest surprise was Ann, a Swede who had completely downplayed her salsa skills, and her husband Patrick, who turned out to be uber-salsa mavens. They tore up the dance floor like nobody's business. It turns out Patrick once danced on the professional salsa circuit. Plus, various Cuban people kept coming up to them and saying, "Ann! Patrick! Its been so long! How have you been!!" I was impressed. It is funny to learn something surprising about someone that you have known for a while.
Elisabeth, David, and I mostly stuck to merengue and tried not to do anything embarrassing. When it came to salsa, I figured a little hip swiveling goes a long way. That was the extent of it for my moves. Fortunately this wasn't Miami. The French people knew even less than we did.