In February of 2003 our entire anesthesia department took a vacation to Costa Rica; wives and girl friend included. (That would be 3 wives, one GF.) One of the places we visited was the Arenal volcano at La Fortuna. We stayed in the area a couple of days and in the wee hours one morning we did get to see the volcano erupt. While we were there, there was some kind of local fair, carnival or shin-dig of some sort going on in La Fortuna so the eight of us went to town to party. The two main Cerveza producers in Costa Rica each had a tent set up and each tent had a dance floor. Now, let me tell you the Ticos, as the locals a referred to, love to drink beer and they also love to dance. At the first tent we joined right in the party and were cheered on from the locals. Now mind you, the males among us are a pretty sad sight when it comes to dancing. As is frequently the case with American men; they have limited dancing skills. Growing up we used to go to dances and the boys would stand along the periphery of the gym and ogle the girls while they danced with each other. They, or at least I, never tried too hard to learn how to dance. We lived for the "slow" dances so that we could snuggle close to a current crush and just shuffle our way through a rudimentary two step.

Make no mistake, I'm no dancer and I was never more embarrassed by that fact than when we mozied over to the second beer tent. Every Tico there was dancing almost every song and the men were out there and they were awesome dancers, each and every one. So much so that I refused to dance anything but slow dances, which were few and far between. Those Tico fellows put us to shame. They did however ask our ladies to dance with them and the girls held their own pretty well.
This will give you an idea. Just imagine a dance floor full of folks like this doing their thing.

Needless to say, when it comes to dancing, I'm more of a watcher than a doer. One of the draw backs to living in rural America is the paucity of amenities such as nearby dance classes.
Even at this time of year I'm relegated to observing the Sugar Plum fairy and her exquisite dance, or going up to the canal in Ottawa and watching the ice dancers! Oh yes, I can skate, just no dancing on skates. ;)


Perhaps I could move to Australia and meet up with Matilda?
Labels: Costa Rica, Dance #89, salsa, Sunday scribblings