How I sort of – but not really – salsa danced in Cyprus despite trying to avoid all things salsa.

There is a hotel in Cyprus that I visit regularly – The Azia Resort and Spa – in Paphos, where I go and just “be” for a while.  Where the most important and difficult decisions of the day are a. which way shall i point the sunbed – the pool or the sea? b.  where shall we eat?  That’s it.

And it’s where i allow myself to bathe in the light and the colour of the sea and the palm trees, immerse myself in the the pinks and whites and yellows of the bouganvaellia, and gaze at the slow sunsets when the sky turns from pink, to purple to clear, starlit black.

It’s where I walk around in bare feet all day just so i can feel the warmth of the grass and the heat of the paths, where I run through sprinklers in the evenings when I am wearing clothes – not a swimming costume – just because it feels nice and i know i will dry quite soon anyway.  Where every day is a Bad Hair Day, because of the heat, but who cares.  And where I jump in the pool clumsily and noisilyfor no reason other than it feels nice and it embarrasses my children. (getting in and out of the hammock is also good for this, too, as I have to roll onto the floor to disembark)

Sometimes we venture out of this little piece of heaven into the bright lights of Paphos. 

I had no desire to dance salsa, speak salsa or feel salsa.  i wanted to escape from everything and be someone else for a while.   One evening, it didn’t quite work like that…….

My children and i sat down at a restaurant prepared to eat slowly and watch the world amble by.

I looked up at an adjascent wall and saw something that wasn’t there last year. A big orange sign.  it said Salsa Classes every Thursday – salsa, merengue, bachata, cha cha, regaetton.

I sighed.  Of all the chairs at all the tables in all the restuarants in Paphos, i had to pick the chair that faced the sign advertising the thing I was trying to escape.  Really, this year I was definately trying to escape.

But, I thought, this is Tuesday, not Thursday, and there will be no music to set my feet tapping or my bottom wiggling and make me ache to dance.

But, then it began to happen.  You know I was trying to escape and be someone else.  Well, nope, not tonight.

The manager of the restaurant decided to share his encycloapedic knowledge of the geograpy of the UK with us.  And very, very impressive it was.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

I told him. Then listened open mouthed as he mentioned two night clubs in the town, a few roads, the main trunk roads and quite a few towns round and about.  We gave him a well deserved round of applause.

A short while later a man from Manchester paused to look at the menu.

“Where are you from?” asked the manager.

“Manchester,” said the man, who then listened open mouthed as he told him the main routes in and out of Machester, plus some towns round and about

Another round of applause

As we were leaving, the manager was talking to a couple, and called us over.

“Where are you from?” he asked the lady.

She told him – a town near to us.

“Listen to this,” I said, “This is impressive.”

Then he told her about her town, where it was near, and what roads you could take to get there.

Another round of applause.

And then it happened……a couple of high fives, and then, “Let’s dance!”he said, so there I was, a 30 second dance on the harbour in Paphos, next to a sign that said, Salsa every Thursday – salsa, merengue, bachata, cha cha, regaetton.

And as I ran after my children (who had disappeared into the crowds, embarrassed, as usual), I thought….how did that happen? And how come of all the people in all the restaurants in all of Paphos it happened to the one that salsa dances – the one that wanted to escape from salsa, for a while at least….

And the reason is, that every time something happens that makes me want to walk away from salsa, it wont let me go.  It waves at me and goes “I’m in your blood whether you like it or not.  You aint going nowhere else, are you, really.  Enjoy the sunsets, and see you next week……..

Wonder what the salsa classes are like in Paphos, then…?

 

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