I took a trip out shopping again. Made a complete fool of myself in the Almacen. I got some crudo and tinned tomatoes then went to pay. At the till I remembered I had forgotten the minced beef. So I left my things there and rushed to the butcher. “Media kilo de picante?” I asked “Que picante?” he asked me. I looked baffled and pointed to the minced beef “picada!” he said. Too many similar words in this language. It made his day anyway.
Another Tuesday another trip to Nuevo Chique. Today we say goodbye to Paloma and Bret, they return to France tomorrow. There was Champagne flowing in the foyer for a while then it was back to the dancing.
I managed a dance with Mercedes, a chance to thank her for the Cuban night and pass my best wishes on to Jorge.
There was a different feel here tonight. There is always a passage of tourists here amongst the locals. Tonight though, it seems to be all British. I was sat in a whole row of Brits, none of whom seemed to want to dance with Viv. I am afraid I take a rather selfish view, if the men won’t dance with Viv then I won’t dance with their wives. There are more than enough women any way and I failed to dance with all those that I had wanted to dance with.
We never see this from other nationalities. The British come and dance only with those who have come with them. Another group arrived and sat at the far end, a few did get up to dance, but again with no one out of their group. Their leader, no doubt proud that he had shown them a traditional milonga, got up twice. To me though this is like going to an African village and staring at them from the perimeter making their bread or threading beads. To know and be a part of the milonga, you have to join in, learn to cabeceo, dance with a local, yes and even suffer the embarrassment of rejection.
We saw Anna again, unfortunately she left before I danced with her. Viv said she had not had a single dance. Again the dynamic was not good, it is always the way when numbers are up, the women have trouble getting dances.