Glory Ho

So I know, I know. You’re thinking: Salsa is a Latin American thing. Perhaps Peurto Rican? Maybe it comes from Cuba, the Dominican Republic or Columbia? And you, Andrea, are volunteering in Bulgaria. Truth is, this similar-to-Mambo, side to side, eigh-count dance came from all these places. But New York first came up with the nickname.

The word “salsa” in any context (Mexican garnish or Pachanga), means to “spice things up.”

But rest assured that since we’re in Bulgaria, a land of virtually spice-less food, it’s all about the dance. Salsa lessons are very popular, as they were in the United States a few years back. For around four leva (about $2.50) you can feel sexy with about 35 other fresh, young twenty-somethings (oh my god I am not a twenty something) as you watch the hottest body of all count to ten up on stage.

It was in a back-alley, between-buildings, up the sign-less stairs sort of place—I never would have found it on my own. The Lincolns, Toni, Svetlina and a visiting volunteer, Jesse, were leading. Smelling of sweat and feeling red all over (or maybe it was just the flushed faces), it was packed with line after line of smiling girls and guys, most of them in heels, unabashedly ready, it seemed, to attempt salsa. Of course, everything was taught in Bulgarian. Except for the counting, which was in Spanish. But as I twisted and slid and jazz-squared my way through the hour, I realized that despite his incessant instructions, watching and emulating was enough. Everyone moves their hips in a pretty similar language. And there’s no doubt that my multiple viewings of Dirty Dancing was positively crucial to my progress.

The best part as that it felt so much like America! People were unafraid to look the fool. Nervous, but happy sideways glances and “we’re in this together” looks all around. That enormously satisfying feeling most often experienced amid a public spectacle when you suddenly bond with the stranger on your left.

There, was, in the room, a sense of community. You see, one of the major components missing from the adult culture here are “clubs”. I’m not talking about post-midnight sweaty dance spaces, but common interest groups. So think about it (take a deep breath) no book clubs, running clubs, scrapbook clubs, baby clubs, dinner clubs, writing clubs, chess clubs, sewing clubs, biking clubs, climbing clubs, car clubs, investment clubs, card clubs, poker clubs and you get the point. I could spin the same diatribe on neighborhood councils, junior leagues, press clubs and professional associations. They’re pretty rare.

In America, we like to gather, share ideas, debate and playfully smother our opinions all over our fellow friends, enemies (and relatives!). Our society, schools, professions, and neighborhoods encourage us to “get together” all the time. These institutions wisely know that group-play as such leads to self-evolution and societal progress. And we do, or rather, I did.

So what’s the story? Are Bulgarians anti-social creatures? Why don’t they more often organize these get togethers? I don’t know for sure. Perhaps due to the oppressive, fear-inducing, communism of the past, (meetings in the home may have created suspicions of clandestine activity) as well as the European general disregard for schedules, they just tend to go about gathering in a less formal manner. In place of schedules, dues, nominated positions, Christmas party or committees, there are wildly-flowing, late-starting, competition-free meetings and conversations over cappuccino at the corner. In the U.S., we work more hours, host more dinner parties and always seem to be late for the next meeting. Perhaps were a bit too uptight?

The question, then, becomes: Is societal progress and personal growth possible without some structure? Yes, I think so, but structure certainly speeds up the process and increases efficiency. And you know America: speed and efficiency are top priorities. Why? Because this allows us to do more. And more, at least when you’re talking about knowledge, professional progress or intellectual growth, (not sweaters or subarus,) to me, is actually better.

So I guess salsa lessons are a start. It’s not exactly a common interest group. Someone’s making money and there’s no public (or private) exchange between myself and the other participants. But maybe, if we can listen, smile and move together, in a weekly scheduled format, there’s hope for more.