Cuba Mia, Cuba Libre

I spent a couple evenings at the local salsa joint -- well, actually, there are two. Cuba Mia is the newer and trendier one, and is populated by a whole cast of hot young dancers who, I can only assume, are there every night choreographing their moves.

Went with a couple of my Mexican homeboys from school, along with a few other gringas. The Mexis promptly ordered bottles of Coke and Bacardi, which is the popular thing to drink when hanging out in a club. Lucky for me, I don't really like rum and Coke, so I didn't suffer from excessive dizziness while being spun around the dance floor.

Friday night's dancing escapade was followed up (after a few hours of sleep) by a salsa lesson on the roof of the house where I live. I think I may be getting closer to fulfilling my dream of being a "Solid Gold" competition dancer. . . or maybe a Fly Girl. Move over, J. Lo. I may have an Italian accent while speaking Spanish, but there's no oregano in my salsa.

After that, I took the bus to Irapuato -- a more industrial city about an hour from here. My friend Almendra invited me to meet her friends and go to a couple of parties with her. One woman at the birthday party, where we passed the afternoon and evening, had a cast on her nose and various black and blue marks on her face. I hesitated to ask because I wondered if she'd suffered some domestic abuse or some horrible accident. Fortunately, no -- she was just recovering from a nose job.