Maybe my fascination with Latin culture came from my father. After his 1955 trip to Cuba with my mother, he lifted me onto his feet mamboed me around the kitchen on his insteps, my small feet trying to follow and not fall off. His interest in Latin dance was unusual for a Jewish businessman in a 1950s Ohio suburb, but he didn't stop there. At the dinner table he'd drill me on Spanish, making me learn words which by the time I actually needed them, I'd long forgotten. "Donde the baño?" Years later in the Baja, in the company of bonafide Mexicans, he would ennunciate his Spanish so slowly and loudly that I'd look for somewhere to hide.
It wasn't until thirty years later that I came to my own exploration of Latin culture. In my 1990's incarnation as a clothing designer, I had my first real taste of salsa music which was played by the workers in the cutting rooms of factories and in the warehouses
at Malden Mills. The music brightened the dingy rooms, and it was hard not to tap my toes or to keep myself from dancing as I was doing business, since the music made it nearly impossible to stand still. I realized that something was happening in this country. There were suddenly restaurants in Lawrence, Massachusetts, where the chalkboard menus were scrawled in Spanish, and there was no English. Suddenly, Spanish was everywhere, as was Latin culture. It appeared vibrant and joyous to me, but still something to which I had no real access. I felt like a tourist.
Then, nearly six years ago, at the suggestion of a friend, I went to an Argentine tango class where I immediately got hooked on the music and the beauty of the dance. It was more than just learning tango steps and their Spanish names. It was forgetting that I'd grown up in that Ohio suburb and discovering that I have another side to me –– a side that's a whole lot more dramatic. And there was something else. In Latin dance, you know you've had a good dance when you step into your partner's energy and climb aboard for a ride –– something I'd never experienced in all my years of other kinds of dance. I loved the connection and the intimacy.
Still, it wasn't until two years later when I went to Mexico that I realized that there are parts of the world where English isn't spoken, and what's more, they're happy perfectly happy that way. Finally, I wanted to learn Spanish –– at first for survival, but also because I was charmed by it. When I got home I bought "Spanish for Gringos" and played the CD in my car until I was sick of it, but was up and running with elementary Spanish for another trip to Mexico the following year. I studied conversational Spanish there and was able to have simple conversations –– it was better than nothing. It was on that trip when I also discovered what salsa dance really looked like and found myself smitten with another Latin dance. Salsa combines some of the moves of swing, but with the sexy intensity of tango. When I came home, I began studying salsa with Greg Coles, an excellent teacher on Boston's North Shore. Although the footwork is simpler than tango and swing, salsa had it's own challenges. I had to lose my good-girl demeanor and learn how to wiggle!
Latin culture is here to stay. We may live in America, but we are citizens of the world. There is room for everyone and we have much to learn from other cultures. The Latin people I've had the pleasure to meet are warm and vibrant as their music, and sometimes as spicy as their food. We are experiencing the melting pot –– and occassiona just to challenge myself, I select "Español" at the ATM or sometimes "press one for Spanish" on the phone. I hear it on the streets and I practice it at the new Mexican restaurant in down the street. (May I recommend Cielito Lindo in Beverly, Massachusetts?), and most of all, I love the music. Bellamia Trattortia, another cute little restaurant in downtown Beverly, showcases Grupo Fantasia, my now favorite salsa band, live for listening and for dancing.
I am bringing you just a taste of Latin in this issue of Zingology. You can sample the music, learn about the dance, read some fiction. Please enjoy the following samplings in this issue, where you will also find photos and poetry by Lena Bartula; who co-owns an art center in Pozos, Mexico, Teresa Elguezabal; a Baltimore writer, who writes about growing up in a Mexican family, Luis Cruz; who shows his Puerto Rican roots with this vibrant colors in his salsa dance paintings, and Erik Lindgren; an accomplished composer (see music section) who is premiering a new tango in this issue.
CHAVA HUDSON, publisher of zingology.com, is a writer, artist, and professional web designer. After years of recovering from growing up in Ohio, she is now an avid Latin dancer, living on Boston's North Shore.
