How things happen

Last night, I had a moment of seeing all the trails leading to where I am now. It began in the sweaty cave of la discoteca, between a merengue and a salsa with Jefferson, whose gentlemanly manner suits his non-Ecuadorian name. His friend John passed around sips of beer in a small cup and asked me questions--easy ones like softball pitches for kids. John's from Cali, Colombia, and I told him that four Colombianas are the reason I came to South America.

Then Jefferson and I began the salsa. He asked what I was doing despues and I told him I was going to bed. He laughed. He meant after my contract ends in August. Back to Canada or on to another country, I told him. Voy a dormir. Haha. I didn't know anyone else at la discoteca, but some people waved because they had seen me in the swimming race or the Senorita Playaman competition--a silly award-by-applause affair of dancing and speeches.

Jefferson was explaining that the salsa is a slow, romantic dance, and yet all the feet I could see were shuffling too fast to learn from. I just looked up and tried not to worry. Valentines hearts and balloons stood out dark against the neon glow of the black lights, and I remembered that it was February. How had I gotten to this moment of dance, Spanish, and friendship so suddenly?

Let's see. The Colombian women I tutored in Saudi had sparked my interest in South America. My friend Lauren's childhood enchantment with the Galapagos had prompted me to apply to this job. Las Fiests de Galapagos had generated a colossal collective hangover among the American volunteers, which kept them in bed last night, which meant I ended my bar tour at an early 12:30AM and started walking home. My runs had taken me past the construction site where John worked, so when he saw me in the dark he had walked over with Jefferson, the polite dance partner that Sara had introduced me to when I arrived. Finally, four weeks of listening to Sara gossip fluently with everyone in town had imparted enough Spanish that when Jefferson and John invited me to la discoteca, I could say yes and chat with them during reggaeton tracks, during which we all catch our breaths.

The night couldn't get any better, so I walked home ("voy a dormir"), took a shower, and went to sleep.