story and photos by Paul Ross
“I would do anything for love, but I won’t
dance, don’t ask me.”
-Meatloaf & Fred Astaire
I’m an American baby boomer who doesn’t dance. It was an awkward social activity for a lot of guys in my generation and the excuse for not doing so was that I was always playing in bands –for other people’s dancing. The story is plausible because it’s partly true. But, somehow, there I was, salsa’ing mi cola off at midnight in Medellin, Colombia.
Salsa dancers, Medellin, Colombia.
HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?
Flashback ––
Arriving in the capital city, Bogota, in search of stories with my wife and travel partner Judie, Chef Sofia Samper whisked us like compliant egg whites off to a large local market. There she shopped for select delicacies to be incorporated into a custom lunch at her cooking school/restaurant. Music thumped in the background throughout the marketplace.
During the subsequent lesson in Colombian cuisine at trendy Casa 95, Chef Sofia danced around her kitchen to an infectious Latin beat. And I began tapping my toe.