Lola Loves to do the Cha Cha Cha!

Not even a stubborn case of Giardia can keep Lola from dancing the night away! In yet another improbable twist of events, I just happened to meet the only Indian Salsa fanatic in all of Quebec with intricate knowledge of all the $1.50 Salsa lessons in downtown Montreal. I’ve since tried out the Salsa, Merengue, Cha Cha, Mambo, Swing and even the Valse (Waltz?) and I am definitely hooked! How is it anyway that I’m a 30 years old half-Mexican who can’t dance? It’s unsupportable!

Today I spent the afternoon on Skype ™ with The Swiss Contingent. We talked, laughed and cried for nearly three hours, all for FREE. And yesterday I finally reconnected with my cousins in Veracruz for at least an hour, again for free. This is the Age of the Internets, people, and it’s time to get on board!

In other news, taking out the trash can be dangerous when you live on the second floor. I know this because yesterday I rolled down the stairs while doing just that. Luckily, I have skill when it comes to rolling down steep inclines and I emerged without any broken parts. I can only conclude that God loves me and keeps me alive despite my best attempts to subvert his will.

One thing I’m discovering is that many people here—including me—are fascinated by The United States of America. The fact that we Americans are poised to elect a black man, Barack Hussein Obama, as our next President is nothing less than revolutionary. But America is a revolutionary culture, a culture of vision and energy. Who else is brash enough to build a city of towering hotels and casinos in the middle of a hostile desert or a 3,000 km tunnel under the Atlantic for a vacuum propelled train? Americans are craaaazy in a lovably arrogant and unpredictable sort of way. And while I haven’t met anyone who actually wants to live there, the whole world is on the edge of their seats waiting to see what we’re gonna do next.

That’s not to say that America has a monopoly on crazy. Les Quebequois have their own special brand; July 1^st is moving day…for everyone. That’s right. The powers that be in Quebec have inexplicably decided it was a good idea for everyone to move on the exact same day. Can you say logistical nightmare?

And yesterday I had the fortune (?) to meet some locally grown French Canadian Gangstas. I just happened to stop and ask some guys sitting at a sidewalk café how long it would take me to walk to Parc La Fontaine (a gorgeous park in the middle of the city). They told me it would be at least an hour and a half and suggested I join them instead. I did, and that’s when I noticed their outfits; huge gold-rimmed Gucci sunglasses, white button down shirts with short, rolled-up sleeves, the requisite gold chains, “skinny” jeans and, finally, plastic flip flops. I was not afraid of them and in fact—perhaps because I am from the LA area—foreign “gangstas” usually give me the giggles. All of them appeared to be in their twenties and said they worked with “contracts.” Uh-huh. Okay.

One last note; I had the opportunity to watch the second half of the epic Lakers game the other night at my neighbor Conrad’s house. Conrad was thrilled to explain all about the technical strategy involved (uh-huh) while I had a moment of clarity about sports in general; specifically that they are the equivalent of male soap operas. Finally it’s all starting to make sense! Being the first basketball game that I’ve ever paid attention to I guess I was lucky to witness the Boston Celtics recover a 20+ point deficit in the third quarter to finish the game with a 6 point lead. I was struck by the fierceness of the showdown and the fact that it all amounted to an intense battle of intimidation. I've got to admit I am intrigued by the male species...

Looks like the longer I stay out of my own country, the more I learn about it. And the more I appreciate it. The universe works in mysterious ways indeed.

I love you every one,
a la prochaine!

LMA