Its Sunday morning and I can officially claim to be recovering from my first ever peruvian night club experience. It goes without saying that the option to visit the clubs and bars has always been there, and at times the need for a good beer, or the local speciality: the pisco sour, is overpowering. But going out in a gringo group is just no fun, so when the opportuntiy arose to accompany some real locals here in Nazca, I jumped at the opportunity. Nazca is famous for the enigmatic lines left in its surrounding desert in times before Christ. It is famous for this, and only this. As such the night life is not great. Still, I´m always game for a new expeirnece and I was unlikely to be able to effectively tell a good peruvian night club experience from a bad one anyway.

We entered the steamy outdoor party environment, dodging balloons and silly string, and found ourselves in the middle of one big salsa mosh pit, our skin looking almost fluorescently white compared to those around us. We were quite clearly the first white people to make it to this club and as such quite a spectacle. Had the option to peel one´s skin off been available, I might well have taken advantage. If you have been following this blog all the way, you may remember that a while back I was actually taking salsa lessons. These were to be of absolutely zero assistance as the hoards of grinding, pumping peruvians circled in. What to do? Jiggle, and hope to gain sympathy for trying? Joke around like its all below you? or run? Run was really not an option as slicing a way through that load would have been like trying to swim through treacle, with all the stickiness that this metaphore envokes… I think taking the mickey would have been disrespectful, and I wasn´t keen to put 300 peruvian noses out of joint, so jiggling was the only remaining alternative.

I am not blessed with the sort of body that jiggles with ease but oiled by rum, wine, beer, and a good looking salsa instructor, everything began to loosen and I found myself beginning to enjoy the experience. As usual, my white skin gave me a sort of immunity from criticism and as the night rolled on I began to relax into the south american rhythms and feel almost comfortable.

Whatever they thought of me, I am proud to say I survived the experience, and from the looks of things, got Nazca talking. As I wandered down the street one peruvians yelled “Hey white girl, did you sleep with the salsa guy?” There´s nothing like a peruvian turn of phrase.