Outside In

I've been here just shy of two very different months. My first month was all about what I could see outside... and from the outside. My second month, by contrast, has taken me inside: inside the university, inside neighbors' homes, inside the worlds of those I now call friends. Progress of a kind, but if I'm not careful, it could be just... like...

Life in Washington DC, where months can pass without my going to a Smithsonian museum or the Kennedy Center. Maybe that was part of it: my Inside Washington and my Outside Washington had grown too distinct. So I've taken it as my personal challenge in Merida to cultivate both of my Meridas, Outside and Inside, in the months ahead.

Danzon (pronounced "dan-ZON") figures prominently in my Outside Merida. A descendant of late 19th century ballroom dance in Cuba, Danzon has it all: live music with a horn section, men in white fedoras, and everyday people who aren't looking to impress anyone. Danzon is a welcome contrast to the many cultural demonstration-performances sponsored in Merida, which while beautiful, are as much spectacle as spectacular.

In short, what I like about Danzon is that more people do it than watch it.

If you head to the Parque de Santiago on a Tuesday night, you'll see Danzon in full swing: hundreds of couples dancing a mix of cha-cha and salsa to Latin big-band tunes from the 1930's and 40's. There's not a lot of smiling or talking going on: no showing off, no period costumes, just couples, some elegant in their movements, others not.

In fact, on first glance they seem almost joyless, but time tells me there's something special going on here; I see many of the same couples on Sundays when the same band plays at the Parque Santa Lucia. Daylight lends a different mood to the affair, with folks greeting one another and talking between dances. Even so, dancing, the couples move like their Tuesday night selves, with the same, seemingly stoic commitment to enjoyment.

And me? When I go to Danzon, I dance some and gawk more, and this pays off: I find if you watch people long enough, they will eventually disprove what you think you first noticed about them.

After weeks of going to Danzon, I find myself at the Plaza Santa Lucia on a cloudy Sunday morning just before noon. The turnout is low, maybe because it's cold by Merida standards. Then I see this man, and he is exuding joy, letting it shine outward, from the inside. He sees me and waves.

Could it be that others are feeling the same joy? It's actually a beautiful day for dancing, the music is good and rhythmic and romantic, and yet the dancers' faces are unreadable. Are they keeping their joy to themselves, on the inside, where they can savor it? Or is joy just not a necessary part of the equation? I suspect I'm missing the point with my concerns about joy; perhaps there's something else.

I have no idea, of course. This is a place where people don't always smile for pictures, where dignity and composure might be more important than happiness, where happiness might be alive and well Inside Merida.