When you go out at night in Granada, you never know what you're going to find.
Thus, even a week or two afterward, this scene sticks in my mind:
A twentysomething gringa sat smoking on the stoop of the local dance bar, where people mingle and sweat and get naughty with hip hop and salsa and cumbia, and of course, bachata, nearly every night. By day, when the sun fails in hiding its grimy nether regions, the bar is mostly empty, but at night, its dark, dank corners are the places to be and not be seen. Needless to say, twentysomething traveling gringas find the salsa and the dark corners enticing.
She sat there on that hot stoop smoking, perhaps unaware that it's not every evening that a squadron of rough-necked construction guys worked nights pounding the dirt back into place as part of the current sewer project. Their truck sat idling in the middle of the junction of two streets, just outside the bar, while the crew sweated and sometimes worked and catcalled the many gringas who populated that stoop.
Only this time, the gringa didn't fit the mold.
Instead of sneering disapprovingly at the workers' catcalls, this one had her eye on the one with the small waist and the tucked-in t-shirt. When he catcalled her, she simply threw down her smoke, stalked up to him and grabbed the back of his head, planting the biggest kiss on his welcoming lips.
He, being the proud Nicaraguan cat-calling construction worker that he is, wasn't going to be outshone in the romance department by some dishwater blonde -- so he wrapped his arms around her and dipped her low in front of him, further intensifying the kiss.
Meanwhile his fellow workers shouted in approval, and we, the older gringas on our way to a quieter bar, gasped and sputtered and then laughed as we walked away.
Certainly this woman didn't have the guts to let those men continue to catcall her! Certainly she knew that she was only perpetuating the stereotype that foreign women are sluts! And how would she get him to leave her alone now?
As the type of gringa who carefully decides what to conservative-yet-not-warm clothes to wear before leaving the house, so as to minimize the catcalls, those were my first thoughts.
Then again, the kiss was incredibly romantic, spontaneous, and provocative. It was a moment of bliss for the two of them, and if i'm still talking about it now, i'm sure they are too.
So who am i to say she was wrong or she shouldn't have done it?
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