
I can’t dance for the life of me. Especially frustrating is the fact that I’m from Puerto Rico and I can’t dance Salsa, or anything else for that matter. I can dance to Smeels Like Teen Spirit though, but that doesn’t really count. You see, there was a pivotal decade where I left Puerto Rico to live in Michigan, and it was during the crucial years of high school and college, where most kids learn to dance. My time in the Midwest was not in vain.  In return I learned to love Bob Dylan, Brooks & Dunn, and Garth Brooks, but I don’t usually admit to it in public.
Having been away for college, I came back to see that all my grade school buddies had turned into America’s Got Talent superstars, so it became increasingly difficult to show my nonexistent moves on the dance floor. Consequently, I’m one of the few people from the Caribbean that, after spending more than a combined 25 years of my life there, can only dance like the typical white man with an overbite.
That’s how I ended up in a Salsa class in Cambodia…
Continue reading Stop whining about the tourists


