My friend J invited me to go to his niece's quinceañera in Parla and I decided to take the plunge, despite assuming that no one else there would speak any English. And that's kind of how it went, but luckily everyone speaks the same language when it comes to dance.
When we climbed up to the fifth floor, I saw a couch had been put out on the landing, the reasons for which we shortly after discovered. The livingroom of the apartment had been turned into a dance floor, and they were playing a ton of songs off of youtube, none of which I recognized, but all of the Latin blend. Everyone seemed to know how to dance the dances, and I was quickly pulled in to twirl with J's mom and her friends. There didn't really seem to be any steps, just rhythm, and I seemed to be doing okay. At least there were a lot of smiles and laughter.
I also sat for part of the time with J's nephew and his girlfriend (who were in their early twenties, don't misunderstand) who spoke a little English. I really enjoyed chatting with them and telling them about California and the UK. And I felt for the first time like my Spanish was flowing and I wasn't totally terrible! That ended after a bit when I started thinking in English again, but at least I know it's possible now.
And much to my sweet tooth's disappointment, I didn't realize that the birthday cake was for pushing the birthday girl's head in rather than eating. But it was pretty funny. Especially when the pusher got some frosting in the face as well. Turn about's fair play!
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