On this lovely sunny morning, I joined Juliet and Lisa for a free aerobics class in the park. While physically this class did not meet my standards, it won for "most entertaining."
In a particular corner of Parque Carolina there is a grass mound topped with a cement platform. The mound is flanked by two enormous speakers from which accelerated versions of Juanes (a sappy, love-struck singer) stream forth. On the platform stand two people: a smiley man with shiny, black spandex bearing his brawny thighs, and his supporter, a smiley young woman in sky blue spandex with a batch of curls protruding from her baseball cap. Actually, they aren´t standing at all, but are marching on and on in one place, shifting their hips to Latin-techno, and beaming their smiles onto the gathered masses. Their arms swing so cheerily it appears they might pop out of their shoulders.
And the crowds love it! People have amassed in all shapes and attire; fit teens in yoga pants, old men with bellies protruding over their sweatpants, jean-clad passersby who are drawn in by the instructor's proactive vibes and dance-meets-exercise -in-the-sun enthusiasm. A middle-aged woman with auburn-died hair is marching vigorously; tush swinging in tow and head tilted back dripping with smiles. Wearing jeans and a sweater in near-90 degree weather seems the least of her concerns (though her children are a bit less keen on this sudden diversion from their day of fun in the park). We all seem to agree: heck, it´s Sunday and we´ll march our little bums off till the sun comes down with these spandex-prancing pixies on stage!
An hour later I go home for lunch. Sometimes, ceviche wins.
