A Red-Faced Moment I won't Forget!

‘Vamos?’ ‘Vamos! y 3, 2, 1’

How did I get here? I gaze into the cluster of unfamiliar faces in the square in front of us, darkened in respect to the glaring red spotlight that is aimed upon the makeshift stage. A young couple nestles together near a stout palm tree; a family of Colombian tourists hold melting cones of vanilla ice cream; a street vendor stops to rest, leaning onto his glass casing of lemonade, now enveloped by beads of condensation.

People gaze toward me, an awkward Canadian girl, white knuckled, clutching an accordion the size of her torso, amongst a slew of bohemian Argentine street performers. The fact that I am traveling through South America with an accordion is interesting enough for them to invite me to take part in their circus and music act on this humid evening.

The sun reaches toward the sea, as a cool evening breeze sweeps through the air and produces a welcome refreshment to the sweltering heat felt throughout the day. I could feel the sets of eyes fixated upon us, watching patiently and attentively.

I anxiously watch the rest of the group as the show begins. Pablo, the clown, enthusiastically whizzes around on his unicycle, shouting for attention and circling the seated young ones with an energy that could easily be brought on by one too many passes of the mate gourd. He bounces up and down on his seat as if he were a toddler himself, while the children look up at him in astonishment; the vertical stripes on his black and white spandex pants causing him to appear even taller than his 6’3’’ stature. The guitarristas furiously begin an adaption of Rodrigo y Gabriela’s ‘Diablo Rojo’ while Cami, the fire dancer, appears like a majestic sorceress; her long dreadlocks piled high onto her head, only to be outshone by piles of glimmering glass beads and macrame jewelry. With one monumental burst, she hurls her body forward, then explodes upright, whipping her poi open toward the crowd, the kevlar newly ignited with fire. Her hypnotic choreography captivates the audience, showcasing her glowing skin against the the newly blackened sky. Andres and Jose, the malabaristas, dramatically begin to launch glowing neon juggling clubs into the air. Faster, faster, faster. My cue! I hurry to the front of the group, put on a smile and 3, 2, 1!...1...1? I blanked. I forgot everything! Met with awkward glances from the audience, and giggles from the band, I realize that I too, have been captivated by the Argentines in this magical moment.