ADVENTURES IN SALSALAND

Still, I’m stuck here with no money, no place to stay and I can’t get through to my editor for the necessary cash injection. So, what do I do? Well, they say if you’re in a spot of bother you either need some good legal advice or the help of a well-connected crook. In the absence of the former, I make a call to one Jimmy Finlan – an Irish acquaintance of mine who used to frequent the salsa-scene in Vancouver. By the way, ladies – I’m not sure what tall tale he told you about his reasons for leaving Vancouver but I suspect it had something to do with the money he owes to a Triad gang in Richmond. Not to mention the $800 the rogue owes me!

Anyway, Finlan sorted things out, booking me into a B&B in Galway under his own name. So we arrive at the guest-house (Paddy’s been kicked out by his wife so he tags along “to keep me company”) and the landlady says “Ye’re from Finland, is that right?”. Before I can say anything, Paddy – half-drunk, answers in the affirmative. “And what brings ye to Ireland?”. “We’re musicians”, I stutter – putting on my best generic foreign accent – somewhere between Russian and Spanish. She must have thought we were a couple because she put us in a room together with a solitary double-bed. There was a picture of Jesus on the wall (they’re everywhere in this country!) and, before leaving the room she turned it to face the wall. “Now”, she says with a wink – “ye can get up to whatever ye like, without himself botherin’ ye”.

That night, I met up with Sheila O’Shaughnessy – the rookie cop whom I met in my brief stint behind bars. Turns out, as well as taking a shine to me, she happens to be a keen salsa-dancer. And so, it’s off to a salsa club in downtown Galway (I use the term ‘downtown’ loosely. Galway is really just a cluster of narrow streets masquerading as a city). Apparently there’s such a thing as ‘Galway-style’ salsa and if you think New York style is complex, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet. As far as I could make out, it’s a cross between Cuban-style salsa and Irish-dancing with a little bit of ‘make it up as you go along’ thrown in for good measure. Still, it was good fun and you’ve got to hand it to the Irish – they know how to have a good time. I’d like to say I had a romantic night but unfortunately Paddy came along as well and spent half the night grilling Sheila on the intricacies of Irish law. It seems Paddy has had numerous run-ins with the law and figured a friend in the police force might come in handy. I’ll say one thing for Sheila – she was well able to keep up with Paddy’s drinking but I didn’t fare so well. That Guinness is heavy stuff and by the end of the night I was under the table – literally. It took them half an hour to find me.

Somehow Paddy got me home. With heavy head and a sick stomach I made it down for breakfast the next morning to be greeted by the landlady. As luck would have it, there happened to be a group of real Finnish musicians staying there. “Who would have thought it?”, the landlady laughed. “Two groups of Finnish musicians staying with me on the one night! Here. Why don’t ye sit with them?”. And with that, she seated myself and Paddy at a table with the dour-faced Finns. Well, my Finnish isn’t the best but I managed to get through the conversation by just nodding my head sagely and stuffing myself with food so I wouldn’t have to speak. Afterwards, I ducked out and made a quick call to my editor. More bad news! Apparently, due to some accounting error, they’ve been paying me too much, and that last zero on my cheque shouldn’t actually be there. So now I find myself in the unique position of owing the Latin Connection magazine. It’ll take a years’ worth of articles to clear this debt and to make things worse, my crooked friend Finlan hasn’t settled my guest-house bill as promised.

# posted by Enrique Papadopoulos @ 9:05 AM