I've always been a self-conscious dancer. Maybe I absorbed those old Baptist prohibitions against it. Somehow, I smiled and faked my way through high school and college (dance-dependent years) and even managed to marry a good dancer.
But this has been a week of dancing...
Thursday Night: Dancing to a flute and guitar band in the hotel in Otavalo. (Wine helps one dance, by the way).
Sunday Morning: Six girls dancing in church, skirts flowing, faces filled with dignity and grace.
Today (Monday): Children at the daycare center in Caluqui, dancing for us a welcome, their traditional folks music playing, weaving in and out of scarves. How old were they, these little dancers -- three, maybe four or five? And how gentle and rhythmic, how enticing.