Salsa Dancing! . . . in Ukraine

"We used to play this when I was a kid growing up in El Paso," said Irene as she held up a vintage Sons of The Pioneers' vinyl record.

She gently drops the needle of her 50's era Soviet record player and the sweet southern twang of classic American country music floods the room. A cowboy croons about his lost mexican love as we practice tango, my fifth dance of the night. 

"So he leaves her," said Irene, explaining the lyrics, "after he kills the man she was with, but then realizes he can't live without her and he comes back."

We're sitting on the wood floor of Irene's apartment just north of downtown and right next to the Wysoki Zamok("Vih-sohk-ee Zam-uk") or "High Castle," which is a big hill with a radio tower overlooking the city. We've been salsa dancing for over an hour, and my curiosity led to an explanation of childhood memories of Herb Alpert, why the radio can tune into Rome, Moscow and Athens, and the benefits of vinyl. 

In short order I am merengue-ing to "El Solo Toro" and avoiding the dangerously low chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Salsa is all endurance from what I can tell, practice is the most important thing for me. 

"I only have four records from home that I keep with me," Irene, who's been abroad most of her life, said. "These are the best memories."