Some Old-Fashioned Non-Salsa Karaoke

The other night, Ariel invited me to go salsa dancing with some people from her program at Mestizo: Restaurant Tequila Bar. I haven't worn high-heels since I've been in London, but in the world of Latin dance, you either go big or go home, so I laced up my most menacing-looking heels and wobbled out the door. 
The venue was only about a ten minute walk from my dorm, but those ten minutes felt like an eternity to my feet. I finally understand why they mix salsa dancing with tequila.
We arrived to find a rather empty underground bar scene, so we decided to eat dinner in the restaurant upstairs first. While waiting for our table, we went to the bar for drinks, and you better believe this tequila bar's menu was a force to be reckoned with! I sat next to Kelsey, one of Ariel's roommates. Her and I decided that we weren't even capable of reading the list in its entirety, so she covered up the right side of the menu with her hand and we just read down the left.

The options were still overwhelming and I was too indecisive, so I resorted to ordering the oddest-sounding drink I could find. I don't remember what it was called, or even what was in it -- I suppose that's the sign of a good drink -- but I believe there were some crushed strawberries combined with a mixture of chilies, creating what tasted like a Tabasco Sour Patch Kid. As everyone choked as the drink hit their lips, they asked me if I liked it. The chili infusion burns as it goes down, which makes it too painful to like, too awesome to hate, and too intriguing not to finish.

Once we were seated, we ordered immediately. Everyone seemed to decide on the more basic Mexican dishes found in the appetizer section of the menu, except for Dan, who ordered one of the restaurant's Moles. His dish definitely won for Best Plating. Kelsey ordered the Quesadillas-Empanadas, a dish whose second half we all seemed it ignore until it arrived at the table.

They were indeed empanadas and only empanadas, so I think some menu clarification is in order.
And finally, my dish:

The Mexican Jackson Pollock -- as vibrant with flavor as it was with color. It was basic and delicious and, yes, there were beans. The toppings fully coated the plate, leaving no naked chips -- a nacho epidemic that Mestizo fortunately knows how to ward off.


By the time we finished eating, the salsa bar downstairs was only open for another hour or so. We decided to ditch the dancing and find a place to perform some serious karaoke. Everyone wanted to find a place to regroup and plan out our next destination, so I took them to a bar near my dorm, cleverly titled "The Bar." It was really crowded relative to the two other times I had been there and made up about a third of the population.


There was a lively bar scene,

obviously some great dancing,

and, as fate would have it, karaoke.

This generous stranger asked me to sing "A Whole New World" with him -- an offer I couldn't refuse. Little did I know that this "amateur" singer sounded like he wrote the song himself, but I still stand by the fact that I made him look good.

Italy tomorrow! Arrivederci!