Every step we took, the beats grew louder and louder and more people were lingering in the street, drinking out of 1-liter bottles of Quilmes, the preferred beer of Argentines. As we walked up to the entrance of Konex, a cultural center in Buenos Aires, people were handing out flyers that advertised future events and selling pieces of chocolate cake that appeared to be the Argentine version of pot brownies. This was La Bomba de Tiempo, or Time Bomb.

When we walked in, we were greeted by a wave of drumming. Twenty-some people, dressed in varying shades of green, were pounding out rhythms on the large drums strapped to their waists. They slowly marched from the open-air part of the center to the enclosed area, all the while following the commands of their leader. For the next hour, the green army played and the sea of people watching, dancing, and grooving, grew.

As the army marched away, the crowd got ready for the main show, turning toward the stage and filling in every open space with another body. The next group slowly took the stage, one by one, each one adding another drum rhythm to the song. Once they were all together, there was no stopping them. The beat kept going and going, filling every person in the room with the music, the rhythm. I felt like my body was one part of a whole being; the way I moved was not dictated by my mind, but by the feeling of oneness that had taken over. The sounds, the sight of a hundred or so people all on the same wavelength, the feeling of vibrations in the floor and the air from the beating of the drums and the peoples’ feet—all of this created an unwinding, joyful environment. It was more than just a show; it was as if we were celebrating life.