Casa de la Rumba is a doorway.
Cross it, and time loosens its grip. The present dissolves and the year becomes the 1920s. Prohibition whispers through the air. Dice roll. Eyes linger longer than they should. Stories are half‑told and fully lived. This is not a theme layered on top of reality — it is a shared agreement to suspend it.
Casa de la Rumba was born from a longing: the desire to remember how to play.
Not casually. Not ironically. But fully — with presence, risk, and joy. A desire to build a place where adults could forget who they were supposed to be and remember who they once were. Where play is not an escape, but a return.
When you enter Casa de la Rumba, you are not visiting a camp. You are stepping into a world.
Our gift to the playa is not a casino, a drink, a song or a spectacle.
Our gift is experience through interaction.
Casa de la Rumba exists only in the moments created between people. In a glance held a second longer. In a lie told with commitment. In a laugh that surprises even the one who laughs.
Visitors do not consume Casa de la Rumba. They co‑create it.
The 1920s casino is our heart. It is where the illusion lives or dies, sustained entirely by the willingness of those inside to play along.
The Moorish tent is our breath — a liminal space where time bends, rules soften, and new forms of experience can emerge when play demands it.
Both spaces share the same truth: nothing here works without participation.
Not every person is a Rumbero.