Tango and Buenos Aires= how I wound up in the bosom.

Moaning sounds, groaning, sounds of enjoyment...Where am I? I look around. I´m sitting in the shade at a beachside restaurant in southern Argentina. I´d driven my motorcycle here to have a beer and suddenly I´m disoriented. I am at a restaurant, sitting outside. I look around and see a couple laughing, making noises of enjoyment as they comment on the taste of their seafood. They are happy. As I look there way, the man turns and comments on my motorcycle. He´s interested in my trip and equally interested in letting me know that in his younger day, he too, rode lots of motorcycles competing in races. He opens his shirt showing his hairy chest and points to the surgery scars from broken colarbones, and tibias. Quite a strong introduction.

"Where are you headed," he asks. I tell him though I´m still a week or more away from Buenos Aires that, in fact, I´m headed to Buenos Aires, adding,"I´m going to immerse myself in Tango classes, Milongas, the culture".

He smiles and slowly pulls out his cell phone as if to make a call. Instead, he shows me a video of himself dancing in the Tango World Championships. As he holds the phone up for me to see, I squint in the bright light and see two dancers gliding across the floor with movements and positions that I´ve only seen in other movies. He says, "When you get to Bs. As., give me a call. I teach Tango classes, have an extra bedroom at the studio. You can stay there". Another open opportunity. Where will this lead?

I like this.

 It happens perhaps more on the road when a connection occurs beyond the normal. I have been blessed to have been invited into more homes and impromptu dinners and offers to stay with them than I´ve ever had before. Is it that I represent something "out of their world", different, challenging in the sense that they can´t conceive of traveling alone, at times, for 35,000 kms.(I must admit, I can´t comprehend it either). Perhaps it is a culture more open and inclusive than my culture where formality is more the rule,where peole make more dates to come over for dinner rather than just show up. Here people show up and they become part of whatever is happening. Here people seem to hang out together informally. Parks are loaded with famiies spending hours together just talking, eating,sharing mate.I haven't been with a group of men who gather a couple times a week eating and lightly drinking until 3 Am talking politics and other subjects. This doesn´t happen with my people. Or does it? 

Maybe I´m left out?

Back to the story.

When I finally arrive in Bs.As. I  give Mario a call. He gives me directions and I show up in time for lunch. My motorcycle safe in his garage I survey the environment. Not all that clean, not all that inviting but, we´ll see.

Thus began my introduction into Tango culture. Mario says,"You need some shoes if your´re going to dance the Tango". We hop in his Taxi(many people seem to do multiple jobs in order to get by and do what they want to do in life) and head for a shop that sells Tango shoes. OK, we´ve committed at least my feet. Mario and I return and he gives me a private lesson, one of many over the next 3 weeks. He is big, many would say fat, yet his movements bely his weight. They are light, soft, smooth. Perhaps that is why he dances 5 nights a week until the wee hours of the morning (without alcohol, I´might add, not because he doesn't like it but because it doesn't help in the dance where balance and quick steps and smooth turns are paramount to being desired as a dance partner.)
That night I get my first introduction to Tango and some insights into the culture that supports, surrounds and encourages the continuation of a dance with social roots in the last century. We go about 10pm to a club called Salon Canning. A former club of the British presence in Bs.As. 100 years ago, the hall is large,lightly pianted white with soaring ceilings, filagree architectural detain in the columns and rows of tables two or three deep around the parimeter.There are , I dare say, perhaps 100 places like this providing a range of Tango experiences 6-7 nights a week. That means MANY people are involved. It cost me about $5.00 to enter and that may have included the class I joined (that was way beyond me).
The dance floor was wood, smooth and as the room very slowly begin to gain life after the Tango lesson about 11pm, the lights dimmed and a few couples entered the dance floor. Smooth movements, eligant attire (more so for the women)and many eyes seeing who is coming in. Kisses abound as individuals saw others they know. These people all shared something in common- a love of dance and more specifically, el Tango.
Older couples in their 70,s and 80´s danced with an attitude of having done this as a social event for many years. Young, voluptous women, mostly slender with sensual dresses danced with men in the 70,s and enjoyed the individual nature of a life time of moves that others may or may not do. Three dances with the same partner then you sit down and wait. That is if you are a woman.
It is a man's world.  

If they didn´t come with a partner they oftentimes sit together at the tables for two that form the inter line of tables closest to the dance floor. Many of these men have come to the same clubs for years. They have "their spot or table" the waitress know what to bring them. Water. Perhaps a beer later or a glass of wine or a plate of salami,assorted cheese and olives to munch on. Not much alcohol.  No main course meals. No drunkneness. No boisterous attitudes. This is serious, in a sense, these men are here to dance. And so are the woman.

They choose their partners by either knowing the woman from other dances or quietly observing which woman can follow a man who might have an intricate or unique style. Those woman who show an ability to adapt to various styles will dance all night. Three dances with one man then another, then another. A nod across the room, a visual gesture, not a spoken request is how the invitation to dance is made. If the woman comes with and sits with a man, they are off limits to invitations to dance by other men. Unspoken agreement.
Tango is usually associated with Carlos Gardel.
There are many others in the holy pantheon of notables who left their mark on the cultural heritage of Buenos Aires. Anibal Troilo,Pugliese. This WAS a man's dance, between two men. Woman wern't seen in social circumstances where dances might have occurred back in the last century.    The dockworkers, the itinerent immigrant looking for a new life. The Italians, the Spanish were the predominant immigrant groups from the 1880s´to the 1940´s and to this day their way of speaking and gestures, use of slang and style is emolated by the 2nd and 3rd generation. It is Buenos Aires. Some would disagree but then, this is my story.

I don´t know how they do it. The steps are basic and simple yet people spend their whole lives working to perfect their moves, learning from others so as to participate, for some many nights in the week.

I don´t know how they do it. I mean when you go out dancing with a partner or alone to a club at 10 or 11pm and get home at 3 am and go to work in the morning?? And do this several times a week? Well, I´m retired so I can take a 2- hour naps in the afternoon/evening but these people work. They arn´t "dandies", living off the deliquencies of others, these are bank workers and hair stylists, homemakers and car mechanics. I saw men in casual suits with wire brimmed glasses of a professional level who you would never imagine be dancing all night. They look like bank managers, stiff, unimaginative, dry and yet they have the moves. Who woulda guessed? Not me, and my prejudices.
Women don´t usually show up in jeans or minimally dressed. Take that back. Minimally dressed with elegant attire that shows off what curves they work to maintain. Most of these women, young or older are slender and take care of themselves, enjoying the opportunity to dress up and be feminine.

No smoking and come clean with perhaps a dash of cologne. A mouthdrop would help also. The intimacy of the close embrace puts two people who don't know each other heads touching or cheeks touching and bodies from the chest upward very close while stomach downward is left with distance so the man can lead from his chest and shoulders.

This was a problem for me. Embracing a woman, even in one of my many dance classes was not easy. Embracing and directing the movements I wanted was even harder. I'm not a directive person by nature. I don't have strong opinions about many things. Thus translates one of my great challenges on the dancefloor. If I don't know where I'm going, how would a woman who is following my lead know? They wouldn't. Thus begins the challenge. Be clear. If you make a mistake, make a mistake but be clear about it!
 I'm reminded of a saying I've come across in motorcycle travel literature: "If you don't know where you're going, any road will get you there". The same goes for Tango. More to come. Stay tuned for more pictures of nightly dance activities.

Enrique Mario Peralta getting a trim by another man of many talents-award winning hairstylist, Tango instructor,Taxi Driver, Mattress salesman. Anything to do the Tango.

Lourdes, Tango aficionada, graphic designer, set designer, masseuse, chef. Taxi Dancer. Dances 5 nights a week.

Mario, the man making the moaning and groaning sounds over a lushes' lunch whom I met far south in Argentina. Dance instructor, Mechanic, Taxi Driver.

"Gato(cat)Romero, at 76 he still knows how to dance. One of the many young men of the 50's,60's scene who set a high standard for Tango dancing. Know among 'those who know' as a real dancer.

 Mario loves to laugh. He's just a big kid!

 Mario's house, dance studio. The painting is of Anibal Troilo a great musician among the many who set forth on a remarkable career in the days of Tango's greatness. Now everyone dances to his music.

'Cutting the Rug'. Another guest at this birthday party kept saying, "Do you know where you are? You're in one of the toughest neighborhoods in Buenos Aires. Do you know why nothing will happen to you? It is because of "Gato". Nobody hurts him or his friends.

Mario and Lourdes. Best of friends.

Nice way to spend a lovely March afternoon in Buenos Aires.