Tango Diary
Tango Diaries 2010: 1st entry 4/21/10
Well, Las Hermanas de Tango have safely made it to Buenos Aires (BA) with uneventful flights. I guess the Icelandic ash cloud has made the international flight scene rather quiet. Good for those of us traveling N/S, not so good for those on E/W trajectories.
Laura had an interesting experience in the Portland jetport. She saw a beautiful large German shepherd in service dog uniform. Since the owner was in no way handicapped, Laura inquired about the nature of the dog’s service. Turns out he’s a cadaver-sniffing dog logging in training hours in Maine. Apparently there are many cadavers in Maine? He and his owner travel first class and internationally. Laura is now trying to figure out how her cats can join the service and take her first class to Europe.
Once at Ezeiza airpoirt, we were met by Luis (a taxi driver we met last year) and after a brief but victorious fight with a cash machine, we left Ezeiza with luggage and money and a sense of adventure. I, for one, am very thankful for Ambien, which allowed me to get some sleep on the 11 hour flight from Washington. Laura apparently slept like a baby.
We are back at the lovely apartment we stayed at last year in Once/Balvanera. Some get wriggly about Once, but we have never felt threatened there, even when walking back from a milonga at 4 am. My theory is that any shady Porteños take one look at my shoulders and decide not to bother us.
We are sharing space with two local tango teachers Alejandra (who was there last year- quiet and nice and unassuming) and a new one, Viviana. When she left last night to teach her class in badass sparkly black leggings and boots and a leather jacket, I knew we had a character on our hands. I can’t wait to see what she gets up to while we are here. I’ll keep you posted.
We unpacked, did some groceries, and took a 2 hr NAP. That was great! The milonga of the night was El Beso (416 Riobamba) which started at 10:30 pm so we headed off for a walk and empanada before dancing.
****(ooh! Our roommate just showed up with breakfast medialunas (BA sweet croissants)! YUMMY!)*****
Right, back to business…where were we? Oh, El Beso. The classes were just ending so we got to watch two older ladies putting the students through their paces- musicality musicality musicality. This is one of the strengths of BA dancers. They are so IN the music. No volcadas, ganchos, or fancy shmancy stuff on the social dance floor, just a smooth connection and attention to the music (for the most part, there are always exceptions). We ran into a Portland OR dancer who we met last year. He is considering picking up stakes and moving down for the conceivable future. Tango does this to people.
El Beso had the usual panoply of interesting characters. Laura and I did not get onto the dance floor right away. Instead we watched the games of Mirada (watchful gaze of the woman towards those she would like to dance with) and Cabaceo (a gentleman’s wordless invitation to dance, usually an inclination of the head and raised eyebrows, with possibly the mouthed word “bailas?”) begin.
In years past, I have jumped right in dancing with anyone who would ask me. This always lead to valuable learning experiences, although perhaps not the best dance experiences. This year, (my 5th) I watched the floor before accepting my first dance. One must be careful with whom one dances first, as this sets the tone as to who will ask you next. If you have a bad dance and come off looking awkward, the better dancers will not have a good opinion of you and you’re stuck dancing with mediocrity for the rest of the night. Sometimes this is unavoidable. Luckily in BA, the dances run from good to superlative.
Laura spent a lot of the night trying hard to avoid the cabaceo of a rather geriatric man she danced with once and didn’t want to again. Tango may be the only dance I know of where an 82+ year old man can get a dance with a young beautiful woman without having to pay a lot of money.
For the most part, the dancing was fun, and Laura and I both danced about 4 hrs. We closed the place out at 3 am. I had forgotten what 4 hrs on 10 cm stiletto heels felt like (painful) and walked home. This was a trip. Police cars drive around on the streets whirling their lights, and in one case, thumping down the street to deep hard bass beats.
BUT, we do.
Into bed at 3:44 am and fast asleep. There was a brief disturbance at about 8 am by the screams of a very loud child from the kindergarten that has moved in below us (damn- that was NOT there last year). It must have exceeded 40 decibels because his screams penetrated both of our earplugs. Yow. If that happens again I may accidentally pour a lot of water over the balcony.
Today, plans include a bit of shoe shopping (what a surprise) undoubtably more empanadas, and a few errands. We are going to try and contact Caroline Neal (director of the film Si Sos Brujo) and Ignacio Varchauwsky of Tango Via and creator of the tango digital archive, an effort to preserve tango music and tango maestro styles before the old masters die, taking their orchestral secrets and hidden music with them.
http://www.tangovia.org/ingles/archivo_digital.htm
Tango Diary 2010 #2 Thursday 4/22/10, Friday 4/23/10 and Saturday 4/24/10
A few moments in BA- we visited a few shoe stores on Thursday (big huge surprise) and I found a pair I like (bigger huger surprise) at Comme il Faut. Shoes here now run about 400-500+ pesos. The ones I like are $480 (subtract $40 for cash because they prefer effectivo to credit cards then divide by 3.8 = $115. Compare to up to $200 State-side .) NeoTango doesn’t have any styles I like this year (although there was a very sexy strap on an otherwise boring shoe – Gah - frustration!), nor does Tangoleike.
Empanada report: The confiteria “El Esquina de Anibal Troilo” on Parana and Paraguay has a fabulous wallful of pictures of the late Maestro and yummy empanadas. We gave them an 8/10 with a 4/10 for cohesion, as they tended to fall apart. FYI, an Argentine empanada de carne is filled with beef, some chopped egg and usually a green olive. 4 empanadas and 2 café con leches = $36 (pesos) about $US10.
The Cafe de los Angelitos (Corrientes x Junin) we rated as 5/10, since their empanada was filled with chopped meat that was a bit stringy, but 8/10 for ambiance, as halfway through our snack a bandeonista arrived and proceeded to serenade the whole cafe from the balcony.
A word of wisdom from Viviana as she catapulted up and down the stairs a few times: Lo quien no tienen cabeza, tienen piernas. (Those who do not have brains, have legs – meaning those who forget things a lot have to go back and collect them). In our case here, its “tienen gluteales,” since there are 3 flights of stairs to reach our aerie from the street.
We have a new mattress. It was hauled up by rope from the 2nd floor balcony, since the last flight of stairs to get to the 3rd floor is a tiny spiral staircase. No way a mattress would fit. It makes me wonder how many of the furnishings in this upper space arrived that way.
The Ateneo bookstore is just as beautiful live as it is online. Google El Ateneo, Buenos Aires.
Street people and social health here. The Argentinian government gives folks 300 pesos a month per child to those with children, so it is worth it to the homeless to procreate. Theoretically the child should be in a school (public school is free) and have vaccinations (also a part of the social health system), but the verification process is flawed or non-existant. Also it seems that this population shares the children around so one person will use a baby for begging purposes, then pass it along to another homeless person. Sigh. Social programs, are in my opinion, necessary, but it seems like in large systems, they will always be abused due to the inability to efficiently manage them.
Friday nights milongas: Gardel and Gricel, the young and the geriatric. We started at a milonga called Gardel de Medellin, and ran into the problem we have encountered for the past few years - namely that the younger generation of tango dancers in BA (clad in jeans and sneakers and preferring more open and fluid embraces) do not dance easily with foreigners. It seems to be either cliquish, snobbish, or just plain beyond their comfort zone. Gardel is a nice space, reminiscent of North Star Café (Portland) with a bar and tables and a stage. A band was setting up, so I wasn’t quite as peeved of being snubbed, since there was the possibility of live music. We had a couple of catastrophic dances with some older attendees. This taught us that older gentlemen obviously over 60 in a young persons club should NOT be considered as partners. Anyway, the music seemed like it was about to start… and then the lights went out. Total darkness. Cellphones turned on for light and there was some fumbling at the fuse box until it was learned that the whole block was dark. I thought - well, candles, live band, this could be a fabulous acoustic moment, but the band decided not to play as the electric piano wouldn’t function. Boo. We bailed and headed to Gricel.
Gricel is an entirely different environment, with the average age over 60 and everyone dressed to the nines. We definitely stuck out, with a few other youngsters. One of them has been at the same milongas we have the past 3 times. He is definitely American, black, great short dreads that stick right up. I have nicknamed him Teddy in my head, because he reminds me of a teddy bear. He is one the best dancers on all floors and was accompanied tonight by a gorgeous Porteña with whom he danced exclusively. And he definitely has his pick down here. There was one other younger dancer – Ruben, who sat close to us by the wall. He ended up dancing with both of us twice, He preferred a more open Nuevo style, which I found a welcome change after hours of close embrace. I think he did drive the rest of the elderly crowd a little crazy. He was definitely my dancer of the night because at the end, when Laura was changing shoes for boots I pulled out my footsie roller to roll out my feet (one of the essentials of my tango bag). Ruben indicated that he would like to help, so I had up with a lovely footrub at the end of the night. YAY! Definitely a good way to end things.
Saturday: a 3 hr class of tecnica para mujeres y adornos with Graciela Gonzales at El Beso. This was fun- Graciela encouraged us to find our inner “Leonesa” and we spent about 30 minutes just doing front and back ochos. She used lots of fun visualizations for posture and attitude, including certain things to do with Antonio Banderas. Amazing how visualizations will work…
One more snapshot: At Salon Canning last night, the DJ added in a cumbia tanda. Originally, cumbia is from Colombia, but apparently there is an Argentinian Cumbia also called Quarteto, generated in Córdoba. According to Viviana, cumbia used to be considered low-class (described by sniffy locals as “grassa”- greasy) a few years ago but now its the party music of choice. Seems that Argentinians are now considering themselves Latinos, as opposed to European, and now Latin music is more listened to and danced.
Viviana has noticed Latin music infiltrating Argentina only in this past decade. Salsa, merengue and bachata has been making inroads, mostly due to the interaction with the US: business and radio has been instrumental in bringing the general Argentinian mindset toward belonging to the Latin world and less so the European. Lucky them I say, since Latin music is so incredible.
Tango Diary 2010 #3: Thursday 4/29/10 – 5/1.
Well, the past 3 days (Monday - Wednesday) have been uneventful for me, as I have been flat on my back with a vicious headcold. Blargh. I’m feeling much better now and am sitting on the terrasse with a cup of lemon/honey/ginger infusion in addition to my jerba mate.
Which, apparently I have been drinking ALL WRONG. According to the package, in order to enjoy the perfect jerba mate, you have to go through a number of meticulous steps involving inverting the gourd, tapping the jerba to one side, placing the bombilla appropriately, pouring in cold water, then slowly adding 70- 80F warm water to the correct side, and THEN, and only then… you guessed it, chuparle y disfurtarle.
I of course, do the ole’ jerba in gourd, add hot water, go for it.
I’ll try it the OCD way and see if its any better than shotgunning. My guess is, only an Argentine will care, but we’ll see.
Last night we went to see a concert at a place called café Vinilo (like record vinyl). Interesting dinner theater set up, and it has great hummus! Also, huge bottles of a reddish Argentine beer called Otro Mundo. Laura had one and it certainly sent her reeling.
The music was interesting, Porteña singer Alicia did a singer/songwriter sort of thing, and it was apparently her debut. She had a fairly strong voice, and the musicians were talented. The melodies and harmonies reminded me of Spanish music, and it was all fairly plaintive, although I couldn’t understand 99% of the lyrics. There was an accordion, which made us happy. Apparently A is a local voice teacher and had been supporting her husband’s music practice for years and this was her first performance foray on her own. We ended up there because Caroline Neal (Producer of Si Sos Brujo) invited us and was filming the concert. The concert ended with Alicia thanking everyone in the band, everyone on Staff at Café Vinilo including the ticket taker, her sister, her absent brother, her absent husband, her present children and her housekeeper. At the 10 minute point Laura and I felt like we were at the Academy awards without a hook.
Afterwards we went directly to El Beso, and had a lovely night until 2:30am when it cleared out. El Beso seems to be our milonga of choice this year, because it is so consistent with both music and quality of dancers, and only a 15 minute walk from our apartment. However, there are many milongas in BsAs and we have 2 more weeks to explore them. I want to go to a queer milonga and see how the cabaceo works. I can see how it would work for women, because who leads will be determined by what shoes you are wearing. Not sure how that will go for the men.
Thursday 4/29
Finally feeling myself again, I celebrated by walking to Comme il Faut and buying a new pair of shoes. Yay – retail therapy. They are stunning, can’t wait to wear them, but I have to find the right venue. They are sitting happily in their bag until the right time . We had dinner with Juan-Ignacio, a friend you may have encountered in previous tango diaries. He is a travel agent and the son of a friend of my fathers. Juan-Ignacio’s family was very kind to me the first time I arrived in BsAs and I consider them my family away from home. We went by his suggestion to a Parilla called Barbacoa and had a meat event. It was rather silly in terms of proportion. We ordered 2 salads to share, a half bottle of wine, a salchice parillada (I think) which is a tightly coiled grilled sausage (yummy), some fried string potatoes, an order of ojo de bife (came out as two - basically - steaks, but the cuts are different here) and an order of asado (ribs – purportedly serves 2, but the 3 of us couldn’t eat half of them). We stared in joyful dismay at the pile of food getting bigger on our table. We ate and chatted and Laura took some pictures and ate more and then declared carnivorous defeat . We asked for a doggy bag and the Carte de Postres. Two chocolate mousses, an order of panqueques con dulce de leche (crepes in caramel sauce), and 2 coffees later and we rolled out of there 227 pesos plus tip lighter. OK- are you ready? 227/3.8 = approx $USD60 divided by 3 people = $20 each. Plus we have leftovers.
We then headed to Cochebamba 444 and then Niño Bien. This was very interesting as I had one dance at C444. It was the only one I wanted to have. It was with a man who I had danced with 5 years before (my first time in BsAs, 2006) and our dance had been the best in my life so far at that time. I danced with him again and it was like a circuit closed in my head. I recognized him immediately from his dance style. I don’t think he remembered me, but I told him the story and probably made his night. Then I left happily, not needing to dance with anyone else.
Friday 4/30
We started our evening in Palermo at the house of Caroline (US citizen and film producer) and Ignacio Varchauvsky ( musician and director of TangoVia) and their daughter Princesa Celina. Their house was part of an old hotel and absolutely looks the part. A huge wall of glass panels greet you as you walk down the hall opening to an internal patio. Along side are rooms containing Ignacio’s studio, Celina’s room, the master bedroom and a bathroom. Then from the patio (I love having to walk outside to get other parts of your house: unimaginable in Northern Climes) one walks into the living room dominated by a huge wooden couch. Its gorgeous. Laura never stopped taking pictures, so you’ll be able to see it if you look at her album. Empanadas, wine and Jerba Mate ensued along with lively conversation punctuated by Celina in her princess costume pattering on alternately in Spanish and English.
Ignacio is deeply dedicated to the preservation and digitization of tango music in a form called the Tango Digital Archive. According to Igancio and Caroline, the amount of pre-50s tango music heard in the world represents about 20% of what is out there. Apparently, in the 50s, according to music deals made in radio stations, all the old masters (records) for tango music were broken and thrown in the trash by record companies and radio stations. This destruction was due to the influx of rock and roll and ensuing deals made with the companies not to play tango anymore, but may have also been due to a military agenda in the 50s when tango and the collection of people at milongas was viewed as politically dangerous. Destroy the music, and dancers no longer have places to congregate to dance. I guess rock and roll dances were not considered dangerous.
The other 80% of tango music from before the 1950s is hidden, in the minds and collections of scores within the homes of aging and dying composers and musicians, and collectors who view the scores/photos/recordings as valuable objects, not as the national treasures of art and music that ought to be shared. These collections are dispersing as their owners and creators pass on, without being recorded, and so are being lost. Caroline told a few hair raising tales. 1) of visiting a collector after his house caught on fire (he was frying chicken for his mangy old cat) and the conflagration stopped just short of the archive room: A storeroom filled from top to bottom with old tango music scores and photographs from the past century. None of it recorded. Then the cat came and sat on top of the piles of fragile old ash-and-soot-covered sheet music as if to say “you want this?”
The dilemma with collectors is that once a copy is made of an item, the original loses its value as being the only one on the world. But once its gone, its really gone.
Case in point: 2) Apparently a local collector had an old shellac record of a particular tango. He and his friends would meet once a month to listen to it, take it reverently out of its sleeve etc. etc. Well, you guessed it, the record fell and broke into pieces, and now the only recording of that piece of music is gone. I think that’s selfish beyond belief.
3) Styles of tango are particular to various musicians, and the old Maestros are now in their 80s and 90s and dying off, and so there is a feverish rush to not only document their playing styles abut also teach a new generation of musicians how to play in those old styles.
These are a few of the goals of the tango digital archive, so Laura and I and Caroline sat around brainstorming ways to move the project along and raise awareness.
Apparently it takes 6 minutes of work to digitize one minute of music, so there’s time and money involved, and digging and convincing collectors here to let copies be made of the music before items of sold. All very delicate work. If you re interested (which means, if you like tango at all), you can visit
http://www.tangovia.org/ingles/archivo_digital.htm
Its so important that they created a film – (Caroline’s the producer) called Si Sos Brujo, and there will be a screening of it in Portland at One Longfellow Square on Tuesday 6/8/10 at 8 pm. Come one come all, even if you are not a tango dancer, it is a very interesting story, and there will be a skype interview with Ignacio and Caroline following the film.
http://onelongfellowsquare.com/Details.asp?ProdID=868
Phew, OK, enough soapboxing…Then we went to hear Ignacio’s tango band El Arranque (incredible musicians and a singer that just blew the roof off the place) at a venue called No Avestruz (No Ostrich). Great name.
Saturday 5/1 El Dia de el Trabajador – A national, actually, international holiday for the Worker except for somehow, in North America, where workers are not celebrated. Anyway, most everything is closed, so its the perfect day for a walk. I took a walk down to Lavalle to Cordoba. About 30 min out and 30 min back. I certainly do NOT fit in. Everyone else is sort of sauntering about, and Im striding off purposefully with a water bottle. Today also seems to be municipal “wash your engine” day. Folks have their car hoods open and are actually washing the inner workings of their car. Hunh? Doesn’t this make important things rust? Im not a mechanic, but this just seems weird. I don’t even wash the outside of my car – that what rain is for.
Anyway, after nap and yummy leftovers, (we’re still eating from the remains of the meat-fest from Thursday night at Barbacoa) we headed to Maipu 444. NEW FAVORITE MILONGA for me. Very high quality of dancers, less tourists. We had a great time. Laura headed off to La Viruta with a dancer called Daniel and another dancer, Ruben, kindly dropped me off on his way home at 4 am. Im still taking it easy.Tango diary 2010 # 4: 5/2-5/8
Walking along the streets of BsAs is always interesting. If one is not jumping over the alarming piles of trash, or avoiding the various blanket-ridden bumps of sleeping homeless people, the faces and fashion of Porteños and distinctions of different barrios are fascinating. Facial piercing seems to be the mode among the jovenes this year. Last year we saw horrendous purple hair dye jobs. Drop-crotch and ankle-collared pants were visible on the streets and in milongas last April and unfortunately have not fallen out of fashion. Yuk.
We have been observing the prevalence of fake “lolas” at milongas and in various trendier barrios, like Recoleta. Too many women here have fallen prey to the requirement of “hacer las lolas (boob jobs). They (the fake lolas) are always immediately apparent as they don’t move the way normal lolas do. Our friend Shaun describes dancing with a woman who has fake lolas to be like dancing with two basketballs between them. bleah. IMHO, there’s only one reason to hacer las lolas and that’s reconstruction after surgery. Otherwise, yikes.
Speaking about tango interactions, it can be a whole different experience between leaders and followers on the dance floor. Many followers close their eyes, fall into their leaders arms and trustingly dance. For leaders, it’s a whole different ball game, and in some milongas, it can be an all-out war. I have heard tell of Milongueros throwing elbows into the back of other leaders if they are doing something considered inappropriate. There seems to be trash talking and vicious looks and eye rolling, not to mention floor traffic negotiation, and follower comfort and safety. Oh yeah, and dancing to the music and having a nice interaction with their partner.
I don’t envy the guys sometimes.
Most of the time followers remain oblivious to all this drama and danger, but sometimes one wakes up to a bit of a “bumper car” experience in a densely packed milonga.
At El Beso the other night I was dancing with a partner named Hugo. Before we even started the dance there seemed to be posturing and face making between Hugo and the man in front of us. When we started to dance, my heel came down on the foot of my partners antagonist. I certainly avoided putting all my weight on the stiletto heel, but when I turned around to apologize, he was doing his best soccer-pro-injured-diva-hopping-up-and-down-on-one-foot dance complete with eyes shooting hatred my way. I apologized profusely, but it seemed to no avail. Over all this frenzied illustration of pain, I heard the bored voice of Hugo: “Never mind, He ees my friend.”
Another recent event that I heard about was that a woman stepped on a seated milonguero’s foot (remember, we women are all dancing backwards with our eyes closed mostly, and its really the partner who aims our foot). The Milonguero got up, pushed the woman and punched her in the nose. Apparently a scuffle that needed to be broken up ensued. I hope she got a few good shots in before the fracas died down. In my opinion, this was her partner’s fault for bad driving. I hope he received what-for as well.
Another thing I am learning, is that when I have my best dance of the night, and I always know when it happens, I’m now fine with taking off my shoes and just letting that be the high note on which to end the night. Usually one only dances one tanda with each partner. If it was really special, he might invite you one more time. Dancing more than 2 tandas at a traditional milonga with someone usually means you are going home with them, or at least they’re going to try hard. As Vivi said after Laura described dancing 3 dreamy tandas in a row with one of her favorite partners here, “that means sex with protection”. But this possibility seems to be less observed in the younger tango crowd where the older codes are bent and broken, along with traditional embraces and music choices.
Here’s an example of how a tango tanda usually goes at a milonga – well, at least for dancing with us gringas:
1) Mirada-Cabaceo wordless invitation to dance
2) Guy walks over: “Hola, que tal?” (Hi, hows it going?)
3) Dance first song. Songs ends, Porteño says “Muy Bien!”
4) Stand facing each other while waiting for a few bars of the 2nd song to pass. Porteño: “De donde vos?” (where are you from?) me: de Canada. Porteño: aaaaah! Frio!!!!! (no joke, this happens EVERY time.)
5) Dance second song. Song ends, Porteño says something complimentary about how I dance. I say gracias, while getting the feeling he says that to all the girls after the second song.
6) Stand facing each other while waiting for few bars of next song to pass. Porteño: que haces en Canada? (and what do you do in Canada?) me: (difficult explanation of how I now live in the US and am a massage therapist while Porteño’s brow furrows in concentration trying to understand my broken Castellano – which is getting better, by the way) Porteño: “ooooooh, masaje!” indicates shoulders hopefully. Me: “en vacation”
7) Dance third song, etc etc.
8 ) Stand facing each other etc. etc. Porteño: “como se llama?” (not: how is your llama? but what are you called/what is your name?” me: “ Emma, y vos? Porteño: Ruben (More often than not. We have danced with about 7 Rubens so far and have had to come up with a Ruben classification system. Foot-rub Ruben, Little Ruben, Friend-of-Daniel Ruben,…)
9) Dance fourth song, end, kiss on cheek, mutual “muchas gracias”, escort back to table.
This is usually how it goes with a few variations. The dancing in between the strange little conversations is where its really at.
Tango diary # 5 5/9 – 5/13/10
Well, Im writing this in Ezeiza airport having gotten here 4 hours early. Dang. Big kafuffle about picketers and protesters on the Avenida de Mayo burning tires and causing chaos… but there was NOTHING. So I’m here early with 4 hours to kill. It will take about 24 hours to get home, so I have to resign my self to a lot of sitting and waiting. Something I’m really bad at. So I’ll write.
A few more snapshots of observing Bs As life. There seem to be titanic opposing forces of cleanliness occurring in the city. The huge mountains of trash bags in the streets are torn apart nightly by low income and homeless “cartoñeros” looking for cardboard, paper plastic and metal leaving huge messes in their wake. Following them are city workers rapidly sweeping up and annoyed merchants doing the same to clear the sidewalks for pedestrians and customers.
The city has finally organized the nocturnal cartoñeros, providing reflective safety gear and big rolling bins. The collections in the bins are then taken to trucks in local parks where the recyclables are delivered to handling facilities. It works in a strange loosely organized but complicated way, though it seems like the whole situation could be made much easier by providing recycling bins for city dwellers to use. This way the garbage bags wouldn’t be ripped apart every night creating such a mess that then has to cleaned up.
On one of my walks, I found a street called Reconquista. It seems to be the Argentine version of Wall st. It is pedestrian, and filled with slick-haired suited bankers with briefcases, Banks, Kevlar-suited police officers and armored vehicles, 5 pm seems to be put-the-money-in-the-armored-car time.
Argentinian national colors are blue and white, and its also World Cup soccer year. All the little stores are filled with blue and white clothes: joker hats with bells on, soccer shirts and T-shirts, baseball caps, and every form of apparel you could think of. All in blue and white. I even saw lingerie. Go team!
Argentinian pedestrians have a charming habit of walking arm in arm. Especially tottery little old ladies. This coupled with numerous sidewalk vendors… well, YOU imagine the sidewalk mayhem on the busy streets. ARG! Another habit (among the jovenes only) is PDAs. I’m not talking palm pilots here, I’m talking full-on, entire-face-involved, limb-entwining snogging. Yow! get a room! And there are such things. Hotels dedicated to rentals by the hour, since young (and not so young) folks here live with their parents until they are married. The prospect of bringing a lover home when your folks are watching TV in the next room is a little unsatisfactory. Hence the need for such hotels. They definitely serve a respected purpose in BsAs social scene.
Empanada report: We have found our favorite empanada joint. Its a little pizzeria 1 block up from our apartment on Saavedra and Alsina. Delicious empanadas “al horno” (oven) baked right in the pizza oven that dominates the room. The place is painted blue with an emapanada “footprint” directory on the wall. Depending on the filling, each empanada is folded differently, so one can identify what’s in it. We also had a version called a “fatay” which is an Arabic recipe: beef marinated in lemon juice and red pepper overnight, then folded in a triangular fashion in pizza dough and baked. The filling is not pre-cooked unlike the other empanadas. The marination over night in the acid takes the place of the cooking process. It was delicious in a different tangy way, and you have to get around the fact of raw meat in this delicacy, but its like ceviche. Plus we both seem to be fine gastro-intestinally and had no negative effects. When in Rome…
A few moments in the dance scene:
Well, I had my brush with celebrity a few nights ago. While I was sick, I watched a lot of Argentinian TV, especially a channel called “Encuentras”. It is fabulous. Very informative shows; some dubbed BBC programs, and others about health, the natural world etc. Anyway, I was lying on the couch and Vivi and I were watching a program about food and exercise and one of the little skits was shot in a gym. The narrator of the show was interviewing an actor portraying someone working out. Vivi indicated him and said- Oh, I know that actor, That’s Marcelo - he’s a good tango dancer! Well, you guessed it, a few days later, after I had recovered and was back on the dance scene, I recognized him sitting quietly in the back at a milonga (Maipu 444). He invited me to dance about halfway through, and it was a great tanda! We both left the floor with big smiles, and he was at another milonga the next day. The organizer of the first milonga was very proud to have Marcelo present and outed him at the demo/announcement part of the milonga. Marcelo dutifully stood up and smiled and waved, but I could tell he would have preferred to be stealth. We both found each other very entertaining and had great dances both times. I think because I have no idea who he is as a celebrity, nor do I care, and treat him with the same candor and friendliness as everyone else, he was able to relax and just be a tango dancer, instead of a celebrity actor everyone was fawning over.
In another story, Vivi and I were watching a dubbed version of the Razors Edge and she said that while she lived in NYC, Bill Murray was her student (apparently so was Richard Gere). Bill Murray was drunk, but generous and gave her $100 under her protest. She didn’t want to charge him anything because she had been pressed into service by her partner and she was sweaty and grimy from running in central park. Great story: She dropped by the café where her partner was teaching after a run in central park. No one had showed up for the lesson, so her partner was depressed. Then Bill walked in and said “Is this the tango lesson?!” Vivis partner said Yes Señor, right here!. Bill looked at him and said, “do you have anything curvier?” Vivi’s partner said, absolutely! and shoved Vivi forward in sweats and runners. She was horrified, and said, I can’t! Im all sweaty! Bill said “its ok, I’m drunk, so we’re even”. Apparently she gave him the lesson in the middle of the NYC café between the tables, with patrons looking on in amusement. According to Vivi, Richard Gere was a better dancer.
Back In BA, La Viruta is the milonga where everyone goes after the other milongas have closed down. Imagine a disco hall in the basement of a cultural center complete with bar and disco ball. Then replace the throbbing bass beats with tango music. Quite surreal. Even more so, when one sees a family dancing by. The 5 year old brother leading his 11 year old sister, and Dad teaching his 7 year old daughter how to dance. Start ‘em early, I guess, but –wow?! 3:30 am? Put these kids to bed!!
Anyway, this milonga is where I had my final dance before leaving the next day. My last night started at El Beso. I had some great dances, especially with a tango singer called Gabriel who plans to do a North American tour this year – I hope he comes to Boston -and Sebastian who has a very smooth lovely style. And others!! I didnt sit down for more than 3 minutes for and entire 3 hours. Then, a Scottish woman, Iona (who now lives in BA), Diego (a local), and I headed over to La Viruta to finish the night. I was tired, but not going to admit defeat so early- it was only 2:30am! I did a little bit of leading – Iona volunteered to follow, so that was great to dance a little more on the other side of the partnership. I had not lead in about 4 weeks. In the middle of our dance a man stuck his head into our partnership and yelled “Falta un hombre!” (you need a man!). Well, not you, dude. Obviously. Then, after observing that I lead, Diego suggested an exercise that Elmira Cancelada and I do a lot – smoothly changing leads within a dance. For an example, click here. It’s a great sensitivity exercise. You have to feel when the other person want to take over, switch embrace and directions all within the dance itself. The switch becomes part of the dance. Its very cool. Diego suggested an added twist where the embrace does not change, just the lead, so suddenly, one is leading from the follower position and embrace. Then its just a matter of energy- who is receiving and who is directing, and the fact that it can switch at anytime, as can the embrace is really interesting. I had never done that before. It was 3 am, my legs were starting to give out, and Diego is a big guy, and I am short and wearing flats at that point, so it was quite challenging. But I held my own, and I’d like to try it again at a practica. I had my last brush of sleaze when I danced with little guy I had danced with at another milonga. He wanted me to put my high heels back on because it makes one’s legs look nicer. At that point I was in my dance sneakers and there was no way in hell I was getting back onto 4 inches of pain. I told him I would dance with him, but he had to deal with my sneakers. So he said “dale” (dah-lay) which means OK. After 2 dances he started to paw, so I said “uno mas?” Which is the nice way of saying: I’ll only dance one more with you, creep. He started to repeat “toda la noche, toda la noche” (all night long), so I said “bueno” threw my hands up, and walked away. I was way past tolerating stupidity like that by that point. It was pretty funny though and I laughed to myself all the way back to my chair. I didn’t want that to be my last dance, so I found Alejandro, a big Parisian dancer and he basically carried me blissfully around the floor for the last tanda. I was done. I can say with certainty that I couldn’t have danced another step on my last night. I took a taxi home, and fell into bed. Thank goodness I packed earlier in the day.
I’m in one way sad to go, but in another way excited to go home and see my friends. Besos and Abrazos to you all for coming along on the journey with me!!
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I am writing this last excerpt at the Houston George Bush International airport. There is a big metal statue of George Bush, briefcase in hand, tie flying in the breeze. Where is there a felt marker when you need one? I found it very ironic: I flew from the George Bush airport to the Ronald Reagan airport. Sheesh. Get me back to neutrality!
Portland HERE I COME!
(On Friday, 5/21, Laura and I will be playing tango music and talking about our adventures in Buenos Aires. You can stream us live at http://wmpg.org, or tune in locally at 90.9/104.1FM from 10:30 am – noon. )
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2009
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1st Entry: Sunday 4-19-09 Traveling to Buenos Aires
Apart from a rather strange altercation in the Atlanta airport, travel to Buenos Aires went very smoothly. As I was walking along concourse C in Atlanta, I came across a loud interaction between an airport Policeman and a youngish black guy. The cop had the black guy by the shirt and was brandishing a baton. Conversation as follows: cop: ‘Get on the floor!’ black guy: ‘Sir, what did I do?’ cop: ‘get on the floor! I dont want to hit you!’ black guy: Sir,what did I do? cop: Get on the floor (whack with baton) black guy: Sir what did I do? cop: Sir what did I do? cop: Get on the floor! (whack) This went on for about 3 minutes until another cop, this one black, rushed in and got the guy to the floor, handcuffed him and the two cops dragged him off. Quite unusual for me to witness this type of thing, and I was a bit discomfited. Anyway, the rest of MY trip went well…
I arrived without incident in BsAs - all flights on time and luggage included. Amazing! The English and Spanish translations of public address on the plane was amusing. Ladies and Gentlemen…. Spanish: Damas y Cavalleros… Cavallo is horse, Cavallero is horseman, so currently, all men in Argentina seemed to be called cowboys…
My seatmates on both flights were amusing. Portland to Atlanta, I was seated next to a young philosophy student from Bates heading back to New Mexico for the vacation week.We had a great time Bush-bashing and hoping for the best with the next administration. From Atlanto to BsAs, I was seated next to a young middle-school teacher from Boston who was going to Argentina to get married (again). He and his wife had already done the city hall thing so she could be with him with a fiancee visa, but they were going to do it again in S. America so her family could celebrate. The only thing odd about this whole thing for me was that they had been physically together for a total of 8 days before deciding to get married. One day - when they met - about a year of email correspondence, then a week together to decide if they really wanted to be together - which obviously went well - and now they have been married a year and will be celebrating a second time. My seat mate told me that it really took all the worry out of the relationship… should we move in together…. yada yada… and they just did it. Carpe Diem, I guess. Yow.
Alberto (a good friend of my father) picked me up from the airport and by 9 am Saunday I was at their lovely home in Recoleta. Their son Juan-Ignacio spent the day with me and we took a bus and a train to the river and then a ferry and went for a walk on one of the islands. The bus (colectivo) is what transports the majority of the public around. The train seems to be a wilder card. The train we took is the only one J-I trusts and runs on time. The other lines apparently are in grave disrepair and unfortunately seem to be a large source of suicides (people throwing themselves under the wheels) in response to the terrible ecomony (much worse than in US). Needless to say, this puts a dent in the train schedules, so folks dont use them as much. Also, J-I has seen a huge decrease in tourism and traffic (the traffic part I was not so unhappy about, because it is usally LOCO to try and cross the road here) all of which has created a big decrease in the overall well-being of the average Porteño. J-I is also of the opinion that is due to the Peronist-style government (very Communist-based) which provides low incentives for people to actually work. A lack of interest in work decreases any sense of civid pride or the ability to get anything official done. 20 governmental employees are hired to do the job of 2, its very hard for employers to fire anyone (massive documentation required) so its hard to hold folks to standards, and its very easy to get unemployment $ from the goverment, so folks are not that interested in finding work. (opines J-I). There seems to be a second layer where things actually get done which excludes the official (and very bogged down) channels. J-I and I went to his bank (Banco Nacional de Argentina) for him to cash a check, but for some reason they couldn´t change my $US. Then we went to the office of his friend Stanislau (Ti-ti for short)- 2 young guys in nice suits and ties in a 4th floor cramped office (financial consultants J-I told me ) and changed my $ there. No fuss no muss, and I didnt have to walk around with my passport (a big relief). Thats the way BsAs is.
That being said, Porteños are very happy to tell you exactly what to do and where to go and how to do things even though they really haven`t the foggiest notion. After 2 wild goose chases this morning, I gave up asking and just muddled along with my map, remembering how turned around I get in this city. A very helpful cavallero named Boris tried to help me find his apartment, but gave up when he realized I preferred to be alone. No es borrido? (isnt that boring?) Not if you’re me, I replied, and walked purposefully off in entirely the wrong direction.
Anyway, I`m going dancing now at Confiteria Ideal. Look for more noticias soon!
Besos y Abrazos
Emma /DJ Adira
2nd entry: Tango Diary Monday/Tuesday/Wednesday 4/20 - 22/09
I am sitting on the terrace with my jerba mate in the sun. Utter contentment. I’m glad folks are reading the tango diaries. My Spanish teacher has weighed in on the erroneous spelling of the word caballo (con b largo) not cavallo (con v corto). Say the two words out loud: like this: ca-vi-yo… ca—bi-yo. The small difference between the pronunciation of the v and the b messes me up greatly when writing Spanish. Latinos (depending on where they are from) pronounce that sound closer to a b or closer to a v and its very hard for northerners to distinguish.. well, me anyway, so apologies to Gustavo if I goof on spelling things, as right now with minimal Spanish classes, I spell things phonetically,..
Last year, Laura and I discovered the national shortage of change/coins – moneras. I asked a taxi driver why when I couldn’t give him coins and he couldn’t make change back, so he lost out in the exchange. He told me that metal is very valuable and coins are actually removed from circulation, melted down and used to make other things. The government does not replace the coins (at least not in J-I’s memory and he is now 27), so there is a national shortage. This might explain the nightly garbage rendering activities experienced throughout the city when the sun goes down. Garbage bags appear on the sidewalks and a whole sub-culture of people (mostly indigenous) appear and pull the garbage bags apart. They are searching for something, but I don’t know what. Metal to sell for recycling perhaps? Anyway, it makes a huge mess all over the sidewalk and walking around is hairy until later at night the clean up crews show up and sweep it all away. Crazy, but it’s a haphazard system that has arisen to provide resources for these no-income folks, and work for the clean up crews. Instead of fixing the problem, (addressing this under-culture of jobless indigenous people) a bandaid is applied (ignoring them by sweeping it away. I wonder if anyone can identify the original wound, or if it so engrained in the cultural fabric of Argentina that they don’t see a problem with it.
I went out for a “drink” Monday night with J-I and two of his buddies: Federico and “Nacho”, who I met last year). Monday night and most everything was dark. After trying 5 bar locations unsuccessfully, we ended up at a Confiteria (ubiquitous and always open til the wee hours). Nothing on the menu tempted me and I complained about not being able to find good dark chocolate in BsAs. (FYI: I like 85%) Nacho threw on his jacket and told me to follow him (jacket shmacket, it is NOT cold here…) and we ended up a few store fronts down at a Volta. If you have read any of the tango diaries before, then you know about the national Argentine preoccupation with artisanal ice cream (helado). It is serious. They make Serious helado here. Buono como orgasmo dice Juan-Ignacio). I’m not sure what kind of relationships he is having, but I agree with him that its definitely up there in the realm of excellent physical pleasures.
So I got my dark chocolate fix (along with some dulce de leche) and my low-dairy consumption resolution during my trip went out the window. I bade it farewell quite happily behind my copa de helado.
(a little later…) Yay, Laura is here, and we are ensconced in our new apartment. We are sharing a gorgeous and homey top floor with another tanguera from England (haven’t met her quite yet) we are going out to explore the barrio “Once” to the great dismay of my Porteño family. Apparently Once is not the nicest of barrios, but it seems tranquil and close to the Subte line A (with the beautiful wooden interiors). Plus we need to do some food shopping. Pictures to follow, as Laura has brought the camera cable for uploads.
3rd entry Tango Diary Thursday 4/23/09 Wednesday night and Thursday
We woke up at 8:30 this morning disappointed we were not able to sleep until our usual waking time of noon. Remedy: stay out later, coming home at 2:45am is too early! Especially after consuming empanadas and café con leche at midnight. oops. Buzz buzz buzz, although considering it was Laura’s first night on the town, we actually did rather well.
The night before started with a plan to go to a practica, followed by a gay milonga, followed by el Beso. but as usual, a few curve balls were thrown our way. Guided by the “milongas buenos aires” internet site, we set out valiantly on foot towards our destination. However, 30 minutes later we arrived at a rather posh milonga at Niño Bien (where we both had been last year on opening night). Luckily we had packed both casual and dressy clothes. A brief transformation later, we were ready to hit the piste de baile in style. Last year, Niño Bien was so packed that one could barely move 5 feet on the dance floor in one dance. This night the milonga was more sparsely attended, with an older crowd (more on this in a sec). We were seated close to the front, but on a corner, and not in direct line of site of the milongueros. Even so, this did not too adversely affect our invitations, although Laura had to get her Mirada/Cabaceco back on. Took her all of 3 minutes. Neither of us sat down for more than 5 minutes all night.
Interestingly, the average age of the Porteño Milonguero is about 70, and they all dance wonderfully. One gets a range of good, great and superlative dances here. No bad ones, as older Porteño milongueros are musically driven and not given to fancy shmancy stuff, although they do leave plenty of room for adornment on the followers part. Laura and I decided that they all kind of look the same. Grey/whitish hair, ample pot belly, Dark pants and button down collar short (short or long sleeved), or in a suit, same hair do. Good sense of humor. First question is always “de donde ’sos?) Where are you from. I am getting this less, either because I am starting to dance more like a Porteña, or my Spanish is getting better.
Afterwards we went to El Beso and finished the night there. The room was jam packed and very international. We danced with Italians, Polish and Australian dancers as well as Porteños. I had a fabulous dance (Bueno como orgasmo) close to the end with Scott (an Australian) and then was quite happy to sit and watch. My feet were done at that point anyway after 3 hours in 4 inchers and 1.5 hours in 3 inchers. Tevas felt really good after that. Once you’ve had the best dance of the night, one may as well go home. (I like to end on a high note).
Thursday daytime….
After breakfast, Went to GretaTango for shoe research, but found them closed. Even after waiting around for 45 minutes at a confiteria (and talking about Proust – felt very intellectual) there was still no answer at the GretaTango buzzer. To assuage our disappointment, we went to NeoTango and had good luck there with shoes. One pair down, how many to go? On our way back we became aware of loud banging noises and chanting. We had come across a protest of the Panadera’s (Bakers) blocking one of the major roads and causing a lot of ruckus. A Porteño came towards us shaking his head indicating that it was too loud. We asked him what was going on pointing to a pamphlet I had picked up off the ground..” Sergio” as he introduced himself, grabbed me by the hand and we plunged into the drumming chanting fray, Laura followed close behind with her camera, although he indicated that she might not want to take pictures. (She has been a shutter bug all day, so we’ll upload some pictures on facebook soon!) Sergio asked a drummer what exactly what was going on and what the 7 letter acronym at the bottom of the pamphlet was. Some sort of United and Quite Pissed Off Bakery Workers of Argentina type of thing – I didn’t get all of it. “No to rich owners and Yes to the workers revolutionspeak. He grabbed my by the hand again and we fought our way out of the fray. At this point it was becoming apparent that holding my hand was more for his benefit than mine, and so I extricated myself and thanked him for his help. The demonstration was being held in front of the National Syndicate Building, and was causing serious traffic snarls, massive honking and all around Latino Americano angst. Big surprise.
Speaking of Latino Anerican angst we became aware recently of the unfortunate death of all 21Venezualan polo team horses in Miami. Apparently there is no ban on doping or administrating hormones or supplements to the horses of any kind in this industry. At $100000 per horse, this must represent a massive loss both financially and emotionally to the Venezuelan owner, team and country. Not to mention just a very sad thing all round.
Later on, after some food and a power nap we started the evening of dance at El Arranque, albeit a bit late. A good warm up though, amusingly ended at about 10 pm with a group of Italians with 2 days of lessons in them (except the one who danced with Laura). Beware of well-lubricated Italians who think they can dance tango and believe that it involves lots of long holds and squeezes and thrusting their thigh between the followers legs. I almost ruptured something trying to hold my laughter in for the tanda. Then to El Beso for another fairly international night. There is always a tando of west coast swing – Argentinos love to dance this form - as well plus a Chacarera (a beautiful swooping folkloric dance). We ran into Ofer – a tanguero from NYC who owns a wine business and I had met him previously at Tango de los Muertos. He is taking a work sabbatical and is spending time (2 months now) down here. Sounds good to me. He is pretty linked in, so we are joining him tonight at a celebration at Confiteria Ideal and then a private opening party/milonga on the 21st floor of a building on Corrientes. Yeehah. Will report later.
After El Beso, we ended up at Niño Bien again, but on the way in the taxi on calle San Jose we drove past the most spectacular prostitute I have ever seen (well, I haven’t seen many, but woah.) Anyway she was wearing bright red boy shorts and NOTHING else. Definitely surgically improved breasts, and fantastic legs (could have been a transsexual, but did not note package) The taxi slowed down as we approached and we all took an astounded appreciative look. The taxi driver whistled and we continued on our way to El Beso. We had another interesting night at El Beso, where the dancing was good, but there was a predator on the floor. A man in white pants and a maroon shirt was inviting women to dance and then making them very uncomfortable. Most women were leaving either at the end of one song, or in the middle of the first song. He would then invite another to dance. Many women compolained to the management, but they couldn’t quite catch him in the act of abusing someone. One American lady there said he actually bit her neck and then put his hands on her rear and and tried to put her hand on his genitals. Laura left him after one dance and then warned me about him. He did try to invite me, but I avoided his eye. I think I probably would have kneed him in the balls if had tried anything with me (at least I hope I would have, I might have been too shocked). It saddens me that no one did anything directly about this person, and that the word of 5-6 women at the milonga was not enough to have him expelled from the venue. On this strange note, we left the milonga and headed home. In bed by 3 am.
4th entry: Tango Diary Friday/Saturday 4/25,26
Hey folks, two glorious dancing days later, and the tango adventure continues. We are finally on BsAs Tango Time, as the nights are extending into the hours of 5 and 6 am. Our feet seem to have acclimatized to 5-6 hours of dance in 3-4 inch heels every day. I’m so glad I brought my tennis balls and foot roller!
So on Friday we walked down Rivadavia searching for a hair place so Laura could get her bangs fixed. This required a lot of information. Firstly, the Spanish word for bangs (flequillas). Also what is the right amount to tip a hairdresser in BsAS? Laura asked this question of our hostess Magdalena, or at least tried. What came out was an amusing Spanish version that sounded like: “If I go to a cinema to get my bangs cut, how much should I tip?” After watching Magdalena’s perplexed reaction we discovered the difference between the words pelicula (film) and peluqueria (hair salon). We have had some very amusing moments with language. Anyway, we did drop in to a little hole-in-the-wall peluqueria on the way downtown (Laura is very courageous, I must say) and had her bangs done to her satisfaction. Downtown we visited 2 shoe shops, and Laura bought the Mod-est pair of shoes ever (wait ‘til you see!). The other store had the foot-fetish salesman from last year, and I have a picture to upload of him almost licking her leg. He probably sells a lot of shoes this way.
The next tango destination was an afternoon milonga (got there about 4:30 after an empnada break) at Confiteria Ideal. Mucha gente! It was an homage to Orchesta Tanturi and in the middle of the dancing some sort of presentation was made to a group of people. We all just wanted to get back on the dance floor. But it dragged on a bit. Pomp and ceremony and such. At CI, Laura and I developed the tango-cock-block to avoid being asked to dance by sleazy men. It involved yelping the code word “taxi!” and then feigning some sort of shoe emergency that requires both of our undivided attention until sleazy guy moves on. Works really well, although we are both suppressing so much laughter that it hurts. We left CI at 730 ish and went home to take a power nap, then went back downtown to a new milonga at 327 Corrientes on the 21st floor of a very high building. The view of the city was spectacular even if the live music was not, and we met Leo( very interested in Laura, and probably wishes I would go away). Leo has a Camioneta (van that seats about 10) with 3 levels of security. Apparently car theft is a huge problem in BSAs, so the only way to avoid it is to make your car more awkward than the next to steal. Leo achieves this with 1) a steering wheel lock, 2) a foot pedal lock which holds the emergency brake down, as well as the door locks – and vast numbers of keys. It takes about 5 minutes for him to enter and exit his vehicle, even more so while we our laughing our heads off while he is going through his machinations. Anyway, we all headed out of to Salon Canning and walked in right at their half-time show (2:30 am) of a belly dance performance! 2 excellent dancers, one male and one female were performing in the middle of the Canning dance floor. I was more impressed with the male bellydancer than the female on. His movements were much more interesting and isolations crisp and perfect. She was a Barbie doll with obviously fake breasts (no one that tiny has boobage that big, I’m sorry) but a great show by both. Later as they left, I thanked them for the show and told them how wonderful they were. I couldn’t quite get out that I also dance, they looked a little confused, but my appreciation was not lost on them.
Canning has not repaired their floor – it is still as rutted and picked as last last year. This does ot bother the leaders with flat heels, but its really annoying with stilettos, (the shoes) as they seem to find every crack and crevice in the floor. Once one’s heel catches, its an effort not to stumble, and puts me off my flow. Arg. Some nice dances, although I had an annoying experience with a dancer who I had danced with at least 3 times this vacation. For some reason he thought it was ok to mention that my dance was “linda’ but that I needed to lift up in my torso more. This really bothered me. It’s a milonga. One should NEVER teach at a milonga. 1) I didnt ask for his opinion 2) It stops the flow of the dance. 3) Is unsolicited criticism ever a good idea? Anyway, I mentioned this later to one of our roommates later who is a tango teacher and told her how I felt, and she said next time: tell him exactly that. Men (and this happens in N America too) who offer instruction or advice during a milonga need to be informed that this is a social dance, not a lesson. If I want lessons, I’ll take them, and if he doesn’t like my dance style, then dont invite me. Woe betide the next guy who tries this. I have the Spanish phrasing memorized, and feel totally empowered to leaving him gawking and embarrassed on the dance floor. If women would stand up to critical partners perhaps the men would feel too embarrassed to do it again. That being said, I will work on being more lifted in my torso, but I’ll never dance with that guy again. Men, take note. If you offer feedback to a partner during a milonga, you risk offense, even if you mean it in the best possible way. DON’T DO IT. Make your partner feel as if she is the most amazing partner in the world. Bring your lead to your partners level so she is comfortable. Her dance development is her business not yours. Then if it was really bad for you, at least you were kind, and you don’t have to invite her again. Soap box over.
Anyway, total tango hours (TH) logged Friday night: 7.
On Saturday, we woke at 1:30 pm (oh bliss) and walked around the Once district doing some chores. Another power nap and off to the races again at 11:00 pm. This time Maipu 444 at the suggestion of Scott a while ago. This is a very traditional milonga controlled by a stern man who posts rules (no Nuevo, keep heels down Etc etc.). The seating was very segregated with the women on one side, single men along a wall, and couples in another area. Unlucky younger single men were seated behind the women, so it made it hard for them to make eye contact. There were many good local dancers, but the older milongueros at this dance did not invite younger women wearing un-traditional clothing (us). Oh well. They were fun to watch. I could see all the leaders watching the footwork of the older gentlemen with great alacrity. We stayed there for 4 hours, and I had some of the best dances so far. Quite a blissful evening for me. Laura got off to a lsower start. But in the end was not unhappy. Some characters: Desperately Seeking Something woman (in her 60s) – permanently stuck in the eighties with weird tattered lace and extremely bad hair (looked like she was wearing a hair-dye cap with tufts pulled out of it. ACK! Although not a bad dancer, just made us cringe to look at her. (FYI weird hair color of choice this year in BSAS: red-pink. Blah. And lots of eyebrow piercing among the younger set.) Another character: Butter Boy (real name Henrique) but so called by Laura due to his very smooth leading. I danced with him a lot, as it was very fun, and I could tell he was holding his Nuevo side down. I also danced with Scott (more bliss) and a French leader Jean who I remember from last year.
After a Café con leche and Empanada break at 4 am (at our favorite Café de la Ciudad – the air smelled smoky, as if the fires from the Pampas were infiltrating the city again, if you remember the tango diaries from last year, for 3 days the city smelled like it was on fire. For those tango diaries, go to http://www.wmpg.org/?programming and click on Shaken and Stirred and then click on the link to the tango diaries), we hopped into a taxi and headed to la Viruta at 4:30. (ridiculous) and met up with many of those who had been at Maipu. La Viruta is the catch–all milonga that is open until 6 am. Folks head there after leaving the other milongas. It is a strange mix of young and old, disco and tango, usually crowded with flashing colored lights. Its in the basement of the Armenian Culture center in Palermo. Ordering more coffee and medialunas for some blood sugar, we danced until 6 am. I found Butter boy again, (yay- experimental tango for the last 20 minutes in ballet flats) and Laura found Leo. We closed the place down. Leo was nice enough to drive us home in the high-level-security autobus. I checked the time just before hopping into bed. 7 am Sunday. TH=6 or more.
Just woke up, wrote this, and will now head down to the Malva museum of Art in Palermo. Then on to La Glorieta (a beautiful open- air gazebo milonga in the late afternoon).
5th entry: Tango diary Sunday/Monday/Tuesday 4/27,28,29
Sunday 4/26/09
Awoke rather late (1 pm-ish again), and had breakfast. This is becoming the norm. We decided to vist the Museo de las Bellas Arts on Avenida Libertador. I walked down and met Laura at the museum. On the way, I walked through Recoleta where there was a big artisanal fair with stalls as far as the eye could see. Selling handmade everything: art, mate gourds, necklaces. Hand puppets, more mate gourds, leather sandals, threads of glass drops (for what?) rastas giving folks dreadlocks, jugglers, poi artists, musicians, yet more mate gourds, paintings (good, bad and really ugly) sculptures, toasted sugar-covered peanuts, surprise- more mate gourds, woolen hats, scarves, socks, leather wallets, everything else made of leather, hand printed t shirts, photographs, and finally - you guessed it- mate gourds. Quite a seething mass of humanity all located on top of and around the Recoleta Arts building and its very torn up grounds. It looks completely bulldozed on one side. This deconstruction seems to happen all over BsAs. The sidewalks are a mess everywhere. Some sort of work is required, workers tear huge holes in the sidewalks, and then pile bits of debris back in the hole, cover it with a few boards, and consider the repair done. It is like this in all neighborhoods- ritzy Recoleta and grittier Once. Although not so much in Palermo. We saw workers attacking a poor defenseless and perfectly fine piece of sidewalk in the Centro for no apparent reason except for the fact that was not broken. Makes for hellish situations with strollers. I helped a mother extricate herself from a huge sidewalk pothole, and I have only seen one wheelchair so far in the city. I’m not sure what wheelchair-bound folks do here. It’s well-nigh impossible to get around the rushing crush of people and the rutted sidewalks. Laura met a French sociologist at one of the milongas who is examining the handicapped population in Latin and North America and Europe. In North America disabled folks have a strong voice and empowerment – think of current building codes and event access requirements. Here, folks may be disabled from malnutrition or genetics and seem to accept their lot more philosophically and do not necessarily seek more representation or power. Good? Bad? I’m apt to say bad, but I live in a more entitled society.
Anyway, Laura and I met at the museum and enjoyed the contemporary art exhibit there. We hopped onto a colectivo and headed to La Glorieta (with a yummy little empanada break in between). La Glorieta is held in a beautiful gazebo. Its an outdoor milonga with about 200+ people milling about on a gorgeous marble floor. Looking up you will see a pretty wooden canopy. Had some lovely dances, and had to do a bit of avoidance of big-bad-bald-Salon Canning-guy (see last years Tango-Diaries) along with a few ancient and rather wobbly characters. Met up with Butter Boy (aka Enrique) and had some lovely dances there. He invited us to an Asado (grill) at his house later on in the week, and we will actually be going tonight (Tuesday). We took a taxi back home, power napped until 12:30 am and had some food to wake ourselves up. We got to Porteño y Bailarin (PyB) at about 1:00 am where we bumped into Scott and his partner Niky, Shaun V (from Portland Oregon - I call him shorty. He’s about 6’6”) as well as a crowd of locals we are getting to know quite well. Shaun danced with one of the local women Laura and I call big-gazonga lady. When ha came back and sat down, I said “Shaun, I have to ask- what’s it like dancing with someone with such obviously fake breasts?” He replied “Its like dancing with two beach balls between us. But she’s a fantastic dancer- very smooth” After the milonga ended, Laura and I were invited for a coffee by Pablo and Carlos. Slipping out of the little midget door in the metal sheet that comes down over the store-front area, we headed to a local confiteria. Carlos is the organizer of Sunday/Thursdays at PyB. Pablo is a dancer who seems to be rather enamoured of my shoulders. I guess Argentine women don’t work out much. Pablo gave us a cd of beautiful old tangos which is now on both our computers with the understanding that we would meet him the following night at Niño Bien to return it. Sneaky Pablo. The conversation turned to bellydance, Carlos when he learned that I also dance Arabic style dance immediately asked if I would perform at PyB when I returned. I said I would be happy to and told him what I charged. He kinda turned purple and blew coffee out his nose. I guess most performers get paid less in BsAs. The couple (absolutely beautiful) that had performed that night at PyB had been paid 200 pesos. I told him I’d be happy to do it for that amount. (whoo hoo! Can you imagine?! Me being the featured artist at Porteño y Bailarin?!) Hilarious! Definitely going to follow up on that next year.
Monday 4/27/09
Monday, we awoke at 1:30 pm (again) and went shoe shopping. We had the greatest intentions of going to the Malva, but pooped out after walking to Neo Tango and Comme il Faut ( I think I’m going back to get some awesome red stilettos). I name all my bellydance costumes, and all my pairs of tango shoes. These will definitely be called the “Red-Hots”. So instead of visiting the museum, we headed home to sleep a bit more so we could dance later.
Later…the first stop was Niño Bien – I had ok dances, although the last one was a bit paradoxical. This guy (Jorges old guy, single earring in ear, buzz cut white hair) was seemingly innocuous, although rather rigid and stiff in his embrace. When I missed a particular cue for an unfamiliar move, he started barking orders in abrupt Spanish in my ear. I let it go once, and when he led the move again, I was able to follow it, so I felt like I had gained experience. When it happened again, I stopped the dance mid-flow and told him “this is a milonga, not a lesson” and walked off the dance floor. He immediately made a courtly gesture and followed me off the floor, saying something like “you need to learn, or its how you learn”. I didn’t get it and I didn’t care. If I want a lesson, I’ll take a lesson. When relating this later to both Laura and Scott, they applauded the action. Even though it was a weird ending to the dancing at Niño Bien that night, it was strangely empowering.
Also, the young barman called me over, told me I was beautiful and asked if I would meet him at el Beso Thursday night. (I am having a really good ego-stroking vacation!!) I told him maybe, no promises. At this point, I don’t even know when my next meal will be (though it will probably involve empanadas), much less where I’ll be dancing two days from now.
From there we went to an alternative milonga space at 572 Independencia. See Laura’s photos for visuals. It is held in a beautiful hidden space. A door next to a skanky garage in San Telmo: a rickety staircase, a huge mirror and spooky doors opening to big room with local crazy art on walls. Que WOW. (my newest expression). This venue is a great metaphor for taking risks and trying out strange places, because of the hidden beauty one can possibly find. Both in people and places. We were at a Despedido for Scott and Niky, our Australian friends. This is the lovely Latino term for going-away party. Niky and Scott have been in BsAs for 11 months - I cannot imagine the re-entry. I’m going to have a hard enough time after 2 weeks. I am already planning my return for next year (for 5 weeks next time if I can swing it!) We drank red wine, talked and danced a little. At the end of the night, I ended up speaking with a young and playful dancer called Maximiliano. He apparently dances at shows in the area. While Laura got to know the DJ (she has started doing research into old-style milongas), I had a great conversation with Maximiliano. the topic was how tango is a conversation – question and answer (pregunta y respuesta) as opposed to the man telling the woman what to do (older traditional style). I liken it to talking with someone. When one has a conversation, it is two sided with ideas flowing in both directions, if not, then it’s a lecture and can get quite boring (remember how lectures in university could put one to sleep. Even if the material is fascinating, a unidirectional flow of information will tire the attention of the listener if no participation is required) Needless to say, I had great dance with him, as this is exactly how I feel about the dance, it being a co-creation, with input and sensitivity from both sides. In fact we danced the place closed at end of the night until Laura was falling asleep in her chair. He was quite disappointed that we were leaving at the end of the week (ACK, tell me about it…) as he was interested in dancing creatively with dancers from other countries, since he feels they are less limited that many Porteñas. Oh well, next year Max…
Tuesday
I feel that for the first time in all my trips to BA, I am finally penetrating the real city. Last night we were invited by a dancer called Enrique (butter boy) to an Asado at his house. Interestingly, he lives only 3 blocks away from our beautiful space. An Asado would be insufficiently translated as a cook-out, or a grill, but for Argentinos, it is a serious thing. A traditional way of preparing and sharing meat more like a ceremony, or an event. A mere weenie-toast on a quickie gas grill it is not. Almost every place with an outdoor space has a grill or Parilla: a sturdy structure made of brick or stone with space for wood and a large grill surface. Terrasses, roofs and balconies are pressed into service. The asador takes his job very seriously, and it’s quite a level of distinction to host an asado. And a mark of manliness too. Meat in Argentina is cooked slowly and because all the animals are mostly grass grazed and not given hormones or antibiotics, the flavor is intense. I don’t eat a lot of meat in the US, as I find the quality poor, and the flavor inadequate. The price for quality local meat of known origin prohibits frequent consumption. Therefore, when I come to Argentina, I eat meat and truly enjoy it. Argentinos eat every part of the cow, and last night I found myself faced with blood sausage (this was a first for me), chorizo (awesome!) then there was another cut (don’t remember name) and ribs. Laura and I had brought a bottle of wine and a salad, so the sausage got wrapped in a lot of lettuce. But it would have been impolite to refuse my host (or question his manliness in meat preparation, I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Men are SO sensitive…right, guys?)
This experience was another foray into the real BsAs, one that most tourists who come, dance at milongas, buy shoes, and visit touriosites don’t get to see. Enrique’s space included a dance studio with beautifully dilapidated balconies, hallways open to the outside connecting the cramped little rooms, a diminutive kitchen, (el que cocina, no lava!) 2 tiny European style bathrooms with shower on the walls, and tangled steep metal stairs to the roof top where the Asado was held. Laura struck up a conversation with Marco, a Serbian Gardel-worshipping cantador who speaks 4 languages, and reads Rabelais for fun just like Laura. We ate more meat in one sitting than I eat probably in a year. Then Enrique followed this up with a beautiful dessert (postre) of grilled bananas in their skins, slit open with fresh lemon juice and sugar applied. YUM x 1000. gotta try this at home. Perfectly simple elegant and delicious end to a very filling meal. Laura headed off to PyB and I then spent another 3 hours dancing with Enrique in his studio dancing and talking Nuevo tango theory, organic food in Argentina and the US, the farm I am so proud to be part of, his experience an a farm with horses. He walked me home at about 4 am, and Laura had just got back herself. Fabulous crazy day. I am falling deeper under the spell of Buenos Aires and its people.
Ultimo Tango diary Thursday 4/30 and Friday May 1st
Wednesday night started at Milonga Maldita on the advice of Scott and Laura’s friend Eric. The Orchesta Tipica de L’Afronte was great – very dramatic, 4 bandoneons, cello, upright bass, 3 violins and an amazing cantador. (To listen to some of their music, google El Afronte) There was a lovely demonstration by a gentleman and a portly woman who’s skirt caught on on her heel. ACK! She very calmly and coolly during a pause reached back and unhitched the problem, then continued dancing. Note to self, too long stretchy skirts might costume issues. Cuidado!
I connected with director Gabriel Atúm of El Afronte. Became fan on facebook and sent a personal email. I hope he responds, as he wants to bring the group to the US, and I might be able to facilitate part of a US tour, hopefully we can bring them to Maine if they include Boston and environs in their plans.
Unfortunately, the level of dancing at La Maldita was quite low. Got caught by a couple of trawlers and then decided not to trust anyone I hadn’t seen dance already. Trawlers are my name for solo men circling the dance seating looking for partners. Not usually of very good quality. Men who circle the milongas seeking partners like this are usually to be avoided. Not always, but 85% of time. I have learned now after 4 years that I have enough experience to say no and wait for a more quality partner .The higher quality dancers were not inviting extrañeras and the floor was quite empty, so Laura and I decided to have a dance together. We did a waltz tanda - dancing with Laura is such a dream no wonder she is so sought after at the milongas. We evidently had a lot of fun, and A German gentleman then asked me to dance a milonga – yay - while Laura danced with Eric. I have noticed that German tango dancers are very friendly and happy people. We blew out of Maldita in favor of El Beso and had some great dances. Laura and I have noticed that some dancers are interested in dancing with only one of us, and will not invite the other chica to dance. We complain about it to each other. For example, at El Beso (translated as The Kiss, by the way) a guy by the name of Daniel asked me to dance, and we ended up dancing four times during the night, but he never asked Laura, although she mirada’d him a lot. Similarly, a great dancer from Texas (Russel) was not interested in me at all, but was all over Laura. Annoying, but we both got lots and lots of dances the whole time we were down, so neither of us have anything to complain about, really. Ended the night at about 3:30 (rather early, we thought).
Thursday 4/30 was the day before Labor Day (May 1st). In most Latin American countries and also many European ones, workers are celebrated. Not in the US/Canada, although the Latino Community is bringing this holiday quite deservedly to North American attention. Avenida Nueve de Julio (the 16 lane monstrosity in the middle of the MicroCentro) was closed Thursday night and our taxi had to take a detour around the huge installations of banks of seating. Already, the trees and structures in the area were festooned with banners and protest signs for the president to see as she spoke. We made mental notes not to go anywhere near the Centro on Friday. We met Laura’s colleagues Eduardo and Hiroya (sp?) for dinner at Chiquilines, a rather sniffy restaurant in the Congreso area. Laura and I now prefer the grittier and smaller venues, and we are learning where they are from friends and contacts who live in BsAs. Anyway, we had a lovely time with Eduardo (who teaches at the University) and Hiroya (a composer doing a stay in BsAs) at Chiquilines. Strangely, it had TV screens in it and periodically every Porteño’s eyes were riveted as a soccer game between La Boca and River was on. Geez. The table next to us was a family group of guys and I was astounded by how much meat was loaded on to their table. Platters of steaks and ribs with nothing else except a basket of rolls. They also ordered large plates of fries, and finished it off by each ordering huge desserts. How Argentinos are not scurvy-ridden and obese I’ll never understand. Laura and I shared panqueques con dulce de leche, and Eduardo had a bread pudding which came with about 1/2 cup of ddl on the side. Yow. We all gave him a hand with that. Later we ended up at Niño Bien for my last night of dancing. It was jammed. Enrique had said earlier that he would join us, but was feeling a lot of pain due to a dental incident and could not dance. Que lastima! I certainly wouldn’t be able to concentrate on dancing if my tooth hurt either. This brings up a point on the overall dental health of South America vs North America. The fluoridation of water (for good or ill, depending on your view) certainly creates a disparity in dental strength between the hemispheres. I asked Enrique about this, and he mentioned that compared to other countries in S America, Argentina was quite good. A combination of discoloration due to lots of jerba mate and tooth damage due to either no fluoridation or different dental hygiene habits however, makes the average Argentinian smile less white and flashy that what we are used to in North America. ‘Nuff said.
Anyway, we got to Niño Bien (translates to “spoiled boy-child, or son of an affluent family) at about 1 am and were seated “al fin del mundo” near the stage, quite out of sight. Luckily a few decent dancers were seated near us, so it wasn’t terrible and we inched our way forward as tables were vacated. Laura’s friend Jeff found us and invited us to join his table next to the dance floor, and things improved dramatically. No longer at the mercy of the trawlers, we had some lovely dances, though we had to do some more avoidance of various characters. Thanks goodness for the convention of the cabaceo, If one just steadfastly avoids looking at certain people, they cannot ask you to dance. We ended the night at about 4 am and headed home.
Friday, May 2st- el dia del Trabador or Labor day, so everything was closed - take note for next year! Supermarkets, banks - nothing is open on May 1st, except for a few fruit and veg places, and some bakeries. A bummer, as I wanted to get some hand-sanitizer for the plane. No such luck. I packed, went and had a goodbye dance with Enrique and hung out on his fabulous sunny rooftop terrasse. We had a farewell empanada and ddl helado,and Luis picked me up to go to the airport at 5:30. The weather has been incredible these past 2 weeks. Sunny and in the 70s the whole time we have been in Buenos Aires – unseasonably warm. It has spoiled me for warm weather, so I hope to come back to some nice sunshine in Maine too.
Laura is leaving BsAs tomorrow. When I spoke with her last, she was pondering the problem of too many men asking to hang out with her on her last night. I told her to fly solo. I can’t wait to hear about how she resolved it all.
I am already planning my return trip for next year. I can’t wait to revisit my new friends, dance 5-7 hours a day and find more treasures buried in this beautiful melancholy dilapidated yet modern and completely loco city. Maybe next time I’ll even make it outside Buenos Aires.
Make sure you listen to DJ Adira and DJ Laura on the post- BsAs trip on Shaken and Stirred, Friday 10:30 – noon US Atlantic coast time 90.9 or 104.1 FM in Portland ME) http://wmpg.org and click on the shoutcast button on the right. I hope my new friends in S America will join the listenership.
Besitos y Abrazos, y hasta pronto!
Emma
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxo