Recuerdos

Way back in early November, 2007, we made our first pilgrimage to Buenos Aires. I wrote about it in this blog and anyone who wants to can go back and read about it. But every day is someone's new day to try it out there. They go, as I did, with a big feeling of wanting something. Wanting to go to milongas and be asked to dance and to be able to say and to feel that they have made it work there. If you can make it there.....etc.

We were lucky, even though we were baby dancers then, and really not ready for anything. We had some friends, made some new ones, asked for the help we needed, and tried very hard to stay out of trouble and to remember that Buenos Aries is not ours in which to ask for anything.

My first foot on the floor was at Maipu 444, and I forgot which night, but Blas, a very nice gentleman was the host. We later got to know him a little more over at Milonguita on Jorge Newberry. Lucky, and staying out of trouble mostly.

My first real try at getting a dance all by myself and with no helpers, was, as recommended by Caroline, at the renowned and gorgeous Belle Epoch hall of swanky-ness and eternal cool, La Confiteria Ideal.

I sat for awhile, of course. Then the oldest (I mean somewhere between ninety and one hundred years old) person asked. It is always a mistake to accept a verbal invite there, but since he was blind, and I was sitting, I thought what the hell, and took him up on it. Or rather, ended up holding him up, and shuffling around. But what the hell, it is just dancing right? My father had just died, and old men were having a big effect on me. Every one of them was somehow a bit of him, a chance to hold him in my arms in a way I probably never did in life. So I just gave it my best and that was it.

After that dance, a beautiful man, much younger, a real youth at seventy-five, and well dressed, asked me to dance. I love it when you make the eye contact, he stands up, and moves toward you. This man buttons his jacket with a confident flourish. He was lovely, that first transport into Buenos Aires milonga dreams. And after that another, and another...and questions of course, in Spanish: "How long will you be here?", "Where will you be dancing?" You know, everyone says that this is a come-on and maybe so, you know, rich Americans here, get some while you can. But to me this isn't what I felt, and not what I responded to. I just felt....timeless, ageless, happy, lucky. And I was, and I am.

We went as a couple. My husband works hard, and sometimes I don't see him enough. I wasn't that keen to act single and sit at the women's table. I miss him, I am proud to be his companion.

As most visitors figure out, if you are presenting as a couple, no one will dance with the woman. And so strategy must be employed.

So instead we went in a small group normally and ended up at the tourist table mostly, except when meeting up with local friends. There are only certain things that I want from tango. I think that I actually get plenty of it from Seattle now. But damn, I am pretty much wanting to go back! Damn.

So. No advice from me. When you go, you are on your own. Just bring what you have, including money, love, your inner music, your recent tragedies and hopes, and your heart, and soul. Try not too lose all of it there. You know. Bring it, and offer it carefully, and don't ask for too much. The only sure thing is that something will happen to you. It might not be what you expected, or desired, but something will happen. You might be lucky too.