My Tango Diaries

More apilado from Gavito This was posted on Dance Forums, referring to Gavito's Basic (as an elegant, alternative way to get the lady to cross). I can hear my inner tango dancer saying, slow down . . slow ... slow... And to the leader who said leads who spend all their time "just walking to the cross or something" (and not doing anything more flashy) are dull - there's nothing boring about these cruzadas, baby.

When I had only been dancing a few months, I attended two milongas at Fiesta de Tango, held at Austin's Omni South Hotel. It was a beautiful affair. The music was wonderful and the events were well attended. I was told it would be a great opportunity to dance with new people and how exciting that would be. When I got there, all I could do was look for familiar faces. Back then, there weren't too many. I danced with a few people, tried to mingle a bit, watched the performances - but mostly I was too nervous to relax and enjoy myself. Everything felt too big - the floor, the crowd. Too overwhelming. It made me miss my regular weekend milongas. I felt homesick for familiar surroundings and familiar people. This time, ten months into my tango life, I expected to have an easier time at Fandango de Tango, held by the same organizer, Ricardo Moncada (Learn to Dance Austin) at the same venue. When I walked in with my friend, I immediately looked for familiar faces. I was nervous alread

The Sweaty Truth This is a tough topic for everyone. The Tango Jungle has a marvelous, and vividly descriptive post called "Something Stinky This Way Comes" that addresses the pitfalls of poor personal hygiene. Here's just a sample: "It was a heady, complex bouquet of rotting meat, sweaty feet, rotten eggs, musty clothes, kitchen grease, and Roquefort dating back to the French Revolution. Dude. Was. Ripe. " I'm no angel in this department - I've had my share of embarrassing experiences. First of all, I don't "glow". I wouldn't even use the word "perspire" because it sounds too classy for the state I frequently find myself in. I sweat. At one milonga last spring, the AC went out at the venue and all of the dancers, myself included, were just pouring sweat. These things happen. If you want to keep dancing, you learn how to deal. Which means I have learned that nothing, but nothing , takes the place of being scrupulously cl

Just when you thought I couldn't pick a more embarrassing, personal topic than bras - I go and bring up hygiene and beauty habits. Let's face it - it's bound to come up. We're packed in like sardines, embracing one another - it's hot, there are empanadas to be had. These things happen. Some of this post comes from my dozen (or so *cough*) years in the beauty industry schlepping perfume - and some of it comes from embarrassing experiences of my own. Since this is a fairly big topic (that seems to be coming up a lot in coversation lately), I'm going to break this up into a few posts. Part I: Fragrances (as opposed to odors) Part II: Odors, or why you should never turn down a mint. Part III: Tricks, tips and handy little helpers. Part I - Perfume and Cologne Here are the basic rules about fragrances: Fragrance Fatigue: If you've been wearing the same fragrance regularly for awhile - you can no longer accurately gauge how strong it smells on you. I promise I

Freeing the Free Leg Almost no one changed partners at last night's practica so I worked a great deal with one gentleman in particular, which turned out to be a great opportunity. This gentleman tends to lead a lot of movements that count on the follower's free leg truly being free - displacements, small and fluid volcadas and the like - so I got to really work on that aspect that's been so hard for me. After the second song I was finally able to relax my unweighted leg by default instead of trying to relax it when I realized the lead required it to be relaxed. The more I was able to relax that free leg - the easier it was for me to then work on an even harder technique issue . . . Relaxing my hips . . The trick with relaxing my hips is that they don't generally feel tense or tight. I've even caught myself saying, 'they are relaxed!' when a leader or teacher has tried to work with me on that. It wasn't until I started working with Daniela Arcuri in he

Something changed in me, in my dancing and in my goals, when I realized that the milonga experience was more important to me than my individual dance experience. When I decided that I was a part of a community, I couldn't just "take my ball and go home" if I didn't like something. I became committed, not just to tango, but to a group of people and experiences. I started looking for ways to have that "tango flow" milonga-bliss experience more consistently - paying more attention to the factors and actions (mine and others) that generated that feeling - and those factors that caused it to fall apart. It's more than just "being the tango you want to see in the world". Because, let's face it - some dancers are exactly the tango they want to see in the world, and they're the ones kicking folks on the pista. When the experience of the community took priority over everything else, I became more aware of my effect on other dancers on the floor

A wonderful weekend of tango - three days of lovely dances. Saturday I was so tired that I kicked off my shoes and danced three tandas in my stockings - which is quite a liberating experience. And I must admit that tangueros in socks are quite endearing. For the most part my weekend of dancing was one of warm embraces, fantastic take offs and landings, newly discovered comforts, and deep enjoyment of the wonderful tango community have found myself immersed in. It was also time to let go of the biggest obstacle in my enjoyment and growth as a dancer. I am finally starting to let go of "dancing in a state of apology" - that constant feeling of not being good enough - not following well enough. Thanks to the words one of my favorite local leader's on his own blog, Tango Beat ( http://tango-beat.blogspot.com ), I am trying to dance in a state of joy. I am trying simply to be happy in being able to do this as often as I can for as long as I can. I am through apologizing for th

The mantra from my partners used to be "wait . . . wait . . . wait" - now it's "slow . . . slow down . . ." It's hard to say if that's an improvement or just a new variation on an old problem. One of my partners last week worked with me for a tanda on this, advising me to stop trying to be on the music for the time being, but actually try to be a little behind it. Behind? Behind the music? Isn't that bad? But I tried it despite my scepticism. It took effort and practice to keep myself from rushing to be on the music - esepcially during molinetes when it's "my job" to keep myself on the music. When I did manage to wait, to get "behind" the beat, I realized why he had suggested it. While I waited for the music - he actually got the opportunity to lead me to the music - instead of me getting there on my own. I was so excited by that development I started rushing again - so we had to start over. Every turn, every sacada - "

Something that did surprise me about last weekend's hazardous milonga, is that one dancer, who usually dances larger, more nuevo style steps, was one of the dancers that kept me safest on the floor. I danced with him toward the end of the night when I was already a bit battered and anxious. He was perfectly calm, held me in close embrace and made me feel incredibly safe. He danced to the floor conditions and to the music. Even when I was flinching and "eek!"-ing all over the place (at other dancers, not at anything my partner was doing) - I could actually close my eyes for a few seconds at a time. He didn't bump me into anyone. I never felt anyone's heel hit me. So my homework for the week - to be repeated as necessary: I will not make assumptions about nuevo dancers. I will not make assumptions about nuevo dancers. I will not make assumptions about nuevo dancers.

In terms of milongas, there are chaotic floors, and then there are hazardous floors. Last week's milonga at a local coffee shop, which is usually a challenging venue anyway, was downright dangerous. Several followers, myself included, ended up bruised and scraped, not only from errant stiletto heels but from men performing their own adornments on a floor that had no room for it. At certain venues, you will always brush up against other couples - it's almost impossible not to. In those situations, for the sake of everyone's shins and calves, leaders and followers should both try to keep their feet on the floor. That night also taught me that I need to be more selective about accepting dances when the floor gets perilous. Normally I try very hard to adapt to the style of my partner. If a leader always wants to dance open embrace, I try to accommodate. However if everyone on the floor is dancing close embrace because there's no room to dance otherwise, I have a decision to

In an effort to keep my "energy directed upward" and "be tall" in my torso while dancing, I've been watching dozens of YouTube videos and studying posture and technique. (Of course I'm not just using this as an excuse to watch tango on YouTube all day - how dare you suggest such thing! This is research!) Anyway, I noticed several tangueras reach their arm over (and behind) their leader's head before they settle into the embrace. Sometimes it's clear they're doing it because the leader's much taller than she is. Other times though, it looks as though this movement puts her torso int he optimum positon. I always thought that the arm lifting thing was a dramatic affectation - since I saw it in so many performances. Now, I'm wondering it might be a valuable technique to try. Does anyone have any experience with this? Not surprisingly, I found a video of Maria Plazaola reaching up very dramatically over Carlos Gavito's head. What do you

The second class... I recognized a few people from the previous class as I came in. Then I noticed a few other people who seemed to be quite advanced in their dancing - at least from their warm up stretching and posture exercises. I tried to look casual. Or something that passes for casual. I was still over-dressed and I hadn't noticed right away that I still had my lanyard and badge around my neck. Nothing says sexy tango dancer like wearing your work badge and key around your neck. And I was still the oldest one in the class, but at least I'm here , I thought. I wasn't getting quite the mileage I thought I might get from telling my coworkers about my tango classes. "So how are the salsa classes?" "I'm taking tango and they're going great, thanks!" Two hours later, another coworker, "How are those samba classes going?" "Oh, I'm not taking samba, I'm taking Argentine tango - and they're going just great." Really

You like potato and I like pot ah to, You like tomato and I like tom ah to Potato, pot ah to, Tomato, tom ah to, Let's call the whole thing off. --- "Let's call the whole thing off!" by George Gershwin You like salon, and I like apilado. You like nuevo, and I like traditional. You like ganchos, and I like cunitas. So we meet in the middle. You come a little closer, and I stand a little straighter. We dance. We turn. My temple rests against your jaw. I step through your ocho cortado and feel it coming - you lead the gancho. I follow it. This time without hesitation. Through my lowered lashes, I see you smile. I smile back. And I think, 'okay, I'll say potato with you.'

Last night I went back to the beginning. I decided to go back to the beginner class and practica held at the university where I work. Climbing the steps to the building, I felt that same nervous anxiety. It was like starting all over. I can't believe I even thought about it - but I did, I considered turning around and going home. Wow, you've come a long way, baby. Or, not. I didn't turn around. I made myself go in. The class was wonderful - fairly evenly matched, so I didn't have to lead. While I was practicing with people newer to tango than I was (which I almost never get to do), I realized that it was so important to be here. I don't mean just for getting over my phobic nature - but also to be working with newer leaders who might want the help. I wanted to stay, to encourage them - to help them practice. So many more advanced leaders worked with me - and still work with me (several worked with me at practica that same night!). I'm so grateful for them. So the

Dancing with my instructor, learning apilado... "bend your knees lower . . . lean on me, lean, lean, lean . . .even more. That's it. I have you." A perfect "A" frame. Balanced, connected. The embrace soothes my always wary, and untrusting lizard brain. I wrote this shortly after my apilado class. My teacher was a woman. This topic came up in the comments on another post about women leaders. There are many fantastic female tango instructors who lead very well. There seem to be fewer that are able to create a feeling of connection, safety and comfort, however. (I say that knowing only too well that I am an absolutely terrible leader. I would dread following me. ) That said I never imagined what it would feel like to dance with a woman who was so comfortable in her skin, so grounded. It's rare enough for any of us to achieve that state I think. Relaxed into every inch of our bodies. How can you not be comfortable dancing with someone in that state? Male of fem

I have been so busy of late evangelizing about close embrace that I missed a gift occasionally offered by some of my partners. While it's true that I enjoy being held close for tanda after tanda - there is a beautiful sensation that can come from a slightly more elastic embrace. I noticed it when I was dancing Saturday and my partner opened the embrace a bit to make room for a step and a turn. I opened my eyes a second just long enough to notice we were indeed turning and then settled back into the embrace. So why was I able to stay in my coveted state of entrega for that - but I got jolted out of it other times? I think it's the way the opening is handled. Well, more accurately, the way I'm handled. When my partner opened the embrace, his arm around my back actually became firmer, more present. It was reassuring. Like a whisper in my ear, "I'm not letting go." And then, when we closed the distance again, he held me a little closer for just a second before we

Picture: "Abrazo" Grandparents, 1956 "My grandfather was a wonderful role model. Through him I got to know the gentle side of men. " Sarah Long One year. By the time I was born, my grandfather had most of his rough spots ironed out. I didn't get the short-tempered, stubborn man that my father and his siblings knew and spoke of. I got the gentle, jovial, loving man that I would adore for 37 years. In him I saw every wonderful thing a man could be. Courageous, tolerant, kind, and gregarious. He was a connector - of people, of ideas. If you needed help with anything, he always knew someone you could rely on. If you needed work, he always knew someone who needed help. His gift was talking with people - connecting with them and caring about them. His smile could disarm the angriest customer. His hugs could undo the damage of an entire bad month. abrazos y besos, abuelo. Te extrano mucho.

But what if I don't want to be Femme Fatale or a Wallflower? What if I just want to dance? " . . . all women who approach the milonga scene must learn, sooner or later, that every time they enter a milonga, they will do so as a wallflower. A woman's wallflower position will be tested every single night at the milonga, no matter how good a dancer she is. The events of the night, some of which are easier to predict than others, will bring her, more or less successfully, out of this position and closer to its opposite, the one of the dancing femme fatale. Dancing makes the difference. The wallflower becomes the femme fatale by dancing a sufficient quantity and quality of dances. But at the beginning of the night, unless she arrives with her set dancing partner, every woman wallflowers - and to a certain extent, do do men. Nobody enjoys it, and some are better at it than others." "In order to move out of the wallflower positon, you must become an object of desire, m

If we consider volcadas to be inappropriate, as some dancers do, on the social dance floor - how should we view the deep apilado embrace? Both can take up more room on the milonga floor, though both can also be done very small. It seems volcadas are often more stationary related to the line of dance. So would the issue be more about space used - or more about impeding the line of dance by stopping/slowing down? The first picture (in sepia tone) is a volcada example from Wikimedia. The second picture is an example of apilado embrace from Igor Polk's site about Tango Apilado: http://www.virtuar.com/tango/pics/2008/Paiva_DSC_2344.jpg I must admit that one of the reasons I agreed to learn volcadas is because, when done small and fluidly, it's like getting a little apilado "fix" in the dance. By small and fluid I mean I hardly feel them. By the time I think, 'oh wow, was that a volcada lead?' - it's over and I'm already stepping back from the cross. So read

(rant) At the milonga . . . The two dancers on the milonga floor are gorgeous. They're glamorous, musical, lightening-fast and precise in the execution of their steps. Dramatic, intense - everything that audiences love to see in tango dancers (on TV). They're also taking up three to four times more space on the dance floor as any other couple there. Dancers are giving them a wide berth because no one has any idea what they're going to do next. I sit at my table and watch the show - because that's what it certainly seems like to me - a show. I'm dismayed that this couple seems so completely absorbed in their dance, that they haven't noticed the look of panic on the dancers around them. And then I hear the remarks. Aren't they beautiful? God, they're such amazing dancers! Stunning - I wish I could dance like that. I have just got to learn how to do (whatever move they just did). We're so lucky to be able to watch them. I wish that he/she would dance wi

"Before the beginning of great brilliance, there must be chaos. Before a brilliant person begins something great, they must look foolish in the crowd." -- I Ching I have been told now six times, by six different tangueros, that I seem to follow better on a crowded floor. The observation doesn't surprise me since I certainly feel more cozy, connected, immersed , in a crowded milonga - getting to this point, however, surprises me a lot. The reason for improvement in my following may be as simple as less room to dance means a smaller, more limited vocabulary of steps. I can relax a little more because the chances of someone leading high boleos and such decreases dramatically. I can settle in. Tight spaces mean more walking, more turning, a closer embrace - all the things I love most in tango. Seems straightforward enough, doesn't it? Except this is totally new territory for me. Eight months ago I jumped at my own shadow. People approaching me from the side made me fli