My Tango Diaries

From:  http://www.morguefile.com The slight, shy leader in front of me had started tango lessons a few months before, dabbled in it a bit, and with many other dances, but within the last month decided to get serious about tango. That night he was attending his first milonga. I was happy to see him return to tango. When I met him in a class a couple of months prior to that, I was struck by his warmth and gentleness. So when he asked me to dance, I accepted, and told him how happy I was that he was coming out to the milongas. He smiled warmly and embraced me with such tenderness that I was momentarily too surprised to move. Had I mistaken him for someone else? Had we danced socially before and I just didn't remember? Nope - this was the same leader I remembered from the class. We changed weight for a moment and I decided to risk startling him (which happens sometimes with new leaders), and hold him like we'd been dancing for ages. He embraced me back with th

Going through emails and messages over one of the links I posted on Facebook, to Irene and Man Yung's Tango Blog about "Mean Girls" about the hows and whys of rejection. These are quotes from two of the comments and they both reflect what I hear a lot from leaders: D: " What I was objecting to was the followers who insist on only dancing with expert leaders despite having relatively low skills themselves." D: "When you [comment addressed to me] talk about not betraying the dance, you are talking about people's skill level, their artistic ability, not about the danger of injury, and not about manners. And this is a topic that comes up a lot, and it's usually quite explicitly about skill level. " All I can say is - no, I'm not actually talking about skill level, and I really don't know how I can make that more clear. *exasperated sigh*   Please highlight this as possibly the most important thing I may ever write a

Dancing in Austin, Denis and Deena's Milonga // --Mari The Guest House This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes As an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they're a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still treat each guest honorably. He may be clearing you out for some new delight. The dark thought, the shame, the malice, meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in. Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent as a guide from beyond. From Essential Rumi by Coleman Barks

San Telmo Plaza Dorrego - Wikipedia Images "There is always an elderly, overweight, Argentine guy in a suit who slowly dances around the edge of the dance floor, and all he does is walking and maybe an ocho once in a while. And he has usually an amazingly beautiful girl who dances incredibly well plastered all over him. Be that guy. "There is also always a someone on the dance floor who wrestles his partner through all kinds of maneuvers, interrupted only by short pauses where he repeats a move 5 time till it "works", or where he explains just exactly how the follower has to move to make the 40 step sequence he wants to do work. Note that he dances mostly with beginners. Note the frozen smile on his partners face. Don' be that guy ." Still one of my favorite quotes about tango, originally from Dance-forums.com - http://www.dance-forums.com/showthread.php?p=514203

(Picture courtesy of http://www.morguefile.com ) Fragments of a Conversation Body at War I can't remember a time when my body was not on guard. Ready to decide - stay and fight or run away. My secret daily routines as a child included having a bag packed at all times. Scanning every building for places to hide. At a very young age, I knew if I were running from someone, don't go up, don't go into rooms with no exit or window, don't get trapped. This isn't the sort of information a child should have to know, is it? I don't even remember where or how I learned it. I just knew I always had to have a plan. If I couldn't make myself safe, I could make myself ready . I lived in Nebraska, Iowa, South Dakota, Arizona, Massachusetts, and finally landed in Texas. Every place I lived, until I moved in with my husband, I had a bag packed. Every time we moved, I made plans for where I would need to go.  Even now, when I walk into a room, I note th

"So, what is this that you do ? You don't want to teach. You don't want to perform. You don't want to compete. Yet you're going to South America for it! What are you ever going to do with tango?" I can't explain and that makes my heart ache. "I'm just going to dance, grandma - until I can't anymore."

Hopefully issues with the ability to comment are resolved. If not, please email me at infinitetango (at) gmail.com directly and I'll put in another ticket with Blogger.

(Picture courtesy of www.morguefile.com ) Me entrego a tus brazos Con miedo y con calma Y un ruego en la boca Y un ruego en el alma -- Con Toda Palabra by Lhasa de Sela Tonight there is a heaviness in his heart. I can feel a melancholy weight between my hand on his back,  . . .  and my own heart beating. He is sad about something. . . Or someone. Tonight, he smiles, but the smile doesn't reach his lowered eyes. He embraces me the way he always does, then pauses . . . very still, not even a breath, his arm holds me a little closer. I hold him a little tighter in return and he relaxes slightly. We take a deep breath together. The second phrase starts and we glide into the stream of dancers. He is here, but also somewhere else . . . . . . . . reliving something that the music has brought to mind. Translation (courtesy of Lyricstranslate.com ) "I surrender to your arms with fear and with calm and a prayer on my lips and a prayer in my heart

(Picture courtesy of Morguefile.com ) The Fandango de Tango festival is over and I'm back at work, trying to remember what it is I do in the daylight hours. I must be dreaming music at night because when I wake up, the silence around me is heavy and sudden - like someone switching off a radio. I think I danced  more at this festival than any previous one I've attended. Five milongas (no classes) - and then I danced again at our local Monday night milonga at Cafe Medici. I wish I could go tonight. I'm pushing off the inevitable tango hangover, but it's coming. I can feel it. The biggest lesson I learned this weekend - nothing beats just asking for what you need .  I think I need to tattoo that on my hand so I don't forget. I danced far more than I thought I would be able to, but it wasn't easy. By the third night it was clear to me, and probably to many of my partners, I wasn't going to be able to keep up the pace.  Saturday night, at le

Picture courtesy of Morguefile.com At different points in my life I've had the opportunity to work with several exotic dancers, as a coworker in their "day job", and as their make-up artist, photographer etc.  I've been amazed at how transferable the advice I got from them about dancing around, and with, men, is to women in tango and other partner dances. 1. Smell good, but don't smell strong . Leaving a "fragrance trail" on gentlemen is not usually appreciated by them, or by the next woman who dances with them. 2. Limit (or preferably eliminate) the glitter or anything else that will end up on your partner. Married or not, it's not likely your partner wants to wear glitter home - or transfer it on to the next woman he dances with. 3. Same goes for make-up - waterproof and transfer-resistant is the way to go. It's such a cliche but it's disturbing how often I see lipstick on collars. 4. Care about the music you're dancin

I'm going to Buenos Aires in May. The words don't feel real yet, but I am definitely going. I'm excited and terrified at the same time. This is one of many times that I'm completely in awe of my mom. She went to Brazil on her own, at 19 years old, during the military dictatorship, and without knowing a single complete sentence in Portuguese. Damn. I've never travelled anywhere outside the US. My practical reason is that I have enough points to convert to Delta Skymiles to pay for the round trip flight, and that was the biggest obstacle. Now I just have to come up with the money to pay for everything else. The emotional reason is quite a bit different. It's not intellectual, not practical, almost not rational. It's visceral. Or, lately as I talk about it more, it's a feverish infection taking over my higher reasoning.  I try very hard not to let fear guide any decision I make, but while fear may not be in the driver's seat right now,

An (online) conversation with my very amusing friend, a tango dancer born in Buenos Aires, and currently living in Europe. Name withheld to protect the guilty.  ;) J:   The best part of dancing with porteñas is they way they connect so completely with me. J: They are so close, so completely connected, it feels like they are trying to dance inside my shirt. J: There is nothing the same. Me: Wow, that's very close indeed. J:   Yes. And why I am so deeply sad. Me: Because you're in [European city] right now? J: No.  Because they don't actually want to dance inside my shirt  . . . . J: . . . J. I feel so used . . . Me: *smirk* J: hmm.  I sense you do not sympathize with the heavy burden I must carry.

From fellow tango dancer and blogger, Jan Ulrich Hasecke, a lovely guest post on connection and embrace. (Thank you again Jan, for letting me post your thoughts on my blog.) Connection in Tango Jan Ulrich Hasecke I promised to write something about my thoughts about connection in #tango . "What does connection in tango mean to you and how do you create it?" I was asked on Google+. I bragged that I could talk the whole day about connection in tango but was too busy to do it at once. Ok, I won't talk the whole day about connection and maybe I won't find the right words to describe what I mean, but here I deliver on my promise. Connection in tango means everything to me. It's the reason I dance. Showing some cool steps is nice but I can only enjoy them when they add to the connection and don't spoil it. A great dancer and teacher once said in his workshop that tango is the only dance, where you dance /together/. To get and to keep the conne

 . . .is enough.      [written on a napkin on the way home from a milonga . . .  Very rough draft, but sometimes it's better to leave it that way.] How many painful tandas does it take before I learn? I've got to break this habit of telling myself, It must be me . it must be something I did. I'm not good enough . If I just adjust, it'll work. My mistake was thinking this was a bad tango habit. It's not. In fact, this isn't really about tango. There's a much longer history at work here and you know it , I thought, accusing my red-eyed, disheveled reflection. My reflection in the milonga venue's bathroom mirror blinked back and sighed. I scowled at her and thought sternly (in my best "I mean it this time" voice): "If it hurts, I'm done." No matter who it is, no matter where I am. Even if we're friends, especially if we're friends . . . Say thank you for the dances, but you're hurting me, a

My answer to Cherie's comment, which was: Really interesting post and one that obviously you have thought a lot about. Please don't take it as a negative when I say that the dancers of traditional tango milonguero here in BsAs don't feel that way. The idea of a conversation between two bodies is rather recent, and foreign. Enclosed in the tango embrace, the body is one--not with four legs, but with two, as this body is only standing on two legs at any one time. It's Ying/Yang--one whole from two parts that meld together and make something new. When I dance I don't feel the need to tap or to do rulos or raise my left shoulder in time to the music--I am completely within the music and at the command of my partner, and with his design of the dance, I can express myself and the music perfectly in his embrace without adding anything but elegant posture and good technique. It's not a struggle between two minds of how to dance this song, but a blending of sou

Ghost, Here is my response to your questions in the comments of my "Hearing through my Partner" post. Altering the conversation (from this follower's perspective) When a leader leads a movement, there are varying degrees of energy, speed, fluidity etc. he or she can lead the movement with. That tells me about the structure I have to work within. This is an area where I think perhaps some nuevo tango teachers might be doing a better job explaining certain dance concepts like energy exchange, compression, and expansion etc. I'm trying not to generalize, but I've noticed that this topic comes up more in nuevo-based classes, which I think has a lot more to do with how nuevo developed as a teaching method , rather than the actual sequences and moves that are taught and then associated with "nuevo tango". There are so many factors in deciding how much I can contribute, before I even get to what the music might actually call from my body to

The tanda was not going well. After the first song, I broke my rule and apologized, telling my partner that I couldn't keep up with him and could we slow down a little bit. My leader had taken a couple of large steps against the line of dance and bumped another couple, so I was rattled and for some reason, I couldn't seem to get my right ankle to cooperate with me. Quick steps and traspies were taking their toll.  He even started telling me verbally what he needed me to do. All I could do was answer, I can't - not that fast . I should have sat down, but I'm always so apprehensive about giving an early thank you - I only do it if there's no other way I can make a tanda work out. The second song went even worse. He seemed to go faster, not slower, and when I couldn't move fast enough, his fingers dug into my ribcage harder. I was heartbroken that I seemed to be dancing so badly to music I loved. My ankle wase getting stiffer, even as I tried to

Dear Facebook, I quit. I finally did it. I divorced Facebook. I haven't closed the account, because frankly that doesn't really delete my info anyway and if people absolutely have to reach me that way, I can still (eventually) get the message. But I deleted all but a couple of pictures, notes etc. Also, I removed the ability for anyone but me to post to my wall or tag me in posts or pictures (without my permission anyway.)  I have moved to Google Plus that I love more and more.  I have friends all over the political and religious spectrum, and we manage to have actual civil discourse about issues without the usual hateful remarks or flat out trolling. It's amazing!  The downside is that my traffic to my blog is way down since so much of it was driven by Facebook. So I'm forging new paths on Google+ and using Twitter a bit more. It's coming back up, slowly. I'm keeping my blogs, my Twitter account, and LinkedIn. I'm only dropping Facebook - becau

Listen well. Learn to be quiet enough to hear the genuine within yourself so that you can hear it in others . ~ Marian Wright Edelman (Thank you Heather for the quote. Picture courtesy of Morguefile.com .)

The Friday night milonga a couple of weeks ago was both incredibly beautiful and, at times, intensely frustrating. I had several amazing, connected dances Friday with wonderfully patient and generous gentlemen. La Tazza Fresca has a wonderful vibe that keeps people coming back despite the hard, concrete floor that's murder on the knees.  The sound system is a bit rough but the food and atmosphere are fantastic. The rough sound system plus the number of loud conversations along the side of the dance space made it impossible at times for me to hear anything but the strong rhythm of the music. The problem is, only part of the frustration is the result of the venue. Most of it is me. I've yet to write about it, and have talked about it very rarely, because as a dancer I'm still embarrassed. I know better, but the little voice always comes back . . . If leaders know I can't hear - no one will dance with me. I have congenital Sensorineural Hearing Loss

This topic recently came up in conversation, and then again in Katya Merezhinsky's note on Facebook titled, "Conversations about a Follower's Technique" (concerning followers in Washington, DC): The issues according to Katya, in Washington DC anyway: 1.) It is very common that women in the class are there just to accompany men, but not to learn their own part. 2.) The majority of students are men. 3.) The level of followers in the city has dropped significantly compare to the leader's progress. I bring these up, even though she is specifically speaking about Washington DC, because these conversations are happening in tango communities all over, even in Austin. 1. Are the followers slacking in class? As to the first point, in Austin when I have been able to attend workshops, I haven't noticed this to be true thankfully. In fact I've overheard a great deal of frustration from followers when their partners decide they'd rather work on s

Technically, these are street shoes. But I'm taking my teacher, Daniela Arcuri's advice, wearing shoes that fit and do the job well, regardless of the label inside.  (Her exact words were, "I don't care if they come from Payless, if they fit well, support you, and slide easily, they work for tango." Specs: Brand: Adrienne Vittadini Retail price: $99 Marshall's price: $49 Heel height (somewhat hidden by the carpet): 3.75" Material: Leather upper and hard leather sole. Colors: Available in gold/beige and black/silver. The shoes have excellent arch support and shock absorption. While the sole is very sturdy, it is still flexible and I can lift my heel another inch or so off the ground when I flex my foot. The heel is set slightly forward, the same as my tango shoes. The heels are well balanced with no wobble. I thought the zipper heel was sort of gimmicky until I put it on and it conformed really well to my hard-to-fit narrow heel. (Plus my fe

  "Tango is a dance that is about a movement between here and there, about an exchange between two bodies, about the pain of disconnection and the desire for communication." Erin Manning, "Politics of Touch: Sense, Movement, Sovereignty" I keep trying to explain something that I have no good words for. I can't even explain why it's so important to me to express it. Maybe this is why so many people, when they are most passionate talking about tango, throw their hands up and fall helplessly back to cliches. Tango is a feeling that is danced. I know that my own experience is coloring my judgment on the matter.  Maybe it's worse than that. Maybe it's my way of making excuses for myself. When I stand on the edge of the pista, my leader in front of me, I falter. I have just a second of flight response. I wonder what new way my body will conspire against my best attempt at a graceful dance. I can't offer an athlete's body or my

Courtesy of morguefile.com It had been an evening of favorite music - I couldn't believe my luck. I can't dance as often as I would like these days, and it seemed like I was making up for lost time in warm, wonderful dances. A Rodriguez tanda started and I was smiling so hard my face almost hurt.  Halfway into the first song, my partner tried a somewhat complex sequence and, in close embrace, it just didn't come off.  Once around the floor, he tried again, and again it didn't work well. We shifted a bit, got back on track and continued. During the next song, he broke the embrace and pushed me away, led the sequence completely and then brought me back to close embrace. I couldn't get the connection back. I can't think of any other way to put it than my feelings were hurt. To me it felt like he put the "move" before our embrace. I didn't want to settle back against his chest if he was going to just push me back out again. I wish th

Pain is temporary. It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place. If I quit, however, it lasts forever.  -- Lance Armstrong My old companion is back. Sometimes it is resting on my shoulders, sometimes squeezing my ribs, sometimes clawing at my legs. In its wake, I'm sore, angry, tired . . .  and scared. More paralyzing than the pain, as always, is the fear of the pain which has settled over my skin. I'm dancing less and less. I go as often as I can, dance as long as I can. Saturday night I made it two tandas and then my calf seized up hard enough to turn my ankle and pull my foot under.  My partners have been patient with me. I can feel the change in my dance, I'm sure they can feel it too. A couple have said so.  I'm slower, less responsive, heavier. I can either dance in pain, or dance under the sedating effect of muscle relaxers that minimally help control the pain. E