A while ago I met this wonderful dancer, who gave me the honor of wanting to study with me.
Few days after a private, we were dancing at the milonga. Great fun, as always, - melting into each other's arms, who more who less ;) , while being playful and ripping the music apart. :)
Third song of the tanda, the music is getting more and more intense with the progression of the "variation", and so is our dancing. More instruments come in, the music gets faster, our feet are twirling on the floor, the embrace is getting tighter, and the breathing rapid. He freezes slightly during the final crescendo and throws himself over me on the last "pam pam", burying his head into my shoulder! For a second I just stood there in a shock, then slowly lifted up my right hand and covered his head, while awaiting to feel the inevitable trembling of his body followed by the warmth of tears. What provoked this reaction? What did the music or our dance trigger in him? Will he really cry on my shoulder in the middle of the milonga? Many times have men cried, hiding their heads in my shoulder, but non of them in a milonga!!!
After what seemed a whole, long while, he let go of me and beamed at me in a bright smile - his eyes completely dry! "What did just happen?!?", came right out of me. "I added feeling to the dance! :) YOU taught me I should do that! :) :)" Huuuuhhh?!?!?… And also, "Eeeehhhh?!?!?"… I do have pretty good recollection of what I taught him, and the "dying swan" technique was definitely not part of it!… But hey, in the end, who am I to tell him what is, or what is not a valid tango move!?… The rest of the tanda was much calmer (I wonder why… ;) ) and I have to admit I am quite happy he never repeated the lunge again. At least not yet.
Sunday, December 15, 2013
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
I am still hungry after last night's dinner.
Friends worked very hard to get us a reservation at this "extremely exclusive" sushi place in Manhattan - on 73rd Ave and York St. As they put it "only due to the bad weather there was a miraculous cancellation" and that's why we managed to get in. I am always suspicious of "exclusive" places, but I have to admit that I was also curious.
You can't just walk in there, for they have seatings. Ours is the last - at 9pm -, and we are required to be there on time or a little early. I like that. I am a punctual person, so no problem. We get there at 8:55pm and the place is still full - all seats occupied AND people already waiting inside. We stand outside the door, patiently waiting. The waiter sees us, and after some indecisive movements comes out and leads us into the next door Japanese place, where they welcome us to sit down and wait.
At 9:25pm (forget punctuality!) they came to get us. The "shush restaurant" is a hole in the wall - no tables, just a bar with 12 chairs. The waiter tries calling out names to seat us, but the process is far from smooth, since "Andrew" is getting transformed into "Aan-lu", and nobody recognizes himself as that person. It's a BYOB place, and we all take advantage of it right away, once everybody has a chair. The bar, behind which stand the sushi chefs, has two levels and on the higher one, in front of everybody, there is a small wooden tray with some pickled ginger on top of it and one empty glass for the alc. But no menu. For that there are two rows of paper sheets on the wall - one row called "appetizer" and the other "shushi", and on each sheet there is a name - like "Crab brain". Nothing more, nothing less.
The waiter comes and asks if "we don't eat something", and we explain that one of us does not like sea urchin. Then he asks if we want "???" We look at each other, shrug our shoulders and ask if we want "what"? He repeats the question using the same, unknown word. We ask what that is, but with this question we hit on the limit of his English vocabulary, and get no answer. He gets angry and repeats the same uninformative question again. We decide that we should probably want the "???", as later do all the others in the room.
That mystical order turns out to be sushi pieces that the chef prepares - only one piece per person -, puts on the small, wooden tray for you, and announces what it is. (You'd better not move the wooden tray, like I did, because it makes the chef unhappy, and he doesn't' give you food.) The sushi is made with everything they think you might need, and so they don't give you even soy sauce. Both, the waiter and the chef got quite offended when I asked for some. You should have seen the nervous jumps the waiter was doing on my side every time I dipped my sushi in the tiny puddle of soy sauce he brought me. At some point he came to me and reached as if to extract the small, problems causing bowl, but then thought better of it, and let me continue with my desecrating practice, while satisfying himself with disapprovingly shaking his head. Enjoy your dinner!
Aside from the fact that in my honest opinion the sushi did need soy sauce to give it more taste, most of it was quite good actually. Bland but good. And little. In the course of 1.5h, after getting 2 appetizers to share, each one of us was given about 10-12 single pieces of sushi, and a lot of water refills. I am really not a big eater, and yet even I didn't feel I got enough food. (Thank the gods for calories in alcohol!)
Around 10:30pm they announced that that was it, and that if we want more, we can order "a la card", which some of us did - a total of 6 pieces, and then the bill came… $115 per person!!! And bear in mind that there is no alcohol included in this price… $115 per person!?!?! Wait for 30 min to be seated, have a waiter, who doesn't speak the language, endure his grunting about the soy sauce, watch the chef throw your sushi in front of you, and that only if you place the tray where he wants you to, stay hungry because face it - not even a girl can get full with 15 bites of food, and pay $115 for it!?! I, the Eastern European, call this jumping through hoops and being treated like crap. My American friends called it "small business trying to stay local, and keep the neighborhood to the locals". I will let you be the judge.
Friends worked very hard to get us a reservation at this "extremely exclusive" sushi place in Manhattan - on 73rd Ave and York St. As they put it "only due to the bad weather there was a miraculous cancellation" and that's why we managed to get in. I am always suspicious of "exclusive" places, but I have to admit that I was also curious.
You can't just walk in there, for they have seatings. Ours is the last - at 9pm -, and we are required to be there on time or a little early. I like that. I am a punctual person, so no problem. We get there at 8:55pm and the place is still full - all seats occupied AND people already waiting inside. We stand outside the door, patiently waiting. The waiter sees us, and after some indecisive movements comes out and leads us into the next door Japanese place, where they welcome us to sit down and wait.
At 9:25pm (forget punctuality!) they came to get us. The "shush restaurant" is a hole in the wall - no tables, just a bar with 12 chairs. The waiter tries calling out names to seat us, but the process is far from smooth, since "Andrew" is getting transformed into "Aan-lu", and nobody recognizes himself as that person. It's a BYOB place, and we all take advantage of it right away, once everybody has a chair. The bar, behind which stand the sushi chefs, has two levels and on the higher one, in front of everybody, there is a small wooden tray with some pickled ginger on top of it and one empty glass for the alc. But no menu. For that there are two rows of paper sheets on the wall - one row called "appetizer" and the other "shushi", and on each sheet there is a name - like "Crab brain". Nothing more, nothing less.
The waiter comes and asks if "we don't eat something", and we explain that one of us does not like sea urchin. Then he asks if we want "???" We look at each other, shrug our shoulders and ask if we want "what"? He repeats the question using the same, unknown word. We ask what that is, but with this question we hit on the limit of his English vocabulary, and get no answer. He gets angry and repeats the same uninformative question again. We decide that we should probably want the "???", as later do all the others in the room.
That mystical order turns out to be sushi pieces that the chef prepares - only one piece per person -, puts on the small, wooden tray for you, and announces what it is. (You'd better not move the wooden tray, like I did, because it makes the chef unhappy, and he doesn't' give you food.) The sushi is made with everything they think you might need, and so they don't give you even soy sauce. Both, the waiter and the chef got quite offended when I asked for some. You should have seen the nervous jumps the waiter was doing on my side every time I dipped my sushi in the tiny puddle of soy sauce he brought me. At some point he came to me and reached as if to extract the small, problems causing bowl, but then thought better of it, and let me continue with my desecrating practice, while satisfying himself with disapprovingly shaking his head. Enjoy your dinner!
Aside from the fact that in my honest opinion the sushi did need soy sauce to give it more taste, most of it was quite good actually. Bland but good. And little. In the course of 1.5h, after getting 2 appetizers to share, each one of us was given about 10-12 single pieces of sushi, and a lot of water refills. I am really not a big eater, and yet even I didn't feel I got enough food. (Thank the gods for calories in alcohol!)
Around 10:30pm they announced that that was it, and that if we want more, we can order "a la card", which some of us did - a total of 6 pieces, and then the bill came… $115 per person!!! And bear in mind that there is no alcohol included in this price… $115 per person!?!?! Wait for 30 min to be seated, have a waiter, who doesn't speak the language, endure his grunting about the soy sauce, watch the chef throw your sushi in front of you, and that only if you place the tray where he wants you to, stay hungry because face it - not even a girl can get full with 15 bites of food, and pay $115 for it!?! I, the Eastern European, call this jumping through hoops and being treated like crap. My American friends called it "small business trying to stay local, and keep the neighborhood to the locals". I will let you be the judge.
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Cinderella's search
When I was in Buenos Aires in March 2013 I went shoe shopping. And I hate shopping. Period. Yet I had to comb the city, since I was looking to try out new brands of shoes, in the hope to find something stylish, comfortable and well padded.
I already knew that I can't wear Comme il Faut, because I have wide feet and high arches, and the Comme il Fauts feel as if half of my arch is hanging outside of the sole. So I didn't even bother.
I used to wear Neo Tango (Sarmiento 1938), which are wide enough for me, but in recent years their quality has gone down so much that I don't want to buy them anymore. I had to hammer flat the insole of the last pair I bought from them, because after a few months, it crunched up to build a little ball, that was hurting the bottom of my foot. I still went to the store and I tried on a few pairs, but didn't find them comfortable or padded enough.
From there to Raquel (Bolivar 554). I had seen the shoes during the "Ladies Festival" and spoken to what seemed to be the owner of the store - she kept saying that 'she' can make this or that change for me. The story was somewhat different when I went to the store, where I encountered only a slightly overworked saleswoman, who didn't even mention that any changes can be made at all. With some decisions I need help and if the salesperson had offered it, I would have probably bought shoes, since I liked how padded but flexible they were. I walked out empty-handed but I will go back next time.
After that I went to the Greta Flora's store in Palermo (Francisco Acuña de Figueroa 1612). There are two Greta Floras in town, but only the one in Palermo has tango shoes. I tried on quite some shoes that looked almost the same, but feel quite different due to the various types of leather, of which they are made. I managed to pick a pair of super low heels - my guess is that they are 5cm. I had never worn such a low heel, but the shoes turned out to be extremely comfortable. This was in March. Now, in November, I went and bought a different style of Greta Floras, also with a low heel. I found them super pretty, even though they were more closed on the front, than I usually wear, and with a closed back. So I wore them at the milonga the same night… Well, turns out that they are made for narrower feet, and since I had to get a bigger size than I usually wear, in order to fit in them comfortably, once I started dancing my feet started moving a little within the shoes, and getting scraped. By the end of the night I had blood in one shoe. With the expectation of mighty resistance, the next day I went to return the shoes. You should have seen my jaw dropping, when the sales associate didn't fight me, brought the shoes to her boss in the back room, and turned back a minute later saying that I can either pick another pair of shoes, or they can try to pad these for me, so that they don't scrape. They didn't have the type of low heel shoes that I wanted, so I ended up picking a pair, like the one I got in March, but with a 7cm heel. Still super comfortable.
Next on the list was Soy Porteña (Juan Domingo Perón 1610, Apt 5B). I have 2 pairs of their shoes - identical style and color but different hight heels - 9cm and 10cm. I really like the fit, since they are clearly made for wide feet, like mine. What I don't like is that a) they got beaten up very quickly - the silver got rubbed off within few months and now they look rather brownish -, and b) that they have no padding whatsoever. And I mean NON! After a week of dancing in them I put in one silicon insole, few months later I had to add a second one in an attempt to survive in them for 3-4 hours. Sadly, adding a second insole didn't work out, because I loose any grounding perched on top of 2 layers of insoles. I might bring them back here next time, and check if I can get a good insole built in. If not, I'll throw them away.
After Soy Porteña I went to Souple (Paraná 348, 2nd floor). They had styles that I liked and the shoes are very well padded. The saleswoman was not too happy that I wanted to try different styles in different sizes, and kept pushing me to buy shoes one size too small for me, with the explanation that I should try harder to push my foot into a shoe, in which there was not enough space for even 4 of my toes… So much about Cinderella, or at least her sister… After I got annoyed and said: "No! I am not doing this! I've been buying tango shoes for 13 years and know what fits me well!", she asked me if I were Russian, and even though I said "No" she became friendlier and more accommodating. Go figure! I was trying to decide between two gorgeous pairs - one tan colored and one orange. She pointed out that the tan colored ones get dirty really easily, so I picked the orange ones, and I've been in love with them for the last few months.
Next stop - Flabella (Suipacha 263). Here I had the same experience like last time - many salespeople, few clients and yet a very, very, very long waiting time. You can see the shoes only in the window display, which means that you have to go out with the sales person and point to the many pairs, and hope that she understands what you want. After spending over an hour there, torturing and getting tortured by the sales woman, she gave up and brought me all the shoes she had in my size. What can I say? Shoes only borderline stylish, and a saleswomen who keeps repeating how good they look on your feet - even the ugliest ones. My first two pairs of shoes from 13 years ago were Flabellas and I remember them being very comfortable. I wish shopping in this store was easier, and may be I would have given them another chance.
A year and a half ago I bought three pairs of Alanis shoes. They used to have a store in Palermo, which it is closed now. If they are still in business, they should be in the central store (Diagonal Norte 936), which was quite busy and the sales person stressed out. I don't like most of their styles, since they are angular on the front, and even though I managed to find shoes that I like, I now regret having bought them. Even the leather strap that holds my heel in place stretched on one pair, and now I can't wear them because the shoes hang loose off my foot. The other huts the nail bed of my big toe. In order to wear them I would need to have the placing of all straps, that cover the toes, changed… I got a lot of use only of the one pair that was custom made for me. I wouldn't buy them again, but I did get to wear them for a while. One of the heels did break off after I moon-walked in them, but I guess that's OK. :)
As I mentioned earlier, one particularity about my feet is that I have a very high arch, and that's why need insoles in most shoes. I have one pair of Artisenal shoes, which I never wear, because even with an insole, my arch doesn't manage to touch the bottom of the shoe… So far the only shoes that I have, that don't require insoles AND are still comfortable, are the Souple and the Greta Flora.
I also have one pair of DNI shoes (Bulnes 1011). Because of the placement of the straps, I had to buy a whole size bigger pair and then bring them to a shoe maker to cut the front. After that I had the soles changed, since it was rubber!!! I wouldn't buy them again, first because I had to spend too much money of fixing them to my foot, and second because now, with the chrome leather sole, they are even less flexible and I fee as if I am dancing inside the shoes, instead of with the shoes.
When I was in Buenos Aires in March 2013 I went shoe shopping. And I hate shopping. Period. Yet I had to comb the city, since I was looking to try out new brands of shoes, in the hope to find something stylish, comfortable and well padded.
I already knew that I can't wear Comme il Faut, because I have wide feet and high arches, and the Comme il Fauts feel as if half of my arch is hanging outside of the sole. So I didn't even bother.
I used to wear Neo Tango (Sarmiento 1938), which are wide enough for me, but in recent years their quality has gone down so much that I don't want to buy them anymore. I had to hammer flat the insole of the last pair I bought from them, because after a few months, it crunched up to build a little ball, that was hurting the bottom of my foot. I still went to the store and I tried on a few pairs, but didn't find them comfortable or padded enough.
From there to Raquel (Bolivar 554). I had seen the shoes during the "Ladies Festival" and spoken to what seemed to be the owner of the store - she kept saying that 'she' can make this or that change for me. The story was somewhat different when I went to the store, where I encountered only a slightly overworked saleswoman, who didn't even mention that any changes can be made at all. With some decisions I need help and if the salesperson had offered it, I would have probably bought shoes, since I liked how padded but flexible they were. I walked out empty-handed but I will go back next time.
After that I went to the Greta Flora's store in Palermo (Francisco Acuña de Figueroa 1612). There are two Greta Floras in town, but only the one in Palermo has tango shoes. I tried on quite some shoes that looked almost the same, but feel quite different due to the various types of leather, of which they are made. I managed to pick a pair of super low heels - my guess is that they are 5cm. I had never worn such a low heel, but the shoes turned out to be extremely comfortable. This was in March. Now, in November, I went and bought a different style of Greta Floras, also with a low heel. I found them super pretty, even though they were more closed on the front, than I usually wear, and with a closed back. So I wore them at the milonga the same night… Well, turns out that they are made for narrower feet, and since I had to get a bigger size than I usually wear, in order to fit in them comfortably, once I started dancing my feet started moving a little within the shoes, and getting scraped. By the end of the night I had blood in one shoe. With the expectation of mighty resistance, the next day I went to return the shoes. You should have seen my jaw dropping, when the sales associate didn't fight me, brought the shoes to her boss in the back room, and turned back a minute later saying that I can either pick another pair of shoes, or they can try to pad these for me, so that they don't scrape. They didn't have the type of low heel shoes that I wanted, so I ended up picking a pair, like the one I got in March, but with a 7cm heel. Still super comfortable.
Next on the list was Soy Porteña (Juan Domingo Perón 1610, Apt 5B). I have 2 pairs of their shoes - identical style and color but different hight heels - 9cm and 10cm. I really like the fit, since they are clearly made for wide feet, like mine. What I don't like is that a) they got beaten up very quickly - the silver got rubbed off within few months and now they look rather brownish -, and b) that they have no padding whatsoever. And I mean NON! After a week of dancing in them I put in one silicon insole, few months later I had to add a second one in an attempt to survive in them for 3-4 hours. Sadly, adding a second insole didn't work out, because I loose any grounding perched on top of 2 layers of insoles. I might bring them back here next time, and check if I can get a good insole built in. If not, I'll throw them away.
After Soy Porteña I went to Souple (Paraná 348, 2nd floor). They had styles that I liked and the shoes are very well padded. The saleswoman was not too happy that I wanted to try different styles in different sizes, and kept pushing me to buy shoes one size too small for me, with the explanation that I should try harder to push my foot into a shoe, in which there was not enough space for even 4 of my toes… So much about Cinderella, or at least her sister… After I got annoyed and said: "No! I am not doing this! I've been buying tango shoes for 13 years and know what fits me well!", she asked me if I were Russian, and even though I said "No" she became friendlier and more accommodating. Go figure! I was trying to decide between two gorgeous pairs - one tan colored and one orange. She pointed out that the tan colored ones get dirty really easily, so I picked the orange ones, and I've been in love with them for the last few months.
Next stop - Flabella (Suipacha 263). Here I had the same experience like last time - many salespeople, few clients and yet a very, very, very long waiting time. You can see the shoes only in the window display, which means that you have to go out with the sales person and point to the many pairs, and hope that she understands what you want. After spending over an hour there, torturing and getting tortured by the sales woman, she gave up and brought me all the shoes she had in my size. What can I say? Shoes only borderline stylish, and a saleswomen who keeps repeating how good they look on your feet - even the ugliest ones. My first two pairs of shoes from 13 years ago were Flabellas and I remember them being very comfortable. I wish shopping in this store was easier, and may be I would have given them another chance.
A year and a half ago I bought three pairs of Alanis shoes. They used to have a store in Palermo, which it is closed now. If they are still in business, they should be in the central store (Diagonal Norte 936), which was quite busy and the sales person stressed out. I don't like most of their styles, since they are angular on the front, and even though I managed to find shoes that I like, I now regret having bought them. Even the leather strap that holds my heel in place stretched on one pair, and now I can't wear them because the shoes hang loose off my foot. The other huts the nail bed of my big toe. In order to wear them I would need to have the placing of all straps, that cover the toes, changed… I got a lot of use only of the one pair that was custom made for me. I wouldn't buy them again, but I did get to wear them for a while. One of the heels did break off after I moon-walked in them, but I guess that's OK. :)
As I mentioned earlier, one particularity about my feet is that I have a very high arch, and that's why need insoles in most shoes. I have one pair of Artisenal shoes, which I never wear, because even with an insole, my arch doesn't manage to touch the bottom of the shoe… So far the only shoes that I have, that don't require insoles AND are still comfortable, are the Souple and the Greta Flora.
I also have one pair of DNI shoes (Bulnes 1011). Because of the placement of the straps, I had to buy a whole size bigger pair and then bring them to a shoe maker to cut the front. After that I had the soles changed, since it was rubber!!! I wouldn't buy them again, first because I had to spend too much money of fixing them to my foot, and second because now, with the chrome leather sole, they are even less flexible and I fee as if I am dancing inside the shoes, instead of with the shoes.
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
The tango skill building
To me assessing the skill level of better tango dancers feels like looking up a building. May be you can see the difference in the make of the details a few floors above you, but you certainly can't see them 10 or 20 stories higher. On the other hand, you can clearly recognize every floor below you, since you've been there, you've walked it, and you've inspected it for a while. I have examined many floors in the 13.5 years of dancing tango only. I've tried out many things that didn't work out. I've taken classes with many teachers or refused to take classes, out of stupidity, ego, or because I knew better. I've bumped into many teachers who had a whole lot to give me, but either weren't saying the words that I was ready to hear at that moment, or were thinking about the dance in a too different way, or I couldn't connect what they were saying to what I was doing, and so I ended up not learning much from them. Nevertheless, I kept little boxes of knowledge from most of them, even though for many years those boxed were completely useless to me. But as I keep changing my dancing and discovering more things, I am finding myself understanding the knowledge from some of those boxes. I consider myself an autodidact for the most part, since for the above mentioned reasons I keep reinventing the wheel. I recognize only two of the many people with whom I studied as my mentors: Constanin Rueger - my first teacher, from whom I learned most of what I knew about tango for the first few years, and from whom I learned how to teach; and since last year - Horacio Godoy. May be, if in the interim I had found a teacher to suit my needs, I would have gotten all the information I need from her, and would have progressed much faster…, but even so, I am happy things worked out the way they did, because, since I am a teacher, I had to think about every single aspect of what I do and examine every single floor of that building with a magnifying class, and that sometimes even more than once.
In this blog I want to talk about followers, even though the same applies for leads, but it will be a mess to switch back and forth talking about the two.
Back to our building. For a while, when one sees better dancers one immediately recognizes the external differences - she does more steps than me, her boleos are higher, she embellishes better. (After a 1.5 years of dancing I couldn't for the life of me see any further differences between myself and the best dancer in Berlin, who had been dancing for 11 years at that time.) Later, as one keeps moving up the building, one starts paying attention to the ease with which those elements get executed, how stable and smooth the movements are, and how everything seems to end just where it needs to be - precision. Much, much, much later, I started being able to see how a great follower would express the music with her body. How the way she steps or embellishes reflects what she hears in the music. Sometimes, seldom, I can even see the tension and relaxation in her body. If I pay a lot of attention I can see the subtleness or her movements: how small of a signal with provoke a reaction; how perfectly she would absorb the energy to express a soft note; how the duration of her boleo will be perfectly timed to hit a certain something in the music; and how her leg will hover in the air, if the music "holds its breath"...
And then there is the whole universe of subtlety that we don't see. Has it happen to you to watch a couple dance, and she's obviously a good dancer, but you don't see anything so special about the ways she moves, that might explain why the guy dances the 10th tandas with her, or why he seems mesmerized? May be it was due to my limited talent or lessons, that it took 13 years and Horacio Godoy for me to be able to understand… But what I learned from him was that I shouldn't be able to see what enchants the lead?!?! If it's visible, it's too much. What it is, is a subtlety in the way one uses their body and hears the music - the way one breathes…, the way one can isolate and engage different muscles…, the way one can pick a note or two to skip or throw into the dance…, the way one is responsible for their own movement and can make suggestions, while melting into the music and the partner… Now I know that the only way to know this subtlety is to experience it. And experience it, when one is ready for it. After 13 years of dancing tango, Horacio told me in a private: "You should know you are good, since I am not working on walking with you." Really??? That's how "good" I am?!? And yet, he was right. If he had had to work with me on the mechanics of walking, instead of the expression of walking, I would have never been able to tap into that pool of subtlety, because I wouldn't have been ready. If he hadn't felt that I have explored all the floors I talked about, he would have known that I can't relax and submerge myself into the world of subtlety… But now I'm here - eyes wide open for the invisible, I am ready to explore the next floor! And I'm so excited about the marvels that the higher floors, which I can't even see yet, will bring.
To me assessing the skill level of better tango dancers feels like looking up a building. May be you can see the difference in the make of the details a few floors above you, but you certainly can't see them 10 or 20 stories higher. On the other hand, you can clearly recognize every floor below you, since you've been there, you've walked it, and you've inspected it for a while. I have examined many floors in the 13.5 years of dancing tango only. I've tried out many things that didn't work out. I've taken classes with many teachers or refused to take classes, out of stupidity, ego, or because I knew better. I've bumped into many teachers who had a whole lot to give me, but either weren't saying the words that I was ready to hear at that moment, or were thinking about the dance in a too different way, or I couldn't connect what they were saying to what I was doing, and so I ended up not learning much from them. Nevertheless, I kept little boxes of knowledge from most of them, even though for many years those boxed were completely useless to me. But as I keep changing my dancing and discovering more things, I am finding myself understanding the knowledge from some of those boxes. I consider myself an autodidact for the most part, since for the above mentioned reasons I keep reinventing the wheel. I recognize only two of the many people with whom I studied as my mentors: Constanin Rueger - my first teacher, from whom I learned most of what I knew about tango for the first few years, and from whom I learned how to teach; and since last year - Horacio Godoy. May be, if in the interim I had found a teacher to suit my needs, I would have gotten all the information I need from her, and would have progressed much faster…, but even so, I am happy things worked out the way they did, because, since I am a teacher, I had to think about every single aspect of what I do and examine every single floor of that building with a magnifying class, and that sometimes even more than once.
In this blog I want to talk about followers, even though the same applies for leads, but it will be a mess to switch back and forth talking about the two.
Back to our building. For a while, when one sees better dancers one immediately recognizes the external differences - she does more steps than me, her boleos are higher, she embellishes better. (After a 1.5 years of dancing I couldn't for the life of me see any further differences between myself and the best dancer in Berlin, who had been dancing for 11 years at that time.) Later, as one keeps moving up the building, one starts paying attention to the ease with which those elements get executed, how stable and smooth the movements are, and how everything seems to end just where it needs to be - precision. Much, much, much later, I started being able to see how a great follower would express the music with her body. How the way she steps or embellishes reflects what she hears in the music. Sometimes, seldom, I can even see the tension and relaxation in her body. If I pay a lot of attention I can see the subtleness or her movements: how small of a signal with provoke a reaction; how perfectly she would absorb the energy to express a soft note; how the duration of her boleo will be perfectly timed to hit a certain something in the music; and how her leg will hover in the air, if the music "holds its breath"...
And then there is the whole universe of subtlety that we don't see. Has it happen to you to watch a couple dance, and she's obviously a good dancer, but you don't see anything so special about the ways she moves, that might explain why the guy dances the 10th tandas with her, or why he seems mesmerized? May be it was due to my limited talent or lessons, that it took 13 years and Horacio Godoy for me to be able to understand… But what I learned from him was that I shouldn't be able to see what enchants the lead?!?! If it's visible, it's too much. What it is, is a subtlety in the way one uses their body and hears the music - the way one breathes…, the way one can isolate and engage different muscles…, the way one can pick a note or two to skip or throw into the dance…, the way one is responsible for their own movement and can make suggestions, while melting into the music and the partner… Now I know that the only way to know this subtlety is to experience it. And experience it, when one is ready for it. After 13 years of dancing tango, Horacio told me in a private: "You should know you are good, since I am not working on walking with you." Really??? That's how "good" I am?!? And yet, he was right. If he had had to work with me on the mechanics of walking, instead of the expression of walking, I would have never been able to tap into that pool of subtlety, because I wouldn't have been ready. If he hadn't felt that I have explored all the floors I talked about, he would have known that I can't relax and submerge myself into the world of subtlety… But now I'm here - eyes wide open for the invisible, I am ready to explore the next floor! And I'm so excited about the marvels that the higher floors, which I can't even see yet, will bring.
Sunday, June 23, 2013
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Saturday, June 15, 2013
"Mi Buenos Aires Querido"
In March of 2012 I went to BA for the first time. When I came back I was asked to write an article about it for a blog called "The delicate strength". I don't know if that blog is still around and how long it might exist, that's why I decided to publish the article on my blog too.
Buenos Aires Trip 2012, Part 5
Somebody had warned me that the cleaning lady in their apartment stole some valuables. For that reason I had tortured the landlord with questions about the trustworthiness of their cleaning lady. He assured me that I shouldn't worry about that at all, which turned out to be true. What I should have worried about was the quality of her work. The dirt redistribution on the apartment floor, the unchanged sliminess of the bathroom tiles and the unchallenged dirt on the counter tops made me think that she probably understood her job as the attempt to make things somewhat less dirty instead of really clean. Needless to say that I wasn't happy with her. And yet this wasn't even what really upset me about here presence in the apartment. My distress was caused much more by the fact that she let her 2-year-old son, with a lollipop in his hand, to roam our apartment and touch everything with his sticky hands. After they were gone I discovered that he had left me that same lollipop as a present in a pile of my pills, cellphone and foot products, after clearly playing with them first… Luckily for all participants the week after we had another cleaning lady, who did an excellent job.
You know how they say that trouble never comes alone? Well, on the same day when I discovered the previously mentioned Catch 22 situation with the phone card and found the present left for me by the son of the cleaning lady I had one more trouble, this time at the laundromat. Fairly close to where we lived there were many laundromats. At the one closest to our apartment the clients were not allowed to do their own laundry. For the price of 20 pesos (about $5) per bin of clothes the people at the laundromat wash, dry and fold your clothes for you, which is not bad. What was bad was that they shamelessly charged me 50 pesos at pick up although in a week my dancing partner and I had managed to fill up only 2 bins. Since this was the last straw after all the difficulties of the day I didn't feel like arguing about what's wrong with the math 20+20=50. The next day I returned to the laundromat in a search of a green, lace top, which I thought had gotten lost there and which I wanted to wear at the milonga. "No," said the woman, "we don't have your top… But we have a forgotten batman T-shit… Do you want it instead? :)" Oh Batman, Batman, how elegantly we would have looked at the milonga: me - in a skirt and high heels, you - plastered all over my oversized, dorky T-shirt…!
After I managed to understand the description of services a laundromat offers, and quarrel with the phone company about band widths and refunds, I gotta tell you - understanding people tuned out to be no problem for me. I am pretty fluent in Spanish (but you know - what the porteños speak is not always Spanish) and even if I didn't understand or manage to say everything the way I intended, I found a way to work around it. The only thing that I still don't know is what were some of the veggies in the empanadas I was eating. Although, honestly, I didn't care too much. All I know is that they were good! :) Speaking of empanadas - if you don't like the ones at your closest bakery, try the ones at the next - all bakeries and all pizza places have empanadas and the quality varies a lot. Also, turns out that restaurants usually don't sell empanadas. Go figure. By the way, while I'm still more or less on the topic of languages - even if you don't speak Spanish you have little to worry about. In the milonga, since you will be cabeceo-ing people, you don't need to speak English. In the stores they sometimes speak English but even if they don't often common sense is enough when picking what to buy. In the classes the teachers explain sometimes only and sometimes mostly in Spanish. But even in the second case you won't get very detailed translation. You should keep your eyes open in order to catch what's going on from what the teacher is showing. In the end many of the young Argentines can say at least a couple of words in English and some speak actually quite well if not fluently.
In March of 2012 I went to BA for the first time. When I came back I was asked to write an article about it for a blog called "The delicate strength". I don't know if that blog is still around and how long it might exist, that's why I decided to publish the article on my blog too.
Buenos Aires Trip 2012, Part 5
Somebody had warned me that the cleaning lady in their apartment stole some valuables. For that reason I had tortured the landlord with questions about the trustworthiness of their cleaning lady. He assured me that I shouldn't worry about that at all, which turned out to be true. What I should have worried about was the quality of her work. The dirt redistribution on the apartment floor, the unchanged sliminess of the bathroom tiles and the unchallenged dirt on the counter tops made me think that she probably understood her job as the attempt to make things somewhat less dirty instead of really clean. Needless to say that I wasn't happy with her. And yet this wasn't even what really upset me about here presence in the apartment. My distress was caused much more by the fact that she let her 2-year-old son, with a lollipop in his hand, to roam our apartment and touch everything with his sticky hands. After they were gone I discovered that he had left me that same lollipop as a present in a pile of my pills, cellphone and foot products, after clearly playing with them first… Luckily for all participants the week after we had another cleaning lady, who did an excellent job.
You know how they say that trouble never comes alone? Well, on the same day when I discovered the previously mentioned Catch 22 situation with the phone card and found the present left for me by the son of the cleaning lady I had one more trouble, this time at the laundromat. Fairly close to where we lived there were many laundromats. At the one closest to our apartment the clients were not allowed to do their own laundry. For the price of 20 pesos (about $5) per bin of clothes the people at the laundromat wash, dry and fold your clothes for you, which is not bad. What was bad was that they shamelessly charged me 50 pesos at pick up although in a week my dancing partner and I had managed to fill up only 2 bins. Since this was the last straw after all the difficulties of the day I didn't feel like arguing about what's wrong with the math 20+20=50. The next day I returned to the laundromat in a search of a green, lace top, which I thought had gotten lost there and which I wanted to wear at the milonga. "No," said the woman, "we don't have your top… But we have a forgotten batman T-shit… Do you want it instead? :)" Oh Batman, Batman, how elegantly we would have looked at the milonga: me - in a skirt and high heels, you - plastered all over my oversized, dorky T-shirt…!
After I managed to understand the description of services a laundromat offers, and quarrel with the phone company about band widths and refunds, I gotta tell you - understanding people tuned out to be no problem for me. I am pretty fluent in Spanish (but you know - what the porteños speak is not always Spanish) and even if I didn't understand or manage to say everything the way I intended, I found a way to work around it. The only thing that I still don't know is what were some of the veggies in the empanadas I was eating. Although, honestly, I didn't care too much. All I know is that they were good! :) Speaking of empanadas - if you don't like the ones at your closest bakery, try the ones at the next - all bakeries and all pizza places have empanadas and the quality varies a lot. Also, turns out that restaurants usually don't sell empanadas. Go figure. By the way, while I'm still more or less on the topic of languages - even if you don't speak Spanish you have little to worry about. In the milonga, since you will be cabeceo-ing people, you don't need to speak English. In the stores they sometimes speak English but even if they don't often common sense is enough when picking what to buy. In the classes the teachers explain sometimes only and sometimes mostly in Spanish. But even in the second case you won't get very detailed translation. You should keep your eyes open in order to catch what's going on from what the teacher is showing. In the end many of the young Argentines can say at least a couple of words in English and some speak actually quite well if not fluently.
Thursday, June 13, 2013
"Mi Buenos Aires Querido"
In March of 2012 I went to BA for the first time. When I came back I was asked to write an article about it for a blog called "The delicate strength". I don't know if that blog is still around and how long it might exist, that's why I decided to publish the article on my blog too.
Buenos Aires Trip 2012, Part 4
So often I would ask girls where they bought some great looking tango clothes and almost always the answer would be "In BA". That's why I took two suitcases, filled up the small one and put it in the big one for my flight down. The sweet anticipation of the fabulous clothes and shoes I would buy quickly got substituted for the frustration of not finding any clothes that I like and only uncomfortable or/and ugly shoes. Needless to say that one of my suitcases travelled back empty. I wasn't really desperate to buy clothes but certainly in more than dire need for shoes, so I ended up buying only one T-shirt, which I can't even wear to the milonga, a pair of white lead's shoes from a company called Tango Leike (they are super light and comfy), 4 pairs of follower's shoes from Alanis and 1 pair from Artisenal. Just to clarify, gentlemen - with those 5 new pairs of follower's shoes now I own a proud total of 9 pairs. And I call myself a professional dancer… Anyway, I had never heard of Alanis or Artisenal before. Years ago I started off with Flabella and then moved on to Neo Tango, but since the quality of the Neo Tango shoes dropped so much I decided to switch again. My first impulse was to go and check out Flabella, since I remember liking their quality. The sales representatives there seemed to live in some parallel universe where there are no clients waiting in front of their eyes. The 3 sales women extensively chatted with each other after which one sat down to chill and stare out of the window while I was waiting for somebody to end up paying attention to me. The other client had already gotten some shoes and was trying them on. Turns out that Flabella has some nice designs for small feet but for my "huge" size 9 feet they had only some quite unappealing styles. Same with Tango Leike. Comme il Faut was out of question anyway since they have never been comfortable to me. Artisenal has custom made shoes but they also sell pre-made shoes. The pair that I bought would have been really comfortable if there wasn't a two-finger-wide gap between my arch and the sole of the shoe. Same applies to the Alanis shoes that I bought. Alanis makes shoes in regular width and in wide, which I liked. They produce a batch of shoes and when they sell them out they don't make more in the same colors. On one hand this means that there won't be too many girls out there with exactly the same shoes but on the other hand makes shopping a little more difficult since they always need to check if they have your size in the style and color you like. The internet shows only one Alanis store but they actually have two locations. The one I liked, in Palermo, is not on the internet and since it's quite hidden and not very busy Carmelo, the sales representative, does a great job being super attentive and helpful. Their shoes are soft and well padded, although the longer I wear them the more I have the feeling that the padding is getting compressed and rather useless. In all shoe stores it was definitely best to pay in dollars, as it was in most other stores too actually. In the majority of the shoe places they had additional discounts if one paid cash or in dollars. I hear that things change all the time but for me it made most sense to bring dollars to Argentina and either exchange them there for a much better rate than I got in New York, or just pay in dollars. The stores were offering the best exchange rates of all in order to entice you to pay in foreign currency. The way I see it is that right now the Argentines don't have much trust in the banks AND in the strength of their currency, that's why they prefer real pieces of paper with dollar or euro signs on them instead of electronic numbers in their bank account, or very real but highly inflational pesos. By the way, did you know that the symbol for the Argentinian peso is exactly the same as for the US dollar? I didn't, so when I saw the price of the car service being $200 I think I choked. They sometimes specify AR$ versus US$.
In Argentina you often need to leave some extra time for things to get done. Like one porteño said: "Here there is a line for everything." At first I didn't feel that. On the way to BA the procedures at the airport went fast and I got to the apartment 1.5 hours after I landed. For that on the way back I had to spend 2.5 hours at the airport itself waiting on 4 consecutive lines. In the end saw myself forced to cut the last line and run to the gate in order get on the plane 10 min before the door closes and I would miss the flight. The other time when I really felt it was when I went to the company "Personal" to buy a phone card. If you ever need a phone card go to "Claro" or may be one of the other providers, but never to "Personal". At the "Personal" store my dancing partner and I had to wait 20 min for the "receptionist" to ask us why we were there and take the data from our passports. (Yes, you need to bring a passport if you want to buy a phone card.) Then we sat down and waited for almost a whole hour for the 3 people in front of us to get taken care of by the 4 employees in the store. When we finally sat down in front of a representative the information field on her computer was showing that we were being "helped" for 20 min already, while we were stunned with the info that they are currently out of phone cards. No arguing that the receptionist told us that they have them could make one magically appear or undo all the waiting. Sadly. What I also learned from the continuation of this experience was that an Argentine phone card does not work in an European phone. But the phone company won't tell you that. Or at least not at the moment of you buying the card. Then, once you have it and want to return it you find yourself in a Catch 22 situation from which you can come out only in two ways - either with a phone purchased from the company who sold you the phone card, in which phone that card will work; or if you don't want to buy a phone - with the same Argentinian phone card, which is yours to keep just like the money you paid for it is theirs to keep.
In March of 2012 I went to BA for the first time. When I came back I was asked to write an article about it for a blog called "The delicate strength". I don't know if that blog is still around and how long it might exist, that's why I decided to publish the article on my blog too.
Buenos Aires Trip 2012, Part 4
So often I would ask girls where they bought some great looking tango clothes and almost always the answer would be "In BA". That's why I took two suitcases, filled up the small one and put it in the big one for my flight down. The sweet anticipation of the fabulous clothes and shoes I would buy quickly got substituted for the frustration of not finding any clothes that I like and only uncomfortable or/and ugly shoes. Needless to say that one of my suitcases travelled back empty. I wasn't really desperate to buy clothes but certainly in more than dire need for shoes, so I ended up buying only one T-shirt, which I can't even wear to the milonga, a pair of white lead's shoes from a company called Tango Leike (they are super light and comfy), 4 pairs of follower's shoes from Alanis and 1 pair from Artisenal. Just to clarify, gentlemen - with those 5 new pairs of follower's shoes now I own a proud total of 9 pairs. And I call myself a professional dancer… Anyway, I had never heard of Alanis or Artisenal before. Years ago I started off with Flabella and then moved on to Neo Tango, but since the quality of the Neo Tango shoes dropped so much I decided to switch again. My first impulse was to go and check out Flabella, since I remember liking their quality. The sales representatives there seemed to live in some parallel universe where there are no clients waiting in front of their eyes. The 3 sales women extensively chatted with each other after which one sat down to chill and stare out of the window while I was waiting for somebody to end up paying attention to me. The other client had already gotten some shoes and was trying them on. Turns out that Flabella has some nice designs for small feet but for my "huge" size 9 feet they had only some quite unappealing styles. Same with Tango Leike. Comme il Faut was out of question anyway since they have never been comfortable to me. Artisenal has custom made shoes but they also sell pre-made shoes. The pair that I bought would have been really comfortable if there wasn't a two-finger-wide gap between my arch and the sole of the shoe. Same applies to the Alanis shoes that I bought. Alanis makes shoes in regular width and in wide, which I liked. They produce a batch of shoes and when they sell them out they don't make more in the same colors. On one hand this means that there won't be too many girls out there with exactly the same shoes but on the other hand makes shopping a little more difficult since they always need to check if they have your size in the style and color you like. The internet shows only one Alanis store but they actually have two locations. The one I liked, in Palermo, is not on the internet and since it's quite hidden and not very busy Carmelo, the sales representative, does a great job being super attentive and helpful. Their shoes are soft and well padded, although the longer I wear them the more I have the feeling that the padding is getting compressed and rather useless. In all shoe stores it was definitely best to pay in dollars, as it was in most other stores too actually. In the majority of the shoe places they had additional discounts if one paid cash or in dollars. I hear that things change all the time but for me it made most sense to bring dollars to Argentina and either exchange them there for a much better rate than I got in New York, or just pay in dollars. The stores were offering the best exchange rates of all in order to entice you to pay in foreign currency. The way I see it is that right now the Argentines don't have much trust in the banks AND in the strength of their currency, that's why they prefer real pieces of paper with dollar or euro signs on them instead of electronic numbers in their bank account, or very real but highly inflational pesos. By the way, did you know that the symbol for the Argentinian peso is exactly the same as for the US dollar? I didn't, so when I saw the price of the car service being $200 I think I choked. They sometimes specify AR$ versus US$.
In Argentina you often need to leave some extra time for things to get done. Like one porteño said: "Here there is a line for everything." At first I didn't feel that. On the way to BA the procedures at the airport went fast and I got to the apartment 1.5 hours after I landed. For that on the way back I had to spend 2.5 hours at the airport itself waiting on 4 consecutive lines. In the end saw myself forced to cut the last line and run to the gate in order get on the plane 10 min before the door closes and I would miss the flight. The other time when I really felt it was when I went to the company "Personal" to buy a phone card. If you ever need a phone card go to "Claro" or may be one of the other providers, but never to "Personal". At the "Personal" store my dancing partner and I had to wait 20 min for the "receptionist" to ask us why we were there and take the data from our passports. (Yes, you need to bring a passport if you want to buy a phone card.) Then we sat down and waited for almost a whole hour for the 3 people in front of us to get taken care of by the 4 employees in the store. When we finally sat down in front of a representative the information field on her computer was showing that we were being "helped" for 20 min already, while we were stunned with the info that they are currently out of phone cards. No arguing that the receptionist told us that they have them could make one magically appear or undo all the waiting. Sadly. What I also learned from the continuation of this experience was that an Argentine phone card does not work in an European phone. But the phone company won't tell you that. Or at least not at the moment of you buying the card. Then, once you have it and want to return it you find yourself in a Catch 22 situation from which you can come out only in two ways - either with a phone purchased from the company who sold you the phone card, in which phone that card will work; or if you don't want to buy a phone - with the same Argentinian phone card, which is yours to keep just like the money you paid for it is theirs to keep.
Saturday, June 1, 2013
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"Mi Buenos Aires Querido"
In March of 2012 I went to BA for the first time. When I came back I was asked to write an article about it for a blog called "The delicate strength". I don't know if that blog is still around and how long it might exist, that's why I decided to publish the article on my blog too.
Buenos Aires Trip 2012, Part 3
After seeing a little of it I have to say: Buenos Aires is beautiful! It reminds me of Sofia (Bulgaria) in the late 1990s: the houses are a little run down but not too much; the majority of the cars on the streets are from the mid-nineties and some even from the eighties; there must be rich people in BA because they have some quite expensive stores but I didn't see any ostentatious locals; people know how to enjoy life, take the time to do so and take pride in doing it; most people seem to be still equally poor and mostly the young people spend a lot of time socializing on the streets. In BA young people sit in the middle of the sidewalk, sometimes even on a cushion, especially brought for that purpose, and drink mate or alcohol. Once I saw two guys spread on the sidewalk, having a drink and listening to the music, which played from the open window of the car next to them… So romantic, relaxed and charming. That's BA! To me it felt like a journey back in time to the years before I left Bulgaria.
As you can imagine, a lot of the social life in BA happens on the streets. In Palermo for example there are ALWAYS people out. In 3 weeks not even once was I alone on the street at night and that regardless if I was going to the first milonga, moving to the second around 3am or leaving it between 4 and 6am. It's a southern culture, which means that they start gathering in the cafés and bars around 7pm and the later it gets, the fuller those get. I think that the peak "social time" is between 11pm and 12am. Some of the local bars were open as late as 3am and always full of people, sitting at the outside tables. I am sure that part of it was due to the fabulous weather we had. In March - the end of their summer - both the temperature and the humidity are lower than in the peek of the summer, although we still appreciated having an air conditioner in the apartment (and that even though I don't like ACs and hardly ever use one).
When you start packing for BA keep in mind that the milongas often don't have an AC and usually only an insufficient number of fans. At 70-75F outside temperature this meant that even somebody like me who hardly sweats is well moist after a single tanda. After 2-3 tandas one is drenched in sweat, sticky and with little chance of drying out. No wonder the porteñas dance in shorts or mini skirts! Seldom in my life have I been so grateful for a shower as I was after a class followed by a night in the milongas. Probably at really traditional milongas one would need to dress up properly but at the younger milongas everyone wears whatever they want. At the same milonga you can see people in evening dresses or suits, in cargo pants, in shorts, or even in tiny, short dresses which show most of the bra. I guess anything goes as long as it helps you combat the heat and humidity in the milonga. Already the first couple of nights helped me understand why Argentine tango dancers put so much product in their hair to sleek it back. Well, without clips or gel in my hair after an hour of dancing I looked like a dandelion, and I don't mean the cute yellow ones but the big, puffy, white ones from the end of the summer!
In March of 2012 I went to BA for the first time. When I came back I was asked to write an article about it for a blog called "The delicate strength". I don't know if that blog is still around and how long it might exist, that's why I decided to publish the article on my blog too.
Buenos Aires Trip 2012, Part 3
After seeing a little of it I have to say: Buenos Aires is beautiful! It reminds me of Sofia (Bulgaria) in the late 1990s: the houses are a little run down but not too much; the majority of the cars on the streets are from the mid-nineties and some even from the eighties; there must be rich people in BA because they have some quite expensive stores but I didn't see any ostentatious locals; people know how to enjoy life, take the time to do so and take pride in doing it; most people seem to be still equally poor and mostly the young people spend a lot of time socializing on the streets. In BA young people sit in the middle of the sidewalk, sometimes even on a cushion, especially brought for that purpose, and drink mate or alcohol. Once I saw two guys spread on the sidewalk, having a drink and listening to the music, which played from the open window of the car next to them… So romantic, relaxed and charming. That's BA! To me it felt like a journey back in time to the years before I left Bulgaria.
As you can imagine, a lot of the social life in BA happens on the streets. In Palermo for example there are ALWAYS people out. In 3 weeks not even once was I alone on the street at night and that regardless if I was going to the first milonga, moving to the second around 3am or leaving it between 4 and 6am. It's a southern culture, which means that they start gathering in the cafés and bars around 7pm and the later it gets, the fuller those get. I think that the peak "social time" is between 11pm and 12am. Some of the local bars were open as late as 3am and always full of people, sitting at the outside tables. I am sure that part of it was due to the fabulous weather we had. In March - the end of their summer - both the temperature and the humidity are lower than in the peek of the summer, although we still appreciated having an air conditioner in the apartment (and that even though I don't like ACs and hardly ever use one).
When you start packing for BA keep in mind that the milongas often don't have an AC and usually only an insufficient number of fans. At 70-75F outside temperature this meant that even somebody like me who hardly sweats is well moist after a single tanda. After 2-3 tandas one is drenched in sweat, sticky and with little chance of drying out. No wonder the porteñas dance in shorts or mini skirts! Seldom in my life have I been so grateful for a shower as I was after a class followed by a night in the milongas. Probably at really traditional milongas one would need to dress up properly but at the younger milongas everyone wears whatever they want. At the same milonga you can see people in evening dresses or suits, in cargo pants, in shorts, or even in tiny, short dresses which show most of the bra. I guess anything goes as long as it helps you combat the heat and humidity in the milonga. Already the first couple of nights helped me understand why Argentine tango dancers put so much product in their hair to sleek it back. Well, without clips or gel in my hair after an hour of dancing I looked like a dandelion, and I don't mean the cute yellow ones but the big, puffy, white ones from the end of the summer!
Friday, May 31, 2013
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Tuesday, May 28, 2013
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Monday, May 27, 2013
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Sunday, May 26, 2013
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Wednesday, May 15, 2013
"Mi Buenos Aires Querido"
In March of 2012 I went to BA for the first time. When I came back I was asked to write an article about it for a blog called "The delicate strength". I don't know if that blog is still around and how long it might exist, that's why I decided to publish the article on my blog too.
Buenos Aires Trip 2012, Part 2
The next day was a super lonely one. My dancing partner hadn't arrived yet, the internet didn't work, I didn't have a phone card or even an adapter to charge my phone battery, and all of that meant that I wasn't able to talk to anyone all day long. Yes, gentlemen, I like talking! I embarked on a hours-long journey in exploration of my environment as well as a search for a power adapter and a map. Saw Palermo SoHo and Palermo Viejo, bought the adapter but didn't find a map. Getting a map turned out to be harder than expected because the kiosk vendors kept sending me to the book stores, where I would get bounced back to the kiosks. Eventually, on the next day I succeeded in buying a map at a newspaper kiosk. Actually, I ended up hardly using it because the day after that at the Atisenal tango shoes store I was given a smaller and handier "tango map" - and that for free.
That first day during my get-to-know-my-surroundings trip I kept passing nice cafés with tables outside. I was craving a cold beer but didn't stop anywhere because every time I would approach a bar or a café I was exposed to the undivided attention of all the guys in it. Argentine men like to whistle, shout out in your direction and compliment you in general. They seem to feel that if a woman made the effort to dress up, even if she didn't, they should show her their appreciation, even if she doesn't want it. Walking through BA feels quite like walking through Harlem. All the guys want is to tell you that they think you are pretty and if you turn around and respond to their efforts with "Hey guys" you can see the mixture of happiness and confusion on their faces. But they generally don't follow you or get creepy. I think that hitting on women is Argentine's true national sport. It's even more popular than soccer, if you could imagine that! By the way, speaking of soccer: The first Sunday I was unpleasantly surprised that over 90% of the stores were closed, which I wrongly attributed to Church Time. Turns out that the Argentines are not particularly religious, or rather that on Sundays they pay their due to a different deity - The Soccer! Sunday nights the local guys show up at the milonga and first thing first: talk about soccer! - who won which game, who did what in the game… I asked one of them what do the women do on Sundays, while the guys watch soccer. Without a second hesitation he answered: "They go to their lovers!" Then he thought for a moment and added: "As long as she doesn't stand between me and the TV I don't care what she does". I wasn't quite certain how much credibility to attribute to such an answer until a week later I met an exceptional guy - one, who admitted not to care about soccer - and who confirmed that he meets all of his "lady friends" on Sundays during soccer time… Anyway, I think that Argentine guys often just want to try their luck with a women, without really expecting success. Offering is part of the game, part of what they think is expected from them. It simply is a different culture there. In BA everybody gives kisses on the cheek to everyone - men kiss men when they see each other, the car driver helps me out with the bags, says good-bye and gives me a kiss on the cheek (and that's not even the one with the phone number), I get introduced to the wife of the land lord and she pulls me in for a kiss… You basically hug and kiss everybody you get introduced to or talk to within and often outside of tango. At the milonga when you approach the table of a friend he or she will introduce you to all the other people at the table and each one of them will get up to kiss you. They will kiss you, probably talk to you and almost certainly not dance with you. But more about that later.
In March of 2012 I went to BA for the first time. When I came back I was asked to write an article about it for a blog called "The delicate strength". I don't know if that blog is still around and how long it might exist, that's why I decided to publish the article on my blog too.
Buenos Aires Trip 2012, Part 2
The next day was a super lonely one. My dancing partner hadn't arrived yet, the internet didn't work, I didn't have a phone card or even an adapter to charge my phone battery, and all of that meant that I wasn't able to talk to anyone all day long. Yes, gentlemen, I like talking! I embarked on a hours-long journey in exploration of my environment as well as a search for a power adapter and a map. Saw Palermo SoHo and Palermo Viejo, bought the adapter but didn't find a map. Getting a map turned out to be harder than expected because the kiosk vendors kept sending me to the book stores, where I would get bounced back to the kiosks. Eventually, on the next day I succeeded in buying a map at a newspaper kiosk. Actually, I ended up hardly using it because the day after that at the Atisenal tango shoes store I was given a smaller and handier "tango map" - and that for free.
That first day during my get-to-know-my-surroundings trip I kept passing nice cafés with tables outside. I was craving a cold beer but didn't stop anywhere because every time I would approach a bar or a café I was exposed to the undivided attention of all the guys in it. Argentine men like to whistle, shout out in your direction and compliment you in general. They seem to feel that if a woman made the effort to dress up, even if she didn't, they should show her their appreciation, even if she doesn't want it. Walking through BA feels quite like walking through Harlem. All the guys want is to tell you that they think you are pretty and if you turn around and respond to their efforts with "Hey guys" you can see the mixture of happiness and confusion on their faces. But they generally don't follow you or get creepy. I think that hitting on women is Argentine's true national sport. It's even more popular than soccer, if you could imagine that! By the way, speaking of soccer: The first Sunday I was unpleasantly surprised that over 90% of the stores were closed, which I wrongly attributed to Church Time. Turns out that the Argentines are not particularly religious, or rather that on Sundays they pay their due to a different deity - The Soccer! Sunday nights the local guys show up at the milonga and first thing first: talk about soccer! - who won which game, who did what in the game… I asked one of them what do the women do on Sundays, while the guys watch soccer. Without a second hesitation he answered: "They go to their lovers!" Then he thought for a moment and added: "As long as she doesn't stand between me and the TV I don't care what she does". I wasn't quite certain how much credibility to attribute to such an answer until a week later I met an exceptional guy - one, who admitted not to care about soccer - and who confirmed that he meets all of his "lady friends" on Sundays during soccer time… Anyway, I think that Argentine guys often just want to try their luck with a women, without really expecting success. Offering is part of the game, part of what they think is expected from them. It simply is a different culture there. In BA everybody gives kisses on the cheek to everyone - men kiss men when they see each other, the car driver helps me out with the bags, says good-bye and gives me a kiss on the cheek (and that's not even the one with the phone number), I get introduced to the wife of the land lord and she pulls me in for a kiss… You basically hug and kiss everybody you get introduced to or talk to within and often outside of tango. At the milonga when you approach the table of a friend he or she will introduce you to all the other people at the table and each one of them will get up to kiss you. They will kiss you, probably talk to you and almost certainly not dance with you. But more about that later.
Sunday, May 12, 2013
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"Mi Buenos Aires Querido"
In March of 2012 I went to BA for the first time. When I came back I was asked to write an article about it for a blog called "The delicate strength". I don't know if that blog is still around and how long it might exist, that's why I decided to publish the article on my blog too.
Buenos Aires Trip 2012, Part 1
My first time in Buenos Aires… Three weeks in the haze of voluntary sleep deprivation, shoe shopping, tango classes, daily, or rather "nightly" dancing till 6am, no sight-seeing, frustration, soul searching and tango bliss. Aaah…"Mi Buenos Aires querido…"
Before I start telling you the tale of my journey I need to explain one thing: I started dancing tango in the year 2000, and by 2002 I was already teaching. In 2004 I decided to switch from being a finance person who teaches tango to being a full fledged tango professional who lives from and for tango. Since I have been dancing tango for 12 years now - I've taught, performed and DJ-ed in Europe and the United States - I don't go to the milonga to get exercise or move a little. I go to out for the dances that would allow me to appreciate my lead's musicality, provide me with the connection that I crave within the embrace, amuse me with the lead's skilled and unexpected choice of steps, and allow me to express myself to a receptive and sensitive partner. My body and feet often hurt due to all the dancing I do on a daily basis. For that reason when I go to the milonga I don't want to be danced just so that I don't sit, I want to dance to enjoy, otherwise, many times I'd rather sit. Since I came back often students would come to me and say something like: "If even you had ups and downs there, there is no chance for us to enjoy". But it's actually exactly the opposite way round! People who have been dancing only for a short time still have a great number of potential partners, who have been tangoing longer and who can provide a great experience. The milongas in BA are full of them: mostly porteños - eager, able and unafraid to ask for a dance. That's not the problem. The problem is that the longer you dance and hopefully the better you get, the trickier it gets to find the right partners. Somebody like Chicho for example seems to dance with only 2 to 3 women in the whole world! (OK, even if they were 10, you still get the point, right?) Lucky for me, (How weird is it that I would say this!?) I am by very, very, very far not on Chicho's level, otherwise I would probably be quite lonely. Where I am now there is a whole wonderful, bright pallet of fantastic dancers, who could make me feel as if in heaven and who could have at least a good time dancing with me. The trick is to get them… and here is where my story begins.
Before I left New York I was hardly excited about my trip because I was scared. OK, I have to admit that I am a worrier in general and as such I was worried about things like this: Will I understand them? Is it safe? Where should I keep my money at the milonga? (The answer is - in your bra. If you don't wear one give it to a male friend or figure it out.) Will I manage to get dances since my cabeceos are so bad? Should I bring cash to BA or pay with card? What will my dancing partner do at the milonga since he doesn't speak Spanish? How should I deal with the latinos possibly excessively hitting on me? And so on and so forth….
Friends recommended that my dance partner back then and I stay in Palermo and rent an apartment. This turned out to be really great advice. In the area we wanted - "Palermo SoHo, no more than 12 blocks from La Viruta" - the price of a place with two separate beds, a bath and a kitchen/kitchenette was $1200-1300 for 3 weeks. An average Argentine makes this kind of money in 3 months but when it comes to foreigners they know that they can ask for higher prices. I found the rent high because I was still expecting BA to be cheap, which it wasn't, but renting an apartment is still more inexpensive than a hotel or even a hostel if you will be there for a longer while.
I had stayed overnight in Miami in order to cut in two the 10h flight from NY, so my plane landed in BA around 10:30pm. I had already gathered the info that I should get a car service called "remise" instead of a taxi to bring me to the hotel. The advantage is that the car service charges a fixed price of about $50, which gives them an incentive to bring you quickly to the destination, instead of giving you the scenic route like a pay-per-mile taxi might do. The car service kiosks are all located in a separate area through which everybody passes between Customs and the general area. There is no way to miss them and the representatives all speak English. The car driver was extremely friendly, talked to me all the way to the apartment and gave me his card to call him if I needed "anything". The way he enunciated the word "anything" still makes me think that his decision wasn't dictated only by pity for the confused foreigner, who is coming to visit for the first time. A man in BA just doesn't miss a chance to hit on a girl.
Arriving in Palermo I was excited to see that our building has two metal gates - one after the other -, each with its own key. Turns out that all buildings get locked manually and the buzzers don't work, so that nobody can buzz in a stranger, and most buildings have at least one metal gate. Besides, most balconies or at least the ones on the lower levels have metal nets for robbery protection. The fact that the locals feel the necessity for such measures tells me that life even in Palermo - the very heart of BA - is not safe and yet I only twice felt uneasy on the street late at night.
Back at the apartment the landlord was waiting for me with the key and all necessary information. I settled in, took a shower and… at 2am headed out to my first milonga. :) I was actually quite uneasy since I didn't know where I was, didn't know exactly how far away the milonga was or if it was at all safe for a woman to walk around alone at night. As I was walking down one of the avenues I spotted a man moving with his arms stretched away from his body and turning his torso in one direction for a couple of steps, then in the other. He was practicing his dissociation at 2am on the street!!! A closer look revealed an American tango dancer who I knew. :) What a small world… At my first milonga, "El Yeite", I met quite some foreigners that I new from the US and Europe, who turned out to be almost the only people I danced with that night. In my BA journal I wrote down that the locals are hard nuts to crack. And that on my first night! Little did I know…
In March of 2012 I went to BA for the first time. When I came back I was asked to write an article about it for a blog called "The delicate strength". I don't know if that blog is still around and how long it might exist, that's why I decided to publish the article on my blog too.
Buenos Aires Trip 2012, Part 1
My first time in Buenos Aires… Three weeks in the haze of voluntary sleep deprivation, shoe shopping, tango classes, daily, or rather "nightly" dancing till 6am, no sight-seeing, frustration, soul searching and tango bliss. Aaah…"Mi Buenos Aires querido…"
Before I start telling you the tale of my journey I need to explain one thing: I started dancing tango in the year 2000, and by 2002 I was already teaching. In 2004 I decided to switch from being a finance person who teaches tango to being a full fledged tango professional who lives from and for tango. Since I have been dancing tango for 12 years now - I've taught, performed and DJ-ed in Europe and the United States - I don't go to the milonga to get exercise or move a little. I go to out for the dances that would allow me to appreciate my lead's musicality, provide me with the connection that I crave within the embrace, amuse me with the lead's skilled and unexpected choice of steps, and allow me to express myself to a receptive and sensitive partner. My body and feet often hurt due to all the dancing I do on a daily basis. For that reason when I go to the milonga I don't want to be danced just so that I don't sit, I want to dance to enjoy, otherwise, many times I'd rather sit. Since I came back often students would come to me and say something like: "If even you had ups and downs there, there is no chance for us to enjoy". But it's actually exactly the opposite way round! People who have been dancing only for a short time still have a great number of potential partners, who have been tangoing longer and who can provide a great experience. The milongas in BA are full of them: mostly porteños - eager, able and unafraid to ask for a dance. That's not the problem. The problem is that the longer you dance and hopefully the better you get, the trickier it gets to find the right partners. Somebody like Chicho for example seems to dance with only 2 to 3 women in the whole world! (OK, even if they were 10, you still get the point, right?) Lucky for me, (How weird is it that I would say this!?) I am by very, very, very far not on Chicho's level, otherwise I would probably be quite lonely. Where I am now there is a whole wonderful, bright pallet of fantastic dancers, who could make me feel as if in heaven and who could have at least a good time dancing with me. The trick is to get them… and here is where my story begins.
Before I left New York I was hardly excited about my trip because I was scared. OK, I have to admit that I am a worrier in general and as such I was worried about things like this: Will I understand them? Is it safe? Where should I keep my money at the milonga? (The answer is - in your bra. If you don't wear one give it to a male friend or figure it out.) Will I manage to get dances since my cabeceos are so bad? Should I bring cash to BA or pay with card? What will my dancing partner do at the milonga since he doesn't speak Spanish? How should I deal with the latinos possibly excessively hitting on me? And so on and so forth….
Friends recommended that my dance partner back then and I stay in Palermo and rent an apartment. This turned out to be really great advice. In the area we wanted - "Palermo SoHo, no more than 12 blocks from La Viruta" - the price of a place with two separate beds, a bath and a kitchen/kitchenette was $1200-1300 for 3 weeks. An average Argentine makes this kind of money in 3 months but when it comes to foreigners they know that they can ask for higher prices. I found the rent high because I was still expecting BA to be cheap, which it wasn't, but renting an apartment is still more inexpensive than a hotel or even a hostel if you will be there for a longer while.
I had stayed overnight in Miami in order to cut in two the 10h flight from NY, so my plane landed in BA around 10:30pm. I had already gathered the info that I should get a car service called "remise" instead of a taxi to bring me to the hotel. The advantage is that the car service charges a fixed price of about $50, which gives them an incentive to bring you quickly to the destination, instead of giving you the scenic route like a pay-per-mile taxi might do. The car service kiosks are all located in a separate area through which everybody passes between Customs and the general area. There is no way to miss them and the representatives all speak English. The car driver was extremely friendly, talked to me all the way to the apartment and gave me his card to call him if I needed "anything". The way he enunciated the word "anything" still makes me think that his decision wasn't dictated only by pity for the confused foreigner, who is coming to visit for the first time. A man in BA just doesn't miss a chance to hit on a girl.
Arriving in Palermo I was excited to see that our building has two metal gates - one after the other -, each with its own key. Turns out that all buildings get locked manually and the buzzers don't work, so that nobody can buzz in a stranger, and most buildings have at least one metal gate. Besides, most balconies or at least the ones on the lower levels have metal nets for robbery protection. The fact that the locals feel the necessity for such measures tells me that life even in Palermo - the very heart of BA - is not safe and yet I only twice felt uneasy on the street late at night.
Back at the apartment the landlord was waiting for me with the key and all necessary information. I settled in, took a shower and… at 2am headed out to my first milonga. :) I was actually quite uneasy since I didn't know where I was, didn't know exactly how far away the milonga was or if it was at all safe for a woman to walk around alone at night. As I was walking down one of the avenues I spotted a man moving with his arms stretched away from his body and turning his torso in one direction for a couple of steps, then in the other. He was practicing his dissociation at 2am on the street!!! A closer look revealed an American tango dancer who I knew. :) What a small world… At my first milonga, "El Yeite", I met quite some foreigners that I new from the US and Europe, who turned out to be almost the only people I danced with that night. In my BA journal I wrote down that the locals are hard nuts to crack. And that on my first night! Little did I know…
Saturday, May 4, 2013
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Friday, May 3, 2013
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Thursday, May 2, 2013
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Wednesday, May 1, 2013
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Tuesday, April 30, 2013
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Monday, April 29, 2013
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Saturday, April 27, 2013
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Friday, April 26, 2013
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Tuesday, April 23, 2013
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Monday, April 22, 2013
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Sunday, April 21, 2013
Washington, DC trip - April 2013
Fabulous weather, spring still in (not full anymore) bloom and as always, my participation in a sunny day is limited to breakfast on the balcony, before I start teaching privates. My hosts have an awesome, little back yard with some red blooming bushes, spices in pots and a big tree. I think I can spend a whole day here, napping in the sun. :) Some other time.
The Bolt Bus ride to DC was surprisingly pleasant. These guys have definitely stepped up their game. The toilet didn't smell, the driver was polite, the internet was rather moody but mostly present, we didn't forget anyone at the rest stop in Delaware and made it to DC in 4.5h.
The first evening I taught a pivoting technique class and was surprised by the number of enthusiasts - mostly men-, who came to learn the proper timing of an ocho. I have to admit that I was very pleased I managed to win over those particular students, since older people sometimes might have a problem with a young, skinny teacher telling them to dissociate more. But they all did great and liked it. The performance that night was particularly interesting for me because I had never met my partner, Bella. She arrived around 10:15pm, we danced to tandas and at 11pm we were ready to perform on the super slippery floor of the church, where the venue was held. Here are two of the three dances we did:
Vals: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5FnVkw740nk
Milonga: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aKZdsLByJgI
The second night, at Milonga Zandunga, I gave a class on how to express the lyrical parts of the music and almost teared up when I watched people slow down, listen to Rufino's voice and try
to follow it. Later I performed with the milonga organizer, who is a head taller than me, if I am in flats, and whose legs start from above my waist. The demo was a lot of fun, since it felt like we were flying, but strangely it doesn't look like that in the video, which will probably stay unposted.
Today is my last day here and after quickly soaking up some sun I have a day full of privates and a night of DJ-ing a practilonga. My first DJ gig in DC. :)
Fabulous weather, spring still in (not full anymore) bloom and as always, my participation in a sunny day is limited to breakfast on the balcony, before I start teaching privates. My hosts have an awesome, little back yard with some red blooming bushes, spices in pots and a big tree. I think I can spend a whole day here, napping in the sun. :) Some other time.
The Bolt Bus ride to DC was surprisingly pleasant. These guys have definitely stepped up their game. The toilet didn't smell, the driver was polite, the internet was rather moody but mostly present, we didn't forget anyone at the rest stop in Delaware and made it to DC in 4.5h.
The first evening I taught a pivoting technique class and was surprised by the number of enthusiasts - mostly men-, who came to learn the proper timing of an ocho. I have to admit that I was very pleased I managed to win over those particular students, since older people sometimes might have a problem with a young, skinny teacher telling them to dissociate more. But they all did great and liked it. The performance that night was particularly interesting for me because I had never met my partner, Bella. She arrived around 10:15pm, we danced to tandas and at 11pm we were ready to perform on the super slippery floor of the church, where the venue was held. Here are two of the three dances we did:
Vals: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5FnVkw740nk
Milonga: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aKZdsLByJgI
The second night, at Milonga Zandunga, I gave a class on how to express the lyrical parts of the music and almost teared up when I watched people slow down, listen to Rufino's voice and try
to follow it. Later I performed with the milonga organizer, who is a head taller than me, if I am in flats, and whose legs start from above my waist. The demo was a lot of fun, since it felt like we were flying, but strangely it doesn't look like that in the video, which will probably stay unposted.
Today is my last day here and after quickly soaking up some sun I have a day full of privates and a night of DJ-ing a practilonga. My first DJ gig in DC. :)
Friday, April 19, 2013
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Tuesday, April 16, 2013
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Monday, April 15, 2013
The little differences
I find it so exciting that every tango community has it's own little "perks" that make it distinct from the others, like for example that New York is used to particularly rhythmic music.
When I was in Vancouver the first night the DJ played all tandas of only 3 songs each. The purpose being that this way people end up changing partners more often and hardly any of the too many women sits for too long. Even though at first it felt strange to me to be "cheated out" of my 4th song in the tango tandas, I got used to it surprisingly quickly, and since I saw the merit in it, I adopted the practice during the second night, when I DJ-ed. :)
In Seattle I encountered something else - at practicas they don't play cortinas. I liked the idea to skip the cortinas so that the venue feels less like a milonga, although in the end their practicas are just like the New York ones - nobody practices, but just dances socially... with one word - milongas. Nevertheless, there is one huge difference between Seattle and NY venues, and that's the ratio of leads to follows. Since there are so many tech companies in Seattle, the tango community has more men than women. Hint, hint, ladies! :) And what is even more - out of the naturally arising competition many they guys have developed into not bad or even quite nice dancers. :) :) :)
I find it so exciting that every tango community has it's own little "perks" that make it distinct from the others, like for example that New York is used to particularly rhythmic music.
When I was in Vancouver the first night the DJ played all tandas of only 3 songs each. The purpose being that this way people end up changing partners more often and hardly any of the too many women sits for too long. Even though at first it felt strange to me to be "cheated out" of my 4th song in the tango tandas, I got used to it surprisingly quickly, and since I saw the merit in it, I adopted the practice during the second night, when I DJ-ed. :)
In Seattle I encountered something else - at practicas they don't play cortinas. I liked the idea to skip the cortinas so that the venue feels less like a milonga, although in the end their practicas are just like the New York ones - nobody practices, but just dances socially... with one word - milongas. Nevertheless, there is one huge difference between Seattle and NY venues, and that's the ratio of leads to follows. Since there are so many tech companies in Seattle, the tango community has more men than women. Hint, hint, ladies! :) And what is even more - out of the naturally arising competition many they guys have developed into not bad or even quite nice dancers. :) :) :)
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Saturday, April 13, 2013
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Friday, April 12, 2013
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Seattle/Vancouver trip, day 7
Seattle is the first place outside of Germany that makes me feel as if I was back there. People are very nice but surprisingly reserved - tango dancers who hardly hug off the dance floor, listen intently but are not very interactive in class, show emotions while dancing but don't say anything after the tanda... On the third day for the first time somebody asked me if I needed a ride to the milonga, where I was DJ-ing, on the fourth another person offered help with my 15 pound bag, and today somebody expressed verbally having enjoyed dancing with me. It just makes me feel propelled back to Berlin, where people are really nice but it takes them a whole while to open up and warm up to one.
In any case, I am happy I got to stay here long enough not only to see that they don't have anything again me, but that they can actually accept me and may be even be glad I came to visit. I've been having quite a lovely time dancing and working here, and am looking forward to a few more days of inconsistent weather but consistently nice people. :)
Seattle is the first place outside of Germany that makes me feel as if I was back there. People are very nice but surprisingly reserved - tango dancers who hardly hug off the dance floor, listen intently but are not very interactive in class, show emotions while dancing but don't say anything after the tanda... On the third day for the first time somebody asked me if I needed a ride to the milonga, where I was DJ-ing, on the fourth another person offered help with my 15 pound bag, and today somebody expressed verbally having enjoyed dancing with me. It just makes me feel propelled back to Berlin, where people are really nice but it takes them a whole while to open up and warm up to one.
In any case, I am happy I got to stay here long enough not only to see that they don't have anything again me, but that they can actually accept me and may be even be glad I came to visit. I've been having quite a lovely time dancing and working here, and am looking forward to a few more days of inconsistent weather but consistently nice people. :)
Thursday, April 11, 2013
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Seattle/Vancouver trip, day 6
It was an usual travel day - privates, premilonga class, DJ-ing and a little demo at the practica, in this particular case. I see only the inside of buildings and it doesn't quite matter if it is sunny or rainy outside, since I'm inside almost 24hours. But I like my travels this way - with a lot of work and the priceless feeling of provoking "Aha!"-moments in the students.
Practica Zen was at Om Culture, which is a wonderful space with beautiful Indian decoration and the smell of green tea soaked in the furniture, and huge sitting pillows. The prepractica class was surprisingly well attended and the practica itself was full. Highlight of the night - one of my favorite dancers, Jaimes Friedgen, came out dancing and we managed two quite athletic and super fun tandas. :) :) :) The rest of the night was great too. :)
It was an usual travel day - privates, premilonga class, DJ-ing and a little demo at the practica, in this particular case. I see only the inside of buildings and it doesn't quite matter if it is sunny or rainy outside, since I'm inside almost 24hours. But I like my travels this way - with a lot of work and the priceless feeling of provoking "Aha!"-moments in the students.
Practica Zen was at Om Culture, which is a wonderful space with beautiful Indian decoration and the smell of green tea soaked in the furniture, and huge sitting pillows. The prepractica class was surprisingly well attended and the practica itself was full. Highlight of the night - one of my favorite dancers, Jaimes Friedgen, came out dancing and we managed two quite athletic and super fun tandas. :) :) :) The rest of the night was great too. :)
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
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Seattle/Vancouver trip, day 5
After it turned out that my host doesn't have wifi for the moment, one of the organizers took me under his wing and brought me to his house, where he fed me some good home food, which showed me yet again that I can hardly cook, and then I spent 3 hours emailing people back and forth.
Then I went food shopping for my breakfasts, then - dinner with my host, and later - DJ-ed at Century Ballroom. Luckily for me, some good people came out and I had a great night.
Today the work starts in the form of privates and my first class in Seattle. As always, the impression a community gets of a visiting teacher is not complete until they see them teach. Hopefully after today people will have somewhat easier time deciding if they like me and want to socialize with me, or not.
After it turned out that my host doesn't have wifi for the moment, one of the organizers took me under his wing and brought me to his house, where he fed me some good home food, which showed me yet again that I can hardly cook, and then I spent 3 hours emailing people back and forth.
Then I went food shopping for my breakfasts, then - dinner with my host, and later - DJ-ed at Century Ballroom. Luckily for me, some good people came out and I had a great night.
Today the work starts in the form of privates and my first class in Seattle. As always, the impression a community gets of a visiting teacher is not complete until they see them teach. Hopefully after today people will have somewhat easier time deciding if they like me and want to socialize with me, or not.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
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Seattle/Vancouver trip, days 3 and 4
Sunday in Vancouver was a day of work full of privates and workshops, a lot of coffee and some quickly eaten takeout sushi. Then 45min of waiting to be seated at "East is East", which is a new fusion restaurant with good food, live music, chai and tiny ordoeuvres while waiting at the door and a hostess, who comes every 5 min and says "Just two more minutes"...
BTW, did you know that the traffic lights in Vancouver blink when it's time for you go? In New York only the pedestrian lights blink and that's the sign that the signal is about to turn to "don't walk", whereas in Vancouver the light for the cars starts blinking when it turns green. Even though it surprised me quite a lot and the first time I saw it and I wasn't quite sure if the cars should stop or go in this case, actually it's a neat idea - since a lot of people don't pay a close attention to the traffic light, a blinking is more likely to make them look up.
The next day, on Monday, I took the bus to Seattle. For that matter I almost missed the bus to Seattle, because what had to be a 30min ride turned into a 58min travel. The last 2 minutes were there for me to run to the station, follow another running couple in the hopes that they are going toward the same bus company, throw my bag on the bus and leave. To get to the station I had to take two electric buses and one of them was super late, which A. gave me the opportunity to marvel at the surprisingly high number of homeless or near homeless people in that area - the Vancouver China town -, where I suppose there might have been a soup kitchen or something of the sort, in order to attract them, and B. made me realize that I don't even know what a Vancouver taxi looks like, not to mention how to call one...
Back at Seattle I got picked up and brought to the Seattle meets The Vanja dinner, where I ate frog legs for the first time. Beside being deep fried, which I don't like, they were very tasty. Then - up to the milonga. Nice music. Ha ha! Since I was the DJ I like the music for sure... and really nice dancing. There were many very good leads and follows and I had a wonderful evening.
Sunday in Vancouver was a day of work full of privates and workshops, a lot of coffee and some quickly eaten takeout sushi. Then 45min of waiting to be seated at "East is East", which is a new fusion restaurant with good food, live music, chai and tiny ordoeuvres while waiting at the door and a hostess, who comes every 5 min and says "Just two more minutes"...
BTW, did you know that the traffic lights in Vancouver blink when it's time for you go? In New York only the pedestrian lights blink and that's the sign that the signal is about to turn to "don't walk", whereas in Vancouver the light for the cars starts blinking when it turns green. Even though it surprised me quite a lot and the first time I saw it and I wasn't quite sure if the cars should stop or go in this case, actually it's a neat idea - since a lot of people don't pay a close attention to the traffic light, a blinking is more likely to make them look up.
The next day, on Monday, I took the bus to Seattle. For that matter I almost missed the bus to Seattle, because what had to be a 30min ride turned into a 58min travel. The last 2 minutes were there for me to run to the station, follow another running couple in the hopes that they are going toward the same bus company, throw my bag on the bus and leave. To get to the station I had to take two electric buses and one of them was super late, which A. gave me the opportunity to marvel at the surprisingly high number of homeless or near homeless people in that area - the Vancouver China town -, where I suppose there might have been a soup kitchen or something of the sort, in order to attract them, and B. made me realize that I don't even know what a Vancouver taxi looks like, not to mention how to call one...
Back at Seattle I got picked up and brought to the Seattle meets The Vanja dinner, where I ate frog legs for the first time. Beside being deep fried, which I don't like, they were very tasty. Then - up to the milonga. Nice music. Ha ha! Since I was the DJ I like the music for sure... and really nice dancing. There were many very good leads and follows and I had a wonderful evening.
Monday, April 8, 2013
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Sunday, April 7, 2013
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Friday, April 5, 2013
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Seattle/Vancouver trip day 1, part 2
In Seattle, while dragging my two heavy bags up the slope, looking for the building where my temporary host lives, a stocky, old guy stopped me with the words: "This bag is exhausting you. Do you want me to give you a ride?" He did seemed dressed like the super of a building and yet all my alarm bells went off. I politely refused his help while cursing myself silently for it, since my bags were really heavy and I was stumbling over them like a little girl, when hitting one of the bumps on the quite steep slope... Luckily, it turned out that the building I was looking for was just on the other side of the street. I wonder if the guy was legit... I'll never know, but may be he was... since it seems that everybody here is nice. For example, I didn't know the person, in whose house I was staying today, and yet he let me have his key and hang out there while he was at work, and also left me his cell phone so that I would have a wireless hot spot... while his friend merrily let me sit on the front seat during our car ride to Vancouver, just because I get nauseous...
Crossing the border was somewhat nerve wracking for me because I know of cases when American tango dancers were not let into Canada. It should not be a problem that I am going to teach a few workshops and DJ once, since it is cultural exchange, but you never know if the border officer knows that too. You simply can't be sure how much trouble they might decide to make for you. Turned out to be easy. The driver was a pretty, blond girl with blue eyes and a happy smile, and the Latin looking officer was mesmerized. Lucky for me!
Then we got lost a few times, plus a pee pause on the highway, because the driver had too much coffee and water, before we made it to the Lindy-hop venue, where the others were going, and from where my host picked me up. Now, freshly showered and dressed properly it's time for my first milonga in Vancouver. :)
In Seattle, while dragging my two heavy bags up the slope, looking for the building where my temporary host lives, a stocky, old guy stopped me with the words: "This bag is exhausting you. Do you want me to give you a ride?" He did seemed dressed like the super of a building and yet all my alarm bells went off. I politely refused his help while cursing myself silently for it, since my bags were really heavy and I was stumbling over them like a little girl, when hitting one of the bumps on the quite steep slope... Luckily, it turned out that the building I was looking for was just on the other side of the street. I wonder if the guy was legit... I'll never know, but may be he was... since it seems that everybody here is nice. For example, I didn't know the person, in whose house I was staying today, and yet he let me have his key and hang out there while he was at work, and also left me his cell phone so that I would have a wireless hot spot... while his friend merrily let me sit on the front seat during our car ride to Vancouver, just because I get nauseous...
Crossing the border was somewhat nerve wracking for me because I know of cases when American tango dancers were not let into Canada. It should not be a problem that I am going to teach a few workshops and DJ once, since it is cultural exchange, but you never know if the border officer knows that too. You simply can't be sure how much trouble they might decide to make for you. Turned out to be easy. The driver was a pretty, blond girl with blue eyes and a happy smile, and the Latin looking officer was mesmerized. Lucky for me!
Then we got lost a few times, plus a pee pause on the highway, because the driver had too much coffee and water, before we made it to the Lindy-hop venue, where the others were going, and from where my host picked me up. Now, freshly showered and dressed properly it's time for my first milonga in Vancouver. :)
Vancouver/Seattle trip
My first time to Seattle. Arrived on a super bumpy flight, still managed to sleep though, after having gotten 2.5h of restless sleep at home the previous night. Would only wake up when the pilot would firmly say "Seat belts on!" It sounded urgent every time, and it felt urgent, honestly.
At 11am I was in Seattle. They have a wonderful, new, clean, silent and fast train called "Light Rail" going directly from the airport to downtown Seattle and more. I got of at Beacon Hill station. Nice area, residential, with beautiful gardens and slightly run down houses. Left my luggage at the house of a friend and went to chase some coffee in the "multitude" of restaurants, as I was told, which then turned out to be 2 restaurants, one taco stand, one coffee shop, one bakery and one little store. Awesome! The coffee shop, called "The Station" was the only place that had cold coffee, so I went there. Great coffee! But really - great coffee! I am not a coffee snob at all but I do appreciate a good coffee. I ended up spending 3 hours there chatting to the guy, who was preparing the coffee, and to all the visitors, who knew him by name and seemed to be coming there as much for the company as for the coffee.
Now I am heavily caffeinated and really tired. Time for an hour of sleep before my "host" comes home and we head up to Vancouver. The day is far away from over for me. But it was a good start. :)
My first time to Seattle. Arrived on a super bumpy flight, still managed to sleep though, after having gotten 2.5h of restless sleep at home the previous night. Would only wake up when the pilot would firmly say "Seat belts on!" It sounded urgent every time, and it felt urgent, honestly.
At 11am I was in Seattle. They have a wonderful, new, clean, silent and fast train called "Light Rail" going directly from the airport to downtown Seattle and more. I got of at Beacon Hill station. Nice area, residential, with beautiful gardens and slightly run down houses. Left my luggage at the house of a friend and went to chase some coffee in the "multitude" of restaurants, as I was told, which then turned out to be 2 restaurants, one taco stand, one coffee shop, one bakery and one little store. Awesome! The coffee shop, called "The Station" was the only place that had cold coffee, so I went there. Great coffee! But really - great coffee! I am not a coffee snob at all but I do appreciate a good coffee. I ended up spending 3 hours there chatting to the guy, who was preparing the coffee, and to all the visitors, who knew him by name and seemed to be coming there as much for the company as for the coffee.
Now I am heavily caffeinated and really tired. Time for an hour of sleep before my "host" comes home and we head up to Vancouver. The day is far away from over for me. But it was a good start. :)
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Tuesday, April 2, 2013
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Sunday, March 31, 2013
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Saturday, March 30, 2013
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Wednesday, March 27, 2013
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Tuesday, March 26, 2013
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Monday, March 25, 2013
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Tuesday, March 19, 2013
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Monday, March 18, 2013
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Sunday, March 17, 2013
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Thursday, March 14, 2013
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Wednesday, March 13, 2013
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Monday, March 11, 2013
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Sunday, March 10, 2013
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Saturday, March 9, 2013
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Friday, March 8, 2013
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Thursday, March 7, 2013
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Wednesday, March 6, 2013
A peak hour ride on the Buenos Aires subway
We were like the proverbial sardines. The (as it happened young and handsome enough) guy behind me pressed his groin on my butt, his chest on my back and stabilized himself there - perfectly copying every single move I made (probably great tango follow), while I was lovingly fondling the bold head of the guy in front of me, who happened to be in the way of the only place I could hold onto. My other hand, in which i was holding my bag, was being caressed frequently but nonchalantly by yet another guy. If one doesn't get enough hugs and physical affection, I think a prolonged peak hour ride with the "subte" can be the solution.
We were like the proverbial sardines. The (as it happened young and handsome enough) guy behind me pressed his groin on my butt, his chest on my back and stabilized himself there - perfectly copying every single move I made (probably great tango follow), while I was lovingly fondling the bold head of the guy in front of me, who happened to be in the way of the only place I could hold onto. My other hand, in which i was holding my bag, was being caressed frequently but nonchalantly by yet another guy. If one doesn't get enough hugs and physical affection, I think a prolonged peak hour ride with the "subte" can be the solution.
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Monday, March 4, 2013
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Sunday, March 3, 2013
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Saturday, March 2, 2013
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Friday, March 1, 2013
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Thursday, February 28, 2013
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Wednesday, February 27, 2013
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Tuesday, February 26, 2013
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Monday, February 25, 2013
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Sunday, February 24, 2013
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Saturday, February 23, 2013
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Friday, February 22, 2013
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Thursday, February 21, 2013
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Wednesday, February 20, 2013
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Monday, February 18, 2013
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Sunday, February 17, 2013
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Friday, February 15, 2013
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Sunday, February 10, 2013
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Saturday, February 9, 2013
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Friday, February 8, 2013
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Thursday, February 7, 2013
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Tuesday, February 5, 2013
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Monday, February 4, 2013
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Sunday, February 3, 2013
Dreamy dancing
Where were the women tonight? Milonga RoKo had many more guys than girls and for once the gentlemen had to be on top of their game to catch a dance. I know it's Superball Sunday, but I would have rather expected the men to be "missing in action " and not the ladies... Is that considered sexist? In any case, I had a dreamy night after somebody, who I hadn't seen in 6 months showed up - freshly shaved, wearing my favorite perfume and ready to dance more than 10 consecutive tandas with me. :-) :-)
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Friday, February 1, 2013
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Wednesday, January 30, 2013
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"Time to leave my beautiful room in the house of my gorgeous host in Portland. Soon - airport time."
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Monday, January 28, 2013
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"Tonight is my last night in Portland. Giving some final instructions to tha students, as you can see."
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Friday, January 25, 2013
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Monday, January 21, 2013
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Friday, January 18, 2013
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"Built in 1844 as "Church of the Holy Communion", used 1983-2007 as a night club - The Limelight - and in 2010 converted into a retail mall called Limelight Marketplace... In one word - recycling! :)"
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Thursday, January 17, 2013
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"At the Union League club in NYC. They desperately need to update the decor. The 1950s are long gone..."
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Tuesday, January 15, 2013
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"Becoming a regular at my dentist's office. Giving the doctor advice on how to use Facebook. :)"
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Sunday, January 13, 2013
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Saturday, January 12, 2013
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"Ready for an unexpected, little revenge. Turnabout is a fair play. :) First performance with my newest The Gift of Dance skirt: https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Gift-of-Dance/210458639052860?ref=ts&fref=ts"
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Thursday, January 10, 2013
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""La Lanterna di Vittorio" in NYC. Good mulled wine. Good pizza. Attentive staff. I approve."
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Wednesday, January 9, 2013
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Tuesday, January 8, 2013
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Monday, January 7, 2013
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"The beautiful Amster Yard of the Instituto Cervantes building in NY. Miss coming here every week."
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Sunday, January 6, 2013
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"My newest temporary ankle tattoo. Neo tango shoes: http://www.neotangoshoes.com/ and Enganche dress: https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Gift-of-Dance/210458639052860?ref=ts&fref=ts"
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