My Tango Diaries

Comments and emails about my last post, Breaking the Embrace, got me thinking about the 'embrace negotiation' that happens as a couple begins to dance. I have had different teachers tell me different things - "the woman must always adapt to the man's style and embrace" "The man should accept the embrace the woman offers." Most of the leaders locally wait for me to choose the distance - I don't know if that's what they were taught or if it's just practical. I have had a few leaders scoop me up into close embrace almost before the music starts, which is a bit startling - but since I tend to prefer that embrace, I tend to settle in eventually. When a leader actively chooses open embrace and maintains that space, I try to maintain it from my side as well - though it's hard for me. As I dance more and more in close embrace, I get out of the habit. One leader, visiting from out of town, said Argentine teachers especially emphasize that the wo

"I remember one night at the Club Gricel, shortly before his death. Mariana, his dancing partner, leaned against him, held up by nothing more than Gavito's forehead and the tips of her own toes. It was an act of absolute surrender. The slightest error would have brought them both tumbling to the floor. That photograph has become, for me, the absolute definition of eros: I surrender to you with absolute certainty; you are my balance." --Photographer, Pablo Corral Vega

Intellectually, I can get my mind around the usefulness of a fluid or dynamic embrace. It allows for more options in certain places - the opportunity to lead something a little bigger, or a little more complex. It can serve as a dramatic pause. I do sort of get it. Or at least I try to. It isn't my preference. . There are a few dancers who open the embrace as part of their dance, for the effect of it. I'm not talking about opening the embrace because the step that the music demands is too hard to do in close embrace - sometimes that's just how it goes. I'm specifically talking about opening the embrace as the end in itself. Mostly for a dramatic pause. When I know that the leader I'm dancing with is prone to opening the embrace, I never really settle in. I'm always waiting for the warmth and comfort to be altered, or be taken away altogether. I danced with a partner the other day who is doing this more and more. In a certain place in the music, he stops briefl

I'm dragging today. Another Tuesday night milonga means a late night before and early morning work day. I go through this every week. And I don't plan to change a thing. It's worth it. It's worth every yawn, worth every "could you repeat what you just said? My brain wandered off." It's worth every, "you look kinda tired today." "I was up dancing tango." (I try to stifle the glee I feel every time I tell someone at work that.) So many great things about last night's milonga. A tanguero finding *his* tango. Dancing the heck out of a milonga - I mean *flying* the milonga. Lovely. New people. Old friends. Tanguera bonding. Putting down roots in this amazing community of warm, kind, big-hearted tango dancers. What could be more welcome than a solid, weekly milonga venue with good friends, good food and live music from Glover? I can't think of thing. No se pierdan ni un compás de este tango que va cautivando rebelde y dulzón. Entre vu

I made it through almost two of Daniela Arcuri's classes before my ankle gave out. It wasn't too bad - sore and weak - but if I continued dancing on it, especially through milonga class, I'd be unable to dance later. So I gave up 2/3 of the way through molinete class. The molinete class *alone* was worth the price of all three workshops! Daniela taught everyone (leaders and followers) how to lead molinetes three ways, as well as how to follow them. She emphasized recognizing where and when the lead is felt and how to position feet to lead it more smoothly. While this made me appreciate more how much is involved in leading the step, it also made me very grateful to be a follower. I thought my brain was going to melt from too much information. Daniela's first class of the day, a yoga inspired tango exercise class (which I had already taken twice!), still makes me feel like totally inept Daniel Larusso at the beginning of Karate Kid. I caught myself wondering if I was g

I just passed the 8th month mark of my tango life. If I were an 8 month old baby, this is how my world would look: Some of the major milestones for the 8 month old include: * Crawling backward and forward . (Well it certainly can feel like crawling. Trying to walk while remembering to tighten my core, relax my hips, stay in line with my feet, lower my shoulders and breathe . . and of course, relax.) * Babbling and recognizing some words . (My painful attempts at castellano.) * Loving to imitate people they know. (helloooooo YouTube!) * Being very curious, and exploring everything. (Classes, workshops, books, practicas. If only I could give up sleeping and eating, I would have more time for tango! Also, see above: YouTube.) * Being frightened by new experiences, new people, and being upset when left behind. (oh yes....tango anxiety. The internal dialogue of: why can't I remember to collect! Why didn't so-and-so ask me to dance? What if no one asks me to dance? What if someone

( Disclaimer for the record, again - I am not a teacher - only dancer, and still a pretty new one at that. These are simply my opinions and not meant to be taken as the gospel truth about anything. What follows gets a bit ranty and occasionally preachy. Please feel free to rant/preach/bitch generally, back to me in the comments. I'm a glutton for punishment - so fire when ready.) I've emphasized how much milongas are the core of my tango addiction. They are the safe haven of my hectic world - the place I go to see my friends, enjoy the music, and dance until I practically fall down. Milongas are a sanctuary. Milongas feel safe, and comfortable, and welcoming. They feel this way because milongas are not practicas . They aren't classes. They aren't workshops. The beautiful feeling of a milonga can be shattered by dancers consistently experimenting with new moves they haven't learned well on unsuspecting, and unwilling partners. (Let me stress that I learn a ton at m

This a picture of me from my high school yearbook. Despite what I see in the mirror, or reflected in other people's eyes, frequently this is what I see in my own mind's eye when I think of "me". Part of me is stuck there in time - awkward, anxious, and (what I thought at the time) unpopular, inept. Despite how far I've come, she still lives in me. Her fears, her troubles. Sometimes I bring her to the milonga - or rather she brings me. My confidence wanes. Instead of being a grown woman at a milonga, I'm a 17 year old at prom. I can't seem to connect to people with her in the way. She's too strong an influence at those insecure times for me to just push her out of my mind. I have to deal with her. All of that brings to mind a meme that's going around right now on Facebook and other places. What would you tell your teenage (I think 16 is the age given in the survey/meme) self? If you could go back in time and sit down with yourself at that age - wh

"Love and dignity cannot share the same abode." -- Ovid Lately a different version of this rings in my mind. "Tango and dignity cannot share the same abode." I am only speculating, but I think the "dignity" meant above, is more like "pride". To be open to the connection, we must be open to the truth. And the truth may be that we're clumsy tonight, or we were insensitive to our partner, that we were wrong, that we were judgmental, that we hurt someone. In my last post, I emphasized the importance of letting our partner know what we need. To be honest, but never mean or ugly. To make it about the action, and not about the person. I can't keep up if we dance so quickly to this orchestra. (Rather than, 'you're motorboating me through the line of dance.' ) I'm not comfortable holding a conversation when dancing. (Rather than, 'I can't hear the music over your constant chatter.' ) May we open the embrace a little

So the question remained. If the situation with the previous leader could be turned around so radically - how could I affect change in my dances with other leaders that I had found troubling in one way or another? Would there really be a change? Is it my place to even try? After all, I'm not a teacher - and if I try to take on that role, I become rather a hypocrite. I looked at what had happened previously and decided, as quickly as I could, what I needed to do. (It had to be quick because neither of these leaders used the cabaceo and approached me without much warning.) Mr. Ballroomdancer-armpullerbackwrencher: My last dance with this gentleman left me running for the bus home. Instead of letting him know that his method of leading was, at first uncomfortable, then finally downright painful, I stayed silent. First, because I thought I was just following badly. Second, because I was embarrassed to be in pain. For many, probably most, people that second thing will make no sense. Wh

Just after I get done telling myself, and my readers, that I'm going to start turning down leaders that make me uncomfortable in some way, I go back on the advice... sort of. Two leaders were at the milonga last night that I had had trouble with the last time I had danced with them (in both cases, the only time I had danced with them.) So when I saw them, I was fully prepared to avoid the cabaceo if possible, to turn them down directly if necessary. And I really would have too, if I hadn't just had this experience. Second chances - Part 1 I wrote about another leader recently who embarrassed me on the milonga floor by instructing in a very obvious manner in front of a table of dancers I knew somewhat well (well enough to care about their opinion) from my community. After trying unsuccessfully to dissuade him from doing this, I finished the tanda in silence. At the next milonga I saw his teacher on the dance floor stop in the line of dance, forcing the rest of the dancers to mov

I attended a milonga a couple of weeks ago at a venue I liked and knew very well. In attendance were several dancers that I knew. In other words, I felt comfortable. Until my second tanda. A tanguero I had never seen before asked me to dance and I, of course, said yes. Let me interject a little bit of advice that I was given and yet fail to follow almost every milonga - watch the dancers while you're sitting. It's not the skill level so much as the comfort level I was advised to look at. I'm still at that awkward stage where nearly everyone is a better dancer than I am, so judging skill level is a bit of a moot point for me anyway. One thing I have learned to look for is - do the followers look uncomfortable? Worried? Frustrated? Or worse, hurt? I could have avoided a few uncomfortable situations had I listened to that advice early on. (For more details, look at Ampstertango's Post on "End Results - Her Tango Look" - http://ampstertango.blogspot.com/2009/08/

Disclaimer - I am not claiming to be an expert about anything. This article is the result of several conversations with students and teachers in my own tango community and other communities around the US, and the world. This advice is subjective, most likely biased and certainly incomplete. Warning signs: Negativity: They publicly insult or ridicule other teachers or students. In fact if they publicly bad mouth anybody (or other styles of tango) it's not a good sign. I emphasize publicly because everyone, even teachers, have the right to their opinions. A good teacher knows that learning tango needs to involve learning from more than one teacher - either through festivals, visiting teachers, workshops, or simply visiting other schools. Almost all teachers have something valuable to teach you - even if it's only that their style doesn't appeal to you. Anything that helps you know yourself better will contribute to your dance. Isolation: Are they they teaching in a vacuum

The How-to for Choosing a Teacher Disclaimer - I am not claiming to be an expert about anything. This article is the result of several conversations with students and teachers in my own tango community and other communities around the US, and the world. This advice is subjective, most likely biased and certainly incomplete. Research the local teachers: I'm not just talking about asking around - because sometimes that yields good results and sometimes not. You have to do both. Do your homework. How long has this teacher been teaching Argentine tango? How about dancing tango? From which teachers or tango maestros did they learn? Do they go to workshops and festivals themselves? Do they bring in visiting teachers? There is no strict guideline of how many years a teacher has been teaching to be good - or how often (or even if) they go to Buenos Aires, or that sort of thing. What's important is that the information is readily available and/or their comfortable answering your questi

(Reposting my article series from Tango Connections.) Disclaimer - I am not claiming to be an expert about anything. This article is the result of several conversations with students and teachers in my own tango community and other communities around the US, and the world. This advice is subjective, most likely biased and certainly incomplete. With that in mind, fire when ready . . . How do you choose a tango teacher? This question is almost a permanent topic on dance forums, blogs and certainly Tango-L's newsgroup. It seems simple enough when someone approaches you at a milonga, or some other social occasion, and asks, "Who's the best teacher in the area." But of course it isn't nearly that simple. There are ways to find the best teacher for you - at this time. Beyond that, it's an impossible question to answer for someone else - though some people may try, usually with a great deal of bias. So where do you start? Know yourself. First, ask yourself why you wa

Tango has brought many puzzles to my life but the one I'm pondering now is one I don't think I can actively do anything about. Tango makes me sentimental, sometimes melancholy, sometimes just contemplative. Dancing, nearly any kind of dancing, makes me buoyant, usually requiring me to stifle giggles to be able to do it all. In dancing tango, my brain gets confused. Take for example, dancing to Malena (or Volver, or Sur), whose lyrics I've posted before. Very melancholy song. The music makes me sad, almost overwhelmingly so. Being able to dance to it with milonguero-style dancer - makes me irrepressibly happy. Having the lyrics sung to me in Spanish - also brings a ridiculously silly grin to my face. But it's a terribly sad song! Which leaves my brain wondering, 'is this happy or sad?' I end up teary-eyed and giggling at the same time. What kind of tango dancer laughs during Malena, I ask you?

The first time I got feedback from a blog post of mine in person , from a local dancer, was a little disorienting. Now that I have readers that I see (and dance with locally), when I have a tough time at a milonga, or a rough class, I can't just shut down and wait until I get home to blog about my frustration. I can't hide in the anonymity of my writing. It's irresponsible. Who would want to find out via a blog entry that they've inadvertantly hurt someone's feelings and they're the last person to find out about it? Nor should I only tell my blog and anonymous, remote readers, that someone, some dancer or teacher, has changed how I view my tango world forever. At the other extreme, naming names is also irresponsible - and for the purposes of this blog, unnecessary. Tango is personal . The feelings/experiences/dreams/disasters can be universal but the specifics are private. Just as I don't need to know your name travel on this tango road with you for a time -

"Yes, no doubt, to talk about tango is to say Gardel, el zorzal criollo, and we have to repeat until boredom, he sings better each day ..." Alfonso Laso Bermeo I knew that Gardel's voice only very rarely graced milongas I had been to. I didn't realize that, generally speaking, his voice shouldn't be danced to at all. When I've asked before, I always got a sort of shrug and sigh, and "he's too hard to dance to." "I can't find the rhythm through his voice." So I thought it was an issue of dancibililty. I can certainly understand that. I have a tendency, when Gardel makes his way around my mp3 player, to stop what I'm doing. I still feel like moving to it - but it's not precisely that I want to dance . It's hard to think about anything else. I multitask all the time, but I can't do it when Gardel sings. It's a good thing I don't drive or I'd be pulling over every 20 songs or so. It's powerful stuff -

Technically the milonga wasn't accidental - my attendance was. I had every intention of going to the UT practica and practicing any and all of the wonderful things I learned in my lessons. I went to the building and everything! As I walked up to the Student Union with another tango dancer - a fire alarm was set off. The building was evacuated and no one was allowed back in. Obviously the tango gods did not want to me to go to the practica. So we all climbed into various vehicles (thank you A.P.!) and caravaned over to the Texas French Bread milonga (which was already enjoying a pretty nice turnout.) Once we filed in, the number increased by another third or so which made for a very festive atmosphere. Even though, in my excitement, I forgot nearly everything I learned in my lessons - it was an absolutely amazing milonga. I need practice, I really do - but in the middle of the week, when the next (weekend) milonga seems so very far away, I think I need this milonga more. So, for me

Definitions: Courtesy of Tange e vita: http://users.telenet.be/Tango-E-Vita/tangoiste/terminology.htm Tanguero (feminine; Tanguera) Refers to anyone who is deeply and seriously passionate about any part of tango, such as its history, music, lyrics, etc. In Argentina most tangueros are scholars, of lunfardo, music, orchestrations, Gardel, etc. One can be a tanguero without being a milonguero and a milonguero without being a tanguero (very few milongueros would be referred to as tangueros). And of course one can be an extremely good tango dancer without being either, such as stage dancers, who are quite disdained by real milongueros and tangueros, unless they go the extra distance and become milongueros by going to the milongas, and/or tangueros as well. An aficionado. Milonguero (feminine; Milonguera) Refers to those frequenting the milongas from the early 1900s to the present who were or are tango fanatics. A person whose life revolves around dancing tango and the philosophy of t

I had one of those ... hm... I was going to say "aha!" moments (in my tango lesson), but it was actually even more than that. It was foundational. It changed everything. My instructor asked me why I kept my hand on her shoulder blade when she led me. I told her that I was told that was the best place to "read" the lead. She answered, matter-of-factly (as she always does), 'what if I lead from lower in my body - or higher, from my upper back? You need to adjust the embrace not just for the shape of your leader, but from where in his body he's leading.' I adjusted for height, for comfort, for larger steps led - but I never consciously tried to feel where my partner was leading from in his torso. That would mean getting connected more quickly - really opening to his lead more quickly. Johanna over at Tangrila wrote about a similar predicament here: http://tangrila.blogspot.com/2009/10/wait-and-see.html . I always dance in the "wait and see" mode.

“Pursue some path, however narrow and crooked, in which you can walk with love and reverence.” Henry David Thoreau Last Saturday, the milonga at Esquina had a few more beginners than usual. This is always exciting of course - we love to see new addicts, err, I mean, faces. It does make the floor a little rougher though. The line of dance is more uncertain, the pace of dancers doesn't come together as easily. So those that were comfortable enough to do so, tended to dance milonguero. This, of course, was wonderful for me. A tanguero whose dancing I enjoy very much, asked me to dance. It wasn't until he said something in between the first and second song of the tanda, that I noticed he had been "only" walking. This particular dancer does know quite a few fancy moves, and enjoys leading them. He leads them carefully, deliberately - and he waits. Even if I have no idea in advance how to follow the step, he guides me through it. Tonight he was keeping it simple, closer. He

I have had three private lessons in the last month, from four different teachers (one lesson was with a couple - which I highly recommend.) Each lesson gave me tremendous insight into my posture, my body, and my dance. Of course now every time I dance I think too much. Shoulders down. Lower elbow. Tummy in. Relax hips. Walk on the inside of my foot. Lead with my big toe. Drop my hip. Bend knees. Relax shoulder blades. Don't lean back. Cross deeper to make more room. Be more compact. Relax and breathe... relax ... relax ... relax Saturday night I tried to put it all into motion. So many things to remember at once. I was so tired after lessons during the day - and still sore from the milonga the night before. I bandaged my toes and braced my knee, took some advil and headed out. I had to go dancing. I had to work the new information into my muscles while it was still fresh. I made it til midnight. Not bad for the shape I was in. Was I any better? I don't really know. I felt bette

Recently I wrote an article for another blog about balancing my life with my tango addiction. It was a difficult post to write. My life is not in balance. And truthfully, at times, I don't want to balance it. I want to revel in the milongas and avoid the world outside for as long as I can - the world of money problems, job stress, health issues. When times are tough economically (especially in our work relationships) it can become an "every man for himself" atmosphere and you feel that no one "has your back." Turning on the news is no help at all. There's so much uncertainty in our lives. The milonga is refuge from that. When the rest of my life makes me feel exhausted, like I'm barely able to tread water, the milonga feels like a life raft I can rest in for awhile. It's hard to give that up when the time comes, and go back to the outside world. To balance that, I have to remember the treasures I have outside. My husband, my family, my friends (amazi

Now the question circulating Tango-L is this: If traditional tango dancers and nuevo tango dancers can't get along on the milonga floor - should they hold separate milongas? In some communities this is already done. In my community it's a bit different with every milonga. As far as the music goes most of the milongas play some alternative/neotango/nuevo tango tandas toward the end of the night. Some of the more traditional dancers (not very many) prefer to sit those out. The rest of dancers either a.) dance their regular tango steps to the alternative music, or b.) dance nuevo style steps or just dance a little bigger/more open than they would to traditional music. If someone wants to dance "bigger" steps or more in the nuevo style during the traditional music, they usually move toward the middle of the floor where there's more space. That's not always the case, but most of the time it is - and it's certainly encouraged, to keep the line of dance moving

Do I write about this? I said I would talk about everything - wouldn't leave out the ugly bits or the embarrassing bits. I'll probably edit this a dozen times before I decide one way or another. Tuesday's milonga at Texas French Bread. A small but lovely crowd. I was only three tandas into the evening when the muscles under my right shoulder blade started seizing. It's annoying but not the end of the world. I made it to the end of the tanda, thanked my leader and sat down. Changing shoes I thought - can I wait it out? It might still relax on its own. . . As I bent down to put my shoes in the bag, the pain spread all the way down to my hip. It wasn't the worst it's ever been. I thought, it's manageable if I can get out of the restaurant and get on the bus, it'll be fine. I said my goodbyes to the few people sitting, and wondered one more time if it might go away on its own. I hesitated while I made my excuses to my friend. It wasn't stopping. As I got

The battle rages once again on Tango-L and Dance-Forums about the ownership and identity of tango. For better or worse, I'm jumping into the fray. With stories like these: - Unesco grants tango World Heritage status: http://www.cbc.ca/arts/music/story/2009/01/25/tango-unesco.html - Remains Found of Cafe de Hansen -- Famed Birthplace of Argentine Tango: http://www.laht.com/article.asp?ArticleId=324238&CategoryId=14093 # all eyes turn to the Rio de la Plata. Such attention is great for tango in both countries - and for the tango communities all over the world, but it also sparks the usual debates. Is there an "authentic" tango? If there is, what is it? Who dances it? There are also other specific questions that divide participants in these discussions. To be a good dancer/teacher of Argentine tango, do you have to study in Buenos Aires? Can milongas outside of Argentina and Uruguay ever be anything like the milongas of BsAs and Montevideo? Questions like those can

Apparently the subject of head position came up in a recent class. How do I know - since I wasn't in the class? The same way I find out everything else that happens in the most recent classes and/or workshops - someone instucts me on the milonga floor. Surprisingly, the position of my head had never bothered this particular partner before (we've been dancing together for over 5 months) but because it was addressed in class, it was now an issue. Fine. Something else for me to be terribly self-conscious about. Have been looking bad all this time? I normally dance with my head facing over my partner's shoulder, usually slight downward (depending on the height of my leader). Like this (that's actually me in the picture): Apparently, it's more graceful and appealing to dance like this (from Tangoandcoffee.org): I can definitely see the difference - it looks like a more confortable alignment for this couple. I'm trying it out more and more - but it simply doesn't

Tango Malena by Susana Rinaldi http://www.last.fm/music/Susana+Rinaldi/_/Malena?autostart Have I already written how much like leaders that hum? It's a silly thing, really. It annoys some dancers, or so I hear. I suppose it could be distracting - but I don't find it so. It doesn't matter if they're off key, if they know the words, if they even keep on the music. If they're humming, it's verification that the music is speaking to them (or has at least done so at some point). I don't at all mean to imply that if my partner is not humming then the music doesn't speak to him. That's certainly not the case. It's just that singing or humming along is, for some reason, soothing like a lullaby to me. On to Tango Malena.... In an earlier post I wrote about occasionally getting weepy over certain songs and Malena is one of them. I'm sentimental that way. Maybe that's why Malena is one of my favorites. The version I have is not the one that played S

Every once in awhile I hear someone make the suggestion, usually casually, lightheartedly - 'leaders and followers should have separate classes.' At first I thought, how crazy would that be? How would we learn to connect - to walk? But as I continue to take lessons, and classes, and workshops - the difference in goals and methods is becoming more and more apparent between followers and leaders. As a follower, I want to learn technique - strength, balance, connection, musicality. After all, what good is learning more patterns if I can't follow the lead. The majority (though certainly not all) of the leaders want more patterns, more steps, more variety and vocabulary to build their choreography. Of course they also want to focus on musicality - at least there's one thing we have in common. It reminds me of my ballroom classes - what few I had, anyway. We all learned the patterns together - men on one side of the room, women on the other. We danced steps back and forth to

“I am watching your chest rise and fall like the tides of my life, and the rest of it all and your bones have been my bedframe and your flesh has been my pillow I am waiting for sleep to offer up the deep with both hands” --Ani Difranco (Both Hands) "Wait" used to ring in my ears. My teachers (all three of them) constantly telling me, "wait." I was always taking off too soon. So eager to follow correctly that I was anticipating the next step - not waiting for the lead, not waiting for the music, not waiting to feel it. Now I wait. Maybe sometimes I wait too long. I think I must feel stubborn, unmovable, occasionally. I'm only listening. Sometimes I'm thinking. So I wait until I'm sure. I wait until I know if you mean here or there, this way, or that way. I've gotten maybe too enamored of waiting. A tanguero asks me to dance. I still practically jump from my seat - I'm still excited over every dance. The tanguero raises his hand and I give him mi