Last week I was talking to the woman who owns Bien Porteño. She sometimes shares my table in Gricel on Monday nights. I have known her brother Armando for years. We have other Argentine friends in common. I mentioned to her how much I thought the tango had changed. “No,” she told me. “The tango has not changed. You have changed. The magic is not there for you anymore. Now, you know the tango.”
I have since thought about what she said. In some ways I agree with her, but in many ways I do not. Yes, I have changed. When I first came here I was overwhelmed by the milongas in Buenos AIres. (The milonga is the place where people go to dance tango.) I thought everyone could dance. I know now this is not even close to being true. I loved the idea of being able to dance as much as I wanted. I would start my day at an afternoon milonga dancing at 4 in the afternoon and not stop dancing until 4 or 5 in the morning. I could do this 7 days a week until my feet could no longer take it. I remember telling people I felt like the little mermaid in the morning. It felt like knives were stabbing my feet with every step I took.
It didn’t matter. Armed with bottles of ibuprofen, buckets of ice water, and salt, I would deal with my swollen feet, refusing to rest them. I had to dance. The men were waiting for me in the milongas. That is what they told me. I would eagerly rush to the milongas looking for them to dance with. Patiently, they would help me with my dance. I was learning in the style of the milongueros. I was mesmerized by the milonga culture. I didn’t want to spend time in classes. I didn’t learn well that way. I learned by watching, listening, and being corrected.
In the arms of some old guy I would get a music lesson. In the U.S. you dance the same to every song; people dance tango to vals, a tango variation to milonga – the same steps to everything. Here in Buenos Aires I was told that you dance differently to each orchestra. Long back steps to DiSarli, more giros to D’arienzo. It was exciting. There was so much to learn and the milonga was my teacher.
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