TangoSpam:La Vida Con Deby

Reflections...

It has been somewhat of a sad couple of weeks.  People are dying.  My dog too.  She is not a people.  But she is my companion.  A couple of weeks ago when I was at Luis' on Friday night my friend Oscar invited me to dance.

I have known Oscar for maybe 3 - 4 years.  I met him through Mimi before I moved here.  He was friends with Reuben.  Reuben was a great guy.  When I first met him, I could not understand a word he was saying. Once I imitated him for Mimi and she could not stop laughing.  I never thought I would ever understand what he was saying.  He was Porteño through and through.

When I did my tour a few years ago, he did all the transportation.  I had to have my friend Marcelo communicate with him because it was impossible for me.  Marcelo used to tell me all the time that after a year of living here I would understand him perfectly.  I had my doubts.

Then a couple of months ago maybe 3 or 4 Mimi called to tell me that Reuben was very ill.  She said his kidneys were both failing.  I was shocked.  I had just danced with him a week ago.  It did not seem possible.  He was sweating a lot, but then he was overweight.  She said it did not look good for him.

Whenever I would see Oscar or talk to Mimi I would ask about him.  This Friday was no exception. Oscar looked surprised then sad.  "Deby"  he said to me.  "Reuben passed away 2 weeks ago."  I was numb.  "I guess nobody told you."  he said.  It did not seem to bother him and he continued dancing with me.  And Marcelo was right.  After a year, I did understand him.  Completely.

My milongueros are dying.  I expect it from the ones that are in their 70s, 80s.  But Reuben was a robust man in his 60s.  He was a gentleman.  Even when he tried to put the moves on me.  I will miss him.  He was my friend.

Yesterday at Enrique's one of my friend's asked me to dance.  He started showing up at the milongas a year ago.  He told me the woman he worked for encouraged him to start dancing tango.  He fell in love with it.  He always talked about his boss.  He never mentioned her name in the milonga.  Just that he did construction and worked for her.  She had apartments.  He remodeled them and maintained them for her.  When she traveled he took care of them.

One day walking home from the bus, I noticed this sort of scruffy guy on the corner staring at me.  Nothing new there.  But then he tried to touch me.  I almost killed him with my too heavy bag.  Then I realized I knew him and smiled.  "Tranquila"  he said to me.  It turned out he was working in my barrio.

That was when I found out he worked for Robyn Ash-Rose.  I met Robyn once.  I was picking up a pizza on the way home.  She was too.  She recognized me.  "You" she said, pointing her finger at me, "dance tango."  I thought it was a little weird, but I told her, yes, that I danced tango.  She introduced herself to me.

She was from Australia - Perth.  She owned several apartments here.  She lived here 6 months of the year. She rented out her apartments.  She was thrilled to find out I lived in the barrio.  Then she brought out her book.  Shamelessly she self-promoted herself and her book.  I declined her offer to buy it.  I remember thinking she was a little daffy, but underneath it was a sweetness.

Back in the presence, in the arms of my friend.  I asked him where he had been.  He had not been around for awhile.  He gave me a strange look.  "Robyn died."  He said simply.  "Things have been crazy for me."  Then he realized I didn't know.  He apologized.  He said she died alone.  He told me she had cancer.  In the end there was no one to take care of her.  No one came to help.  She had been his boss for 2 years.  He said he could not let her be by herself.

"I made sure she had food.  I took her to the doctor's.  I came by to make sure she was alright." This was difficult for him.  "I had to go down south to see family.  I asked people to look in after her.  Her friends. She was dead for 3 days when I found her.  It was horrible."  This poor man.  I felt really sad for Robyn.  How horrible to die alone and for no one to find you for three days.

When her family came it was to divide up her property.  My friend was never thanked.  He was thrown out on the street.  The family was furious he might have legal claim to an apartment.  He didn't care about the apartment.  He cared about his friend, his boss.

I felt sad, not just for Robyn, but maybe for all of us who live here.  We have no family.  You wonder will there be someone there for us?  I don't mind being alone.  But the thought of dying alone seems so sad. I hope that Robyn has found Reuben and they are dancing that last tanda.  Desde Alma.

Anniversary Update...Version 3.0

December 8th was my 3 year anniversary living permanently in Buenos Aires.  I wasn't going to post a blog about this, but several of you very smart readers caught a reference to this in one of my posts, and wanted to know why. 

The last two years that I posted seemed like big deals.  The first year was the year that I felt, I made it.  The second year I felt settled in.  This year, I just felt like, no big deal.  I live here.  I don't see living here permanently as a major thing any more.

In three years so much has happened to me.  I left high tech and then came full circle right back into it.  When I left California, I left that life.  The life of a techie.  I was bound and determined to do something else, something less stressful.  Famous last words.  Here I am again three years later, managing a team that is developing a new product for the web.

In three years I have experienced a lot.  I moved here, bought and remodeled an apartment.  I made friends.  I had two relationships, both destroyed by the same woman.  I learned why Argentine women are so possessive and untrusting of  other women.  (Not that this will change me)  I was in a bad car accident, I was in an armed robbery.  (No I was not the robber, I was the robbee, only they didn't rob me.) 

I have received over 75 guests in my apartment.  This has been a real experience.  In California I lived alone in a 3,000 sq ft house.  In Buenos Aires I am usually with 2 people - strangers, in a 1000 sq ft apartment.  Having guests is an experience.  Mostly positive.

Sometimes you click with people and you know even if you never see them again, they will be life long friends.  People like Chris, Susan, Maren, Kenny,Lee, Jane, Lina and Danny.  There are so many it is almost impossible to mention all of them.  I miss them and when we Skype or chat, it is almost like they are here again.   This is the hard part of doing this.  The people that come to be a part of your life for 2 weeks, a month.  Then they are gone.  Transient relationships.

Then there are the others.  Thank God there have been few of them.  On the bottom end of the scale are the house guests from hell.  The ones who come here really wanting a 5 star hotel with a concierge and staff.   They complain about everything and everyone. They want Buenos Aires to be like the Paris of South America instead of being Buenos Aires in Argentina.

On the top end of the scale are the lunatics.  Unfortunately this year I had two.  Scary unbalanced women from LA.  One scary enough for me to go to the police to have her thrown out.  Their vendetta continued by posting trash about me on the Internet. Psychotics in Cyberville.

This year I was featured here in two newspaper articles in our local paper Clarin.  One in an article about foreign bloggers and the other about foreigners who have come here to live.  In both cases they wanted foreigners who had integrated into the life here and not foreigners who live here in bubbles of their own country.

I also made TV.  I was on the popular local program Mañana Vemos.  The two newspaper articles and the TV made me a minor celebrity.  People in my barrio now greet me by name.  In the local Disco supermarket a clerk shyly told me she had seen me on TV.  The Bolivians in my fruit market brag to everyone that I was in the newspaper.  Several businesses I frequent - the nail parlor, Chinese market, and even the Portero in my building keep a copy of the article to show people.

It also brought dear friends back into my life.  My friends Alejandro and Luis suddenly popped up again. We had lost contact.  They TV program jolted them back in.  Others who I had not talked to in awhile emailed or called.

The other side of this is that complete strangers come up to me on the street and start talking to me.  It is kind of weird.  In the milonga one man asked me for my autograph.  It is funny how people see you as approachable once they see you in a public manner.

Probably the saddest part for me, and one that I am still dealing with is the health of my faithful companion of 12 years; Roxie.  After going from vet to vet, she was diagnosed with cancer.  It is a tumor that is knitted into the cartilage of her nose.  They cannot operate or do radiation.  She is having chemotherapy.  Some days I wonder if this is the right choice.

She eats, she is still playful, she still walks with Juan.  But I know, when I look at her, her days are numbered and I cannot bear to think about it.  She is my dog, that I know.  But her sweetness and affection have touched many.

Death is a part of life.  In many forms we die a 1000 deaths a day.  My choice is to live.  So here I am; living each day that I can in Buenos Aires.

Sex in the City

That is the course material I use for my English classes.  I have a couple of season's worth of shows.  That along with Tales of the City compromise the DVDs I use to teach my students English.  It keeps them riveted to the screen trying to understand each word.

What is interesting to me is how they react to the DVDs.  My students are mostly in their 30s.  I have a few older and a few younger.  The women are impressed with how much freedom American women have.  "You can just talk to a man without waiting for him to talk to you first" is one of the most common comments.  "You can have sex and the man will not think poorly of you." is another.  "You can just be relaxed." is another common response.

The men however react differently.  One of my students is embarrassed to watch the shows with me.  He asks me "Is it really that easy for American women to have sex?"  Another one of my male students is surprised that when the women have sex on the first date, the men still want to see them, and the women do not always want to see the man again.  Others of my students are amused.

One day after watching one of the episodes one of my students wants to talk about this cultural divide. He wants to know is it only in New York and California that the women are like this.  (Like we have a disease or something...)  I tell him that no, mostly all over the U.S: and in Europe the women are like "this."  He is surprised.

This leads us to a discussion about dating.  I tell him, "Can you see after watching this show, why I have problems with the men here?  In the U.S. I could ask a man out if I wanted."  My student is surprised.  "What will he think of you?"  He wants to know.  I explain to him, many men are relieved.  They do not want all the responsibility, they like a woman to take the initiative.  He finds this amusing.

On Wednesday one of my Argentine woman friends and I went to a mixer at the European Club.  The European club is a mixture of all the European clubs in the city.  (The German, Danish, British, etc.) They have social events where the idea is to meet people.  My friend had expressed an interest in going, so I made the reservations and we went.

The club itself is beautiful with a spectacular view from the 21st Floor.  We walk into the main room and look around.  There are groups of 30 - 40 somethings chatting and holding drinks.  I could be anywhere in the U.S. with this scene.  My friend finds it weird.  "What are they doing?" she asks.  I want to be sarcastic and say what does it look like, but I patiently explain to her the concept of a mixer again.

She insists we sit down.  We select a couch and sit.  I look around the room.  The only people who are sitting are pairs of women.  Interesting.  As the room becomes more crowded, I explain to my friend that we need to mix, approach the men if we want to meet them.  She is horrified.

My friend is very independent but this concept eludes her.  I explain to her that is how we meet them. In her world, you must wait to be presented - like a cupcake or something.  I hate this aspect.  But we sit, and sit, and sit.  Finally I cannot stand it anymore.  I get up and go over to this guy who is eating something out of a bowl.  He is the only person in the room eating.

"Hola"  I say to him, and in Deby fashion "Que comes?"  (what are you eating) He stares up at me "Goulash."  I find that kind of funny and laugh.  He tells me it is very good and that there is food in the other room.  He introduces himself and then to his friend next to him.  Soon we are joined by another friend of theirs.  They work in computers mostly for banks.  I motion to my friend to come over. 

She finally gets up.  She is wide eyed.  She cannot believe I am doing this.  I on the other hand am having a blast.  I do not have to be this "other personality."  I can be me.  The majority of these people seem to be Argentines and not Europeans.  It doesn't matter. 

A really cute guy walks by and I smile at him.  He stops dead in his tracks.  "Do I know you?"  He asks. "No" I tell him.  "Why did you smile at me?"  He asks. I ask him, "Why not?  Is it bad to smile at someone?"  He thinks about it for a second.  "No probably not."

This results in this guy being stuck to me like gum on the sidewalk.  My friend decides he is a desperate married man.  I think no, he is a desperate divorced guy.  Probably I am correct.  We finally escape him after viewing pictures of his daughters and his car on his cellphone.

"He wanted your number." my friend says to me.  "Because you talked to him first.  You know what he was thinking."  I don't agree.  Yes, he wanted my number, but I think it was because he had some good intentions along with the others.  I am just not interested in a guy with young children.  Been there, done that.

My friend is ready to go.  She has had enough of this scene.  I can tell she does not feel comfortable here. I on the other hand am excited to find this place.  We talk about it on the subte.  She has known me for awhile.  We have talked a lot about my living here, the issues with men.  She is Argentine and has the same issues.  Very independent, self sufficient. 

"You are used to this."  She tells me.  " I am not."  I realize that the women sitting on the couches and waiting were Argentine women, waiting for the men to come to them.  They sat all night with frozen smiles. I mention this to my friend.  Of course not all the Argentine women were this way.  I heard many accents and languages that night.  It was like, well, goulash.

It's funny, but once an Argentine male friend of mine told me he was finally beginning to understand me. "I am watching Sex in the City."  He said to me.  Maybe I should make it a prerequisite to all my new dating partners.

A First Night In Buenos Aires

It is 8:30 Friday night.  I am not sure what to wear.  For a woman who owns way too many clothes, how can I be sick of everything I have to wear?  I am contemplating all black vs partial black vs no black.  Partial black wins out with the glittery halter dress bought in Plaza Serrano.  It is my Marilyn look.  Before I start to dress the phone rings.

"Hola Deby, habla con Antonio."  "Damn, Antonio who? " I think to myself.  "Hola que tal?"  I say as I try to figure out who Antonio is.  "Como estas" he continues.  "Bien, por suerte"  I answer.  "I know too many men." I am thinking.  Finally he comes clean.  He is from Cleveland and a friend of Joanne and Timmy's. He and his friend are in town for a week.  I ask him if they want to go to the milonga with me. They are estatic.  A milonga with Deby.  I tell them to meet me at my apartment at 10 and we will go from there.

Sandra has her company Christmas party.  So it will be just me and this couple.  The other guests in my apartment Lina and Danny are meeting some friends from California.  At 10 Antonio - ne Tony, and his lovely friend Donna are downstairs waiting for me.  Like Timmy and Joanne, they exude that midwestern kindness.

They just arrived today.  They are both excited to be here.  It is their first trip to tango mecca.  We chat in the taxi all the way to Leonesa.  I am trying to explain the milonga and all the codigos while pointing out landmarks of interest to them.  I was probably a tour director in my last life.

We exit the taxi.  I forget how impressive this building is to first timers.  They love the architecture. When we get to the front door I am greeted by the guard in front and several other people.  As we climb the staircase, Donna remarks to Tony "Wow, our first milonga in Buenos Aires."  They are so sweet.  After we pay, I am greeted by several more men.  "Hola Linda,"  "Que inolvidable sos" they say to me. I smile and greet them back.  We enter the milonga and wait for Luis to seat us.

They are looking round the room.  A beautiful wood floor, lots of tables, tango music.  I see the milonga through their eyes and remember my first time here.  I was mesmerized.  Today, is the 3rd year anniversary of my coming to live in Argentina, and it was 7 years ago that I made my first trip here.  How life changes.

Luis comes up to us.  We go through our traditional dance he and I. "Negrita, no tengo nada, hay nada."  He pretends to walk away.  I pretend to get mad. "Porque no tienes nada?"  I demand.  We go back and forth, but I know, he is waiting for a big kiss from me.  Then all of a sudden there is a table for me.  Like always.  "Sigue la rubia" he tells me as we follow the chica who helps him.  We are seated at a table at the other end of the milonga.

Tony and Donna are like wide eyed children.  They are looking around at the dancers, the place.  When the waitress comes, Tony asks for pop - that is midwestern for soda and Donna wants a blush wine.  Time to explain we are in Buenos Aires.  We decide that we will have champagne.

Tony dances with Donna.  He dances with me.  I dance with a few other men.  There is really no one here I want to dance with.  The few men I do want to dance with are at the other end of the floor.  There are so many women, it will take them forever to work their way to me.  I do not want to stay that late.  I tell Donna and Tony we should go to Gricel.  Donna says she is tired.  I imagine she is.  I tell her once she has a cortado she will pick right up.

We leave Leonesa for Gricel.  In the taxi I point out some of the architectural gems in Boedo.  We  pull up to Gricel.  When we walk in the door, I am greeted immediately.  People always tease me about this. Eva and Susan said going to a milonga with me was like going with a movie star, Lina and Danny call me the Godmother of tango.  I always shrug this off.  I know lots of people.  I have always been that way.  The rush of people who greet me does not escape Tony and Donna.

At first they want to seat me at a table that will be impossible to find dances.  I tell her no.  The hostess shrugs and starts around the floor.  She was testing me.  As we make our way I am stopped constantly by friends.  "Negrita, que haces aca?"  I do not usually come to Gricel on Friday nights.  Just as we turn the corner I hear a voice boom at me "Donde vas Deby?"  It is Mimi.

She is at a table of her students and some friends.  The friends grab me to greet me.  Her current fan club who help her in her classes do not greet me.  They are sullen.  I find this amusing.  I am not sure why these people always resent me.  It isn't like I hang out in Mimi's classes trying to be her teaching assistant.  They are more than welcome to have this honor.

Finally we are seated at a decent table.  Donna and Tony's eyes are riveted on the dance floor.  Tony comments that the dancing is so much different here.  I imagine so, they live in Cleveland.  I point out the dancers who I think dance well.  While talking to them I am invited to dance.

When I finish the tanda I notice that Tony and Donna are not at the table.  They are also dancing.  When they come back we talk about classes.   I mention some teachers for them to check out.  Donna has perked right up with her cortado.  When a tanda of "rock" comes on, they are amazed like all Americans are that the Argentines dance East Coast Swing to Creedence Clearwater.  I guess that is like Americans dancing tango to Nirvana. 

I cannot stay at the table long.  I am greeting friends and dancing.  In the last month or so my dance card seems to get filled up rather fast.  Not sure why.  Summer has always been a special time for me.  I seem to be happier when the weather is warmer.  I sit and talk with Mimi a while.   She asks about Felipe, I tell her hasta la vista.  Comehombre broke that one up too.  ComeHombre is what Sandra and I call a woman in the milongas famous for breaking people up. I thought she was my friend. I was wrong. The sad thing she never really wants the man, she just wants to break up the couple.  I tell Mimi, "I don't really miss him.  But my hair does."  She laughs.

I head back to the table.  Donna and Tony finally look tired.  "Ready to go?"  I ask them.  They are.  With big smiles on their faces.  Their first night in Buenos Aires.

The Gods...they must be crazy

Remember that movie?  Maybe not.  Well here, the investors are like Gods.  Argentina went for too long without foreign investment.  Then all of a sudden Argentina was hot.  Every time you pick up some travel piece they are talking about Buenos AIres as the new hip happening place, and it's cheap too.

OK, fine.  That will pass.  People will get tired of the dog doo doo on the sidewalks, black exhaust pouring out of noisy buses, and their inability to be understood if they don't speak Spanish.  What will not pass is the plethora of tower apartments destroying the barrios.

In a 2 block radius in any direction from my apartment they are building ugly tower apartments.  To the right are twin towers on Paraguay.  Around the corner is another tower.  To the left a block down another new tower is being planned, a block over on Oro is another, on Uriarte a 35 story ugly monstrosity just keeps getting taller and uglier each day.  On Thames, they just destroyed an incredible stone building.  The inside and outside was impeccable.  I watched them demolish beautiful hardwood, marble, and intricate moldings - to make way for another ugly modern tower.

On Thames was a store that used to house a ceramic seconds business.  That was kicked out. They are building 5 floors on top of the original store which will have 10 apartments.  The problem here is that sewer lines, electrical lines, gas lines, and water, were all meant for a single unit.  Now 10 units need to share those single lines.  (Bet you would just love to buy one of those!!)

In addition to the towers, there are the regular sized apartments.  They are multiplying like rabbits.  Every time you turn around a new building is going up with 16 - 25 units.  They brag about solariums,  laundry, cable for Internet, and lots of other extras. 

A restaurant was destroyed to make room for a new Apart Hotel for tourists.  1 building - a restaurant. Now to share all the same utility lines but among how many rooms?  Kind of scary if you ask me.

Now, all of this might be OK if they were building for some kind of phenomenal demand.  If people were clawing at each other to buy a coveted apartment.  The sad part is they are not.  The tower apartments are priced so high (and for poor construction) that the average Argentine would never buy one even if they could afford it.  Prices of $70,000 for a studio on the 1st, 2nd, or 3rd floor and the prices get higher as the units get larger or are on higher floors.  They aren't cheap.....and they aren't selling.

The building that opened a year ago on Thames is still half empty.  The sign proclaiming "last units available" has been propped up against the fence since the day they opened the doors.  Those apartments cost less than the new units going up.  Who is going to buy those?  Or the ones in Belgrano? Or Caballito? Puerto Madera? And everywhere else in the city.

The apartment building behind me converted to a boutique hotel.  The ones down the block now have a big sign enticing buyers to purchase to rent to foreigners.  There are tons of signs on apartments "For Rent" and many more "For Sale".  No one wants to live near these towers, many people are unable to rent their apartments.

Yet, they just keep building like people are rioting to buy.  What are they thinking?  Walk through the neigborhood.  You have to start thinking differently.  That is the business analyst in me.  I saw the mortgage crisis in the U.S.  It just happened a little later than I expected.  I have always been paid to find problems.  I see lots of problems.

Businesses that have been established, that were here during the crisis are now going out of business. Their rents were raised and they could not afford to move.  A couple of years ago when a business vacated its storefront it was go to another that was bigger and better located.  Within days another business moved in.  That is not happening anymore.  The storefronts are staying empty.  Maybe not in the heart of Palermo, Recoleta, and Belgrano, but everywhere else I see it.

Last Saturday when we taxied back from the milonga Sandra and I were shocked at how many empty storefronts there were on Scalabrini.  This morning walking Roxie I counted several on Thames, and this is Palermo.  Not a good sign.

Our new president-elect, Christina, must be crazy - Goddess or not.  She will be inheriting a country with high inflation and a crumbling infrastructure.  There new construction has put a major strain on electricity, gas, and water.  No one is buying....yet....they continue to build.  Those Gods, must be crazy.

Take Back The Night.........

I walk into Club Gricel.  It is Monday night.  I am told by the host Patricio that I will not have my regular table tonight.  It appears that there are two groups of tourists who have come to have dinner and watch tango.  The majority of them do not dance.  I think in all there are 75 of them.  Instead of my usual table I am stuck against the wall in the back.  I look around.  It is the same with almost all the regulars.  We are stuck against the wall.

The tables in front with few exceptions, and the best tables, are filled with people who are visiting Buenos Aires.  People who do not dance tango.  People who will never come back here again after tonight.  They are eating dinner and talking amongst themselves.  The locals are trying to figure out what happened.

It becomes obvious as the night goes on, the tables are not being reserved for us.  They are going to foreigners.  The floor is packed with people who cannot dance, can barely dance, or are trying to dance. Alberto invites me for a milonga.  I don't really like milonga that much, and I am not sure dancing with him is going to make me like it much better. 

We go out to the floor.  Before we even start to dance a couple bangs into me.  We start to move and the woman behind me kicks me.  This is doing nothing to put me in a good mood.  Alberto starts to lecture me about traspie.  I keep my mouth shut.  I want to tell him to stop yanking my right arm back and forth like a slot machine.  After two songs we stop.  It is impossible to dance on this floor.

I go back to the table.  Lina and Danny are there.  Smiling as usual.  They are having a great time.  They took the class and are content to just watch.  We order waters and Danny orders a beer.  I look around.  The locals are against the wall.  There are few smiles. 

I see Dario.  He smiles at me and comes to the table.  "Linda, que linda sos"  he says to me.  He asks me to dance.  He is a teacher that I have not seen for a long time.  I am amazed at how well he is able to navigate the floor.  Just before the song ends a woman tangles her leg in mine.  It is so amazing that Dario and I burst into laughter.  "I guess she wanted to do a gancho"  I say to him.

He tells me he has been teaching all over South America and Europe.  He asks if I am still teaching.  I tell him no.  I am just dancing.  He is surprised.  When the tanda ends he asks if he can take me to lunch on Sunday.  "Maybe we can talk about your teaching." he says to me.  I am sure he has more than just teaching on the brain. 

The floor is impossible.  Lina and Danny don't notice.  They get up to dance.  Two guys I know who are regulars sit down in their chairs.  They want to talk.  "What do you think about this?"  they ask looking at the room.  I decide to play dumb.  "What?"  Beto rolls his eyes.  "Why are you at this table in the back where none of us can see your pretty face?  Why are you not at your table."  he asks.  I shake my head.

They are more sad than angry.  Soon my table is filled with guys.  I am actually surrounded by them.  OK, this is not all that unusual, but they want to talk.  It is kind of funny since what they want to talk about is the tourists who have taken over this milonga.  It is only 11:00 and I notice that many of the locals have left early.

I see my former partner come in.  He sees me and goes to the other side of the room.  How interesting. It is has been a little more than a year since we saw each other.  He never comes to the milongas I go to.  He stays on his side of the room.  I decide I want to drink a glass of champagne.

Dario invites me to dance again.  It is nice to dance with him.  He is smooth.  He dances well.  He keeps telling me how I am going to love the place he is taking me to lunch at.  I keep thinking how I have not actually said yes.  He compliments me on my giro.  I decide it is nice to dance with him.  It feels good.

I go back to the table and drink more champagne.  Lina and Danny are off again.  More men sit down to complain.  I am thinking about the database in my project and the stored procedures that need to be written.  Better than trying to figure out why my ex has come to this milonga.

Then he comes over this way.  He goes to talk to people at a table near mine.  I keep thinking about the database.  He makes a move to walk by me.  I am on the aisle. I stick my leg out to block him.  I want to see what he will do.  Our relationship did not end on a positive note.  He stops and looks at me.  He says hello. We stare at each other.  Then he bends to kiss me.  He stares again and moves on.

Everyone at the table is looking at me.  I drink my champagne.  Jorge comes over and rubs my shoulder. I say nothing.  No one knows what to say.  Including me.  So I say nothing.  I watch the room.  I decide to get up and go greet some of the people I know who have just come.

Everyone is incredulous at how they have become displaced persons.  I go back to my table.  Finally at one of the men says "It's all about money."  The others nod in agreement.  "Soon the milongas will be full of tourists.  We will have no where to dance."  No one says anything.

The Milonga Chronicles....en el barrio

Sandra calls me on Saturday afternoon.  "Tengo ganas a salir" she tells me, "Pero no tengo plata."  (I feel like going out but I don't have any money.)  It is the end of the month.  Most Argentines don't have any money.  The 1st fell on Saturday which means people will not be paid until Monday.  The milongas at the end of the month are usually empty.  Especially now with the recent raise of prices.

She tells me that there is a free milonga in a school in Caballito near Parque Centenario.  Her friend Eva called her to tell her about it.  She has no idea how it will be, only that it is free.  It turns out, the government sponsors these free milongas for the people.  In various schools around the city, there are free milongas.

Eva tells her they are usually quite crowded.  The people come from the barrio.  They are always at the end of the month.  "Let's check it out."  she tells me.  "It can't be any worse than a night at Luis' where we don't dance."  I tell her I have guests staying with me.  I need to ask them.

Danny and Lina are from the Bay Area.  It is their first trip to Buenos Aires.  They are cruising the world - literally.  Since Danny retired they go on cruises in between their trips to the Phillipines.  They dance tango, ballroom, and many other dances.  They are wonderful, wonderful guests.  Tango is not that important to them.  Seeing Buenos Aires is.

I ask them if they would like to go to a real barrio milonga.  I explain to them this is a milonga of the people.  I tell them I have no idea what to expect.  I only know that there will be no tourists, no name brand teachers.  Only what we call "gente comun."  They are enthusiastic.  "Yes", they both sound out. To them this is a treat.  "We want to see how people live here."

Sandra rings my bell at 9:00 pm.  We go down to meet her.  We had planned to take a bus to the milonga.  Danny tells us no, he thinks a cab would be fine.  They will treat us.  Under most circumstances this would be normal for my guests.  But Danny and Lina are not normal guests.  They hopped on colectivos the first day they came.  They are the most adventuresome guests I have had.  So it was a surprise when Danny wanted to take a taxi.

We arrive at the school.  There does not seem to be many people.  It is an elementary school.  The desks and chairs are for little people.  We push two desks together and bring 5 chairs together.  I look around, the people attending this milonga are not the same people I have seen at any other milonga.  They remind me of the people at the milongas in the province.

The music is wonderful.  Surprisingly so is the sound system.  Eva arrives.  She is an older woman.  I recognize her from Celia's.  Like Sandra she is enamored with Lina and Danny.  We have renamed them Danilo and Divina.  They try very hard to speak their few words in Spanish. Both are so sweet it is impossible to not adore them.

Danny insists on buying a bottle of wine and bottles of water for the table.  I go with him to the room where they are selling drinks.  First he speaks his version of Spanish, and then I translate for the girls selling the drinks and empanadas.  Ever the gentleman, he wants to carry everything back to the table himself.  I do not let him.

As we listen to the music, more and more people begin to arrive.  The place is filling up fast.  I have never seen any of these people.  Sandra teases me, "Che, no conoces nadie?"  she asks me.  (You don't know anyone) It is always a joke with my friends.  I always seem to know people everywhere.  It is just how I am.  Since the tv show and the Clarin article I am a very minor celebrity.  (Very minor)

We watch people dance.  Clearly these people do not spend hours in lessons, they do not have 300 peso tango shoes.  These people learned from their family - a father, an aunt, maybe a cousin.  No one here qualifies for Forever Tango.  Yet it doesn't matter.  Here is the heart of the tango.  People are dancing because it is tango.

Lina and Danny are surprised to see many young people here.  There are children, teenagers, and young adults, all dancing.  A father is dancing with his young daughter.  A grandmother with her grandson.  There is no one here I would choose to dance with.  Sandra either.  Besides being with two people who are not obviously from here, we stand out.

Me as blondie.  In my clothes.  My shoes from leo.  I am me.  A clothes-a-holic.  I usually do stand out, but even more so here.  Sandra too.  Her shoes, her hair, and the way she is dressed.  Danny is dancing with each of us women.  Poor guy, we are going to kill him in this heat.  Sandra asks Lina if she minds lending her husband to 3 other women.  She laughs "Oh no, he needs to practice."  Sandra and Eva marvel at how sweet she is, and not jealous.  Different culture.  This probably would not happen here.

Men are inviting Sandra and I to dance.  I am so used to turning men down, that I do it here as well.  Finally we decide we should try to dance.  Sandra goes off with a tall man who has been staring at both of us all night.  I go off with an old guy.  Siempre.  (Always)

My old guy is a disaster.  I am afraid he is going to lead me into a wall.  I want to kill him.  I cannot.  He is so sweet.  After each song, he asks me if I am ok.  He is so nice.  None of the ego you find in the regular milongas.

When we return to the table I ask Sandra about her dance.  She tells me he was not good, but he was not bad.  Just OK.  I tell her that my guy was a disaster, but really really nice.  We watch the dancers.  By now the school has completely fill up.  Dancers have spilled out onto the school yard and are dancing in the warm night.

It is funny to watch the mini-novelas going on.  A trio of guys walk in.  They are trying hard to have the "look."  They wear suits.  They are trying to look like name brands.  We guess.  Sandra and I smile.  One guy has these white shoes.  They are terrible.  "He looks like he makes ice cream"  Sandra comments.  He probably does.  There is none of the ego swagger you find at Canning or La Nacional.  It is much sweeter.

We watch them dance.  They are not bad.  More young people come.  Who is it that says "Young people in Argentina do not dance tango"  or who is it that says "Young people in Argentina do not dance close embrace".  You would never know it in this milonga.  There are just as many young people under 30 here (and 20 and even 10) as there are people over 60, 70. 

The tall man who danced with Sandra continues to eye me to dance.  Finally I accept.  I meet him on the floor.  (Americans would hate this place with the regulation school linoleum.  No fine wood floor here.) He is as Sandra says.  Not good, not bad. But very very nice.

When the first song ends he says to me that he does not know how to dance.  I tell him that he dances well enough, not to worry.  He smiles.  I tell him my friend told me the same thing.  That makes him happy.  After the third song  "He says to me "Usted es una milonguera."  I laugh.  "Yes,"  I tell him.  I suppose so.He says that he is so happy to have danced with both Sandra and I.  There is such a clean gentle honesty to his statement.

We stay for 3 hours.  We watch the people.  I think Lina and Danny are bored.  Sandra and I talk.  We decide to check Canning out. Neither of us has been there on a Saturday in years.  As we leave there is a table full of what looks like packages of candies or breath mints.  What a surprise!  They are condoms and lube!  There are notices from the government telling people to use condoms.

Sandra pretends to scoop them up into her purse.  I check out the brands and types. I grab several.  I tell her, maybe I will tell them at Canning this is my entrada.  She and Eva laugh.  "Sos loca." they tell me.  As we head out the door, I bump into my friend Pablo.  I have known him for years.  He was one of the first people I met. He is delighted and surprised to see me.  Sandra rolls her eyes.  She says to Eva "Siempre este chica conoce alguien."  (She always knows someone)

"¡Que porteña sos! he says as he hugs and kisses me.  He lives a few blocks from this milonga.  He admits he has no money and that is why he is here.  We chat a bit and promise to get together for coffee.  He shakes his head.  "¡Que porteña sos! as we walk away.