TangoSpam:La Vida Con Deby

Absolutely Crazy

One of the more interesting things about learning a new culture, is that you also learn more about your own culture.  At least that is what has been happening to me.  The more I learn about the Argentine culture the more I learn or realize about American culture.

One of the more difficult things for me to understand about Argentine culture is that the Argentine outlook on life is that there is no future, and there is no past.  There is only the present.  People live in the present.

They believe so strongly in this, that they do not even use the future tense.  When they talk of the future many times they use the present tense. A friend might ask, "Where are you tomorrow?"  The answer being "Tomorrow I am in Olivos" rather than "Tomorrow I will be in Olivos."  If the future is really needed, then they use the verb ir which means to go, with an infinitive.   "Tomorrow I am going to be in Olivos."

My friends say that this is because the past history of the country has been bad and they cannot depend on the future. So live for today.  This attitude permeates almost everything people do.  On one side, the man I work with could not understand the programing team he hired.  He gave them all a small percentage of the company.  This is how businesses in the U.S. operate whether it be with stock or an ESOP retirement plan.  The guys really did not care.  The only thing they care about is the pesos they have today.  That is something they can count on.  The future is not.

On a more personal level, it drives me crazy.  Now that I at least understand the mindset, I can deal with it.  I remember once when a guy I was going out with did something ugly to me, I wanted to talk about it.  "No," he told me, "that was then. It's nothing. Forget it."  (Hay que nada) It was not nothing to me.  I insisted we talk about it.  I remember telling him if we don't talk about this, it will just happen again.  "The past is the future."  I said to him.  He thought I was crazy.  "The past is the past.  It is over.  How can the past be the future?" he said to me giving me that you are a crazy woman look. 

Forget him saying he was sorry, that is another thing that really doesn't happen all that much here.  In fact my Argentine friends who have lived in the U.S. make fun of us for saying I am sorry so much. "I'm sorry, "I'm sorry" they mimic.  In the end the ugly thing he did to me happened again, and that was the end of the relationship.  At least for me.  Worse, he doesn't understand why.

What this made me realize is that while Argentines live in the present, Americans live in the future.  The past is over, done, it is time to look forward - new beginnings.  How many times have we heard that?  We never work for the present, everything is for the future, retirement, savings, buying a house, going on vacation.  My Argentine friends are more preoccupied with what we will do tonight than thinking about the future.

When I talk about here, people ask me "Why do you like it here so much? What is good about being here."  It is a question that always surprises me, because to me it should be obvious about what is so good about living here. 

There is a lot to be said for both mindsets.  My Argentine friends enjoy life.  They take each day as it comes.  No one makes these "cast in cement" plans.  There is always room for one more.  So what if you are a little late, the world won't stop.  If you need something, there always seems to be someone who can help or someone who has the answer or someone who knows someone who does.

Today is Good Friday.  My phone rang all day.  It was friends calling to ask me how I am, what am I up to these days.  Did I have somewhere to go for Easter?  Tonight we are celebrating Helen's birthday.  I told her that I think 15 people will be coming.  "I don't even know 15 people here." she said to me.  Not important.  Between Sandra and I we found 15 people who wanted to come party with us at Gricel.  That is just the way it is here. 

Walk into an Argentine restaurant.  You see many large groups of friends.  It is not unusual to see tables of 10 people.  Everyone talking, laughing, having a good time.  Not just young people.  People of all ages.  You see tables of 4 or 5 women or men, friends out for the evening.  Rarely do you see a table of 1 person.   It is hard to be alone here.

Contrast that with the life back in the U.S.  There is this mania for privacy.  People do not answer their phones.  They email their friends rather than talk to them.  You want to go to dinner with friends, you need to plan it 2 months in advance.  Here you just do it.  I cannot imagine scheduling a dinner with my friends 2 months in advance.  We always invite each other to come with us, if we have something else to do.  There is no calling the other person to make sure it is alright.

I have had to change and adapt to many things.  As someone from the U.S. and especially San Francisco, we are so into being politically correct, introspective.  I remember the first time Felipe made fun of my Spanish "Hablas como una China" he said to me.  Everyone thought that it was funny.  People call each other "Gordo (Fatty), Flaco (Skinny), Chino (if your eyes are narrow), Negro (if you are dark complected)".  No one is ever offended.

Caring about someone's feelings is a good thing.  That is why Americans are politically correct.  It is why they want to discuss things.  If the stupid guy I was seeing would have cared enough to discuss why he hurt my feelings, maybe we would still be friends.  But sometimes, too much of a good thing is a bad thing.  When a young child falls down and hurts them self, only the parents or a relative may comfort them.  Everyone else is afraid of being accused of sexual abuse.  A doctor cannot comfort an accident victim without fear of being sued.  Some of my American male friends tell me they never tell their female co-workers they look nice for fear of being accused of sexual harassment.  Oh my God, an Argentine man would die if he could not spew comments about a woman.

It is funny, I have become a complainer like many of my Argentine friends.  Of course they don't see it that way.  Some are worse than others.  I don't know why, but they always see the negative.  Again, part of the history, part of the culture.  Americans always see the positive. Ask an Argentine what they think about something and you will get a barrage of everything they don't like.  Ask an American and you will get the opposite, they will tell you all the good things.  We were always taught "If you can't say anything good about someone, don't say anything at all."  Unlike Argentines who are never afraid to voice their opinion.  (As long as it isn't about them)

These are things that drive the Americans (as well as others from English speaking countries) absolutely crazy.  It is why for me I love it here so much.

3,280 ...and the Hits Keep Coming

No I am not talking about Phil Spector, I am talking about the hits to my blog in the last 3 days.  As of now at 7:10 am BA time, that is how many people have come to my blog.  On Saturday morning when I went to check my blog specs I already had almost 300.  That is not normal for a Saturday morning before 10 am.  Most of the time I only average that on a daily basis.

I went to look at where all these hits were coming from.  The link was to the New York Times Sunday Travel Section.  Imagine my surprise to find that Denny Wells the author had mentioned my blog as a resource.  Not only that, I was the only blog he mentioned.  I have never met the author but wow! thanks Denny for the positive press.

Of course every time I end up in the media I get tons of email.  So far I have received over 150 emails.  Yes, I look at each one.  No I don't answer all of them.  Some of the emails I receive are amazing.  I cannot believe that people actually take the time to write some of the stuff they do.

This time I got a lot of email from Gay men.  All of them sent really nice messages.  Most wanted to know if they could stay with me when they come to B.A.  Some of their comments were hilarious.  The ones that had been here before loved my two blog posts about the men.  It is interesting, their experiences were similar.  One fellow told me he thought all the men in Buenos Aires were narcissistic sociopaths, another emailed that he found sex very boring with them.

I received emails from a ton of people who seem to think that I am the cyber version of the tourist information booth.  People sent requests for apartments, tickets for concerts, requests for restaurants, where to buy leather, dance tango, and who to take lessons from. 

There were a small group of people who emailed saying they too were leaving their country to either come here or somewhere else.  Their own stories were interesting.  Others were planing to leave and wanted advice.

Then the crazies - they come with every bunch of emails.  This time they have not been so bad.  I had a few men want to do bizarre things to my body.  No marriage proposals this time.  Women who email me weird life stories.   There are a lot of lonely people out there.

I never thought moving to Buenos Aires would make me somewhat of a media darling.  When  I was 17 I had these dreams of being famous.  The closest I got in my old life was being quoted in VarBusiness and Computer Reseller News among other trade magazines in my high tech days.  Then there was the time I was the Today Sponge sound byte.

Since moving here I have been in countless interviews  including our local newspaper the Clarin twice and on Mañana Vemos on channel 7.  The interviews outside Argentina are countless and I continue to be contacted.  It is amazing.  All this because I decided to write a blog.

While there is a positive side to this, there is also the other side.  On a very very small scale I can really feel what famous people must go through.  Argentines stare at me.  (More than normal) People still come up to me in the subte, on the street, and say they saw me on TV or in the newspaper. Some even tell me they read my blog.  Others just start talking to me as if I know them.  They know my name, my dog's name.  Most people are really nice, and proud that I love my life here.  Then there are the others. The ones that tell me to go back home.  (I am  home, you idiot) The ones that grab me and try to touch me.  The ones that have some sort of weird agenda.

On the tango side, there are the normal people who read my blog.  People come up to me in milongas and just start talking to me or taking pictures and videos.  At first it was sort of freaky.  Now I am used to it.  One woman told me "You belong to us.  We feel as though we know you."  Sometimes those people can be a little overzealous, but they are mostly super nice.

Then there are the jealous hostile ones.  Oh yesssss there are.  The ones that call me "middle age".  Is that supposed to hurt me?  The ones that have to make their comments about every facet of my life.     I find the whole thing rather funny myself. Sticks and stones....

Writing a blog is an incredible experience.  It is amazing the power blogs now have.  My friends beg me to write about them.  Some of my guests as well ask to be written about.  Once when ending a relationship, the man wanted me to promise I would not write about him in my blog!!  My blog has brought me great joy.  I love to write.  I always have.  I keep hoping that one day I can turn this blog into a book.  Thanks to all of you for reading me.  Beso!

The Milonga Chronicles...Juan More Time...

"Please come to Juancito's with me."  Sandra begs.  I do not want to go to Juan's.  I want to wait and just go to Gricel.  "There is no one to dance with there."  I tell her.  "I just want to go to Gricel."  Sandra wants to go to Juan's new milonga.  I do not.  She wants to see if Capo Lento is there.  "If you go to Juan's with me, I will pay for the taxi to Gricel." she says.  I sigh.  I am about to say ok when she throws in "Come on, we will take the subte and we only pay half price to get in, and I will buy you a glass of champagne."  Dare I ask for a miga as well?  "OK, fine."  I say to her.  The things I do for my friends.

We meet in the subte station.  We always time it perfectly.  We walk to the station the same time.  When she boards the train she calls me to let me know about what car she is in.  When the train stops in Plaza Italia, she runs out and waves her arms.  I either run to her car or just jump into the train.  At Scalabrini if we are parted she will run to join me.  Are we crazy or what?  Two women all dressed up running around like lunatics in the subte station.

We end up a car apart until Scalabrini.  Then she runs to my car. People must think we are crazy.  Well we are.  I am telling her about my latest relationship disaster.  It really wasn't a disaster.  I dumped him before it came one.  I am starting to get good at this.  If you can't beat'em, join'em.

We get to the milonga.  As soon as we enter Juancito comes to greet us.  I think he is shocked we are here.  I look around.  There are maybe 25 people here.  Most are men, and most are not dancing.  It doesn't really matter.  I don't want to dance with any of them anyway.  "No me matas, por favor."  Sandra says to me.  (Don't kill me please) Before I can answer, she says in her best English.."shut up."  I roll my eyes.

Sandra tells me the man across from me can dance.  I am not sure whether or not to believe her.  I accept a dance with him during the 3rd song of the tanda.  He is OK.  He asks me all the usual questions, where am I from, do I like Argentina, where did I learn to dance tango, and who were my teachers.  I tell him I really never took many classes.  He tells me not to worry, that I will still learn to dance. What? I think he is trying to be nice, but it is sort of funny.  I want to laugh if anything.

Finally Sandra's friend comes.  She is happy.  He sits across from us.  He invites her to dance.  Her whole face lights up.  My friend Mecha, joins us at the table.  She is from Brasil and lives here.  We always make fun of ourselves as the permanent tourists.

I beg Sandra, can we please go.  I want to dance.  I want to go to Gricel.  Mecha wants to stay.  She says she will go on to Canning.  I will go alone if no one wants to go with me.  Sandra talks to her friend.  He says he will drive us there.

Sandra's friend is mystified why I want to live here.  "It's dirty.  Buenos Aires is filty."  he says to me.  I agree with him, it is dirty.  "The people have no respect." he continues.  Well, not too sure about that. "Did you come here for a man?"  He asks.  Oh no, how do I respond to that.  OK, pure Deby.  I tell him what I think about the men here.  He finds it humorous.  "I will find you a boyfriend."  He says to me.  "I will present you with 6 men.  I have a feeling you are pretty demanding."

We enter Gricel.  Sandra and I go to one table and our friend to another.  It is crowded.  we reject almost every table until the moza asks if we want to sit at this table. We are at the table of Juan.  For me Juan is the best dancer here on Fridays.  He is a little crazy too.  I always have to beg for a dance.  Once he stopped dancing with me and when I asked him why he told me I needed to find someone younger and more handsome than him.  "Idiot"  I said to him.  "I just want to dance with you, not marry you."

I dance with a few men I know.  Sandra too.  I notice this guy sitting against the wall starring at me.  He looks vaguely familiar.  I do not want to dance with him.  I am tired of bad dancers.  Tonight I am going to be my picky self.

Then Juan comes in.  It is almost 1:30 AM. Juan comes to his table where we are seated.  "What are all these people doing at my table?" he booms out.  Everyone ignores him.  Sandra looks at me.  I give her a "don't worry about it" look.  "This is my table" Juan declares, "and who is sitting in my seat?"  Just like Papa bear!  The older gentleman next to me tells him "Mario is sitting there."  "Get rid of Mario."  Juan insists.  He tells Rosaria the waitress to get rid of all the people at his table.

Sandra says to me we should move.  I tell her no, don't worry about it, this is just Juan.  Rosaria brings another chair to the table and puts it at the head.  Juan sits down mumbling about this being his table. Never mind it is an hour and half past the time for tables to be reserved.  I smile at Juan.  "Thank you for letting me sit at your table Juan."  I say to him.  "I am so proud to sit with you."  He stares at me and then begins to laugh.  Rosaria brings his bottle of wine.

Juan invites me to dance.  My pleasure.  He never invited me to dance before.  Then the older gentleman at the table insisted he dance with me.  That was one tanda from heaven.  Juan dances.  Juan dances well and with passion.  And, he makes me beg.  Some nights I can stare at him all night long and he ignores me. He stopped dancing with me for a month, told me to go find someone younger and more handsome.  Milonga games.

After the tanda he sits me down.  The Viejo next to me asks me if I enjoyed my dance.  "Claro que si!" I say to him.  I notice the guy against the wall is still looking at me.  Instead I choose to dance with the Viejo next to me.  It is a milonga.  He dances the traspie nicely.

I return to the table.  Sandra has also been dancing.  We try to talk, but with Juan at the table it is impossible.  He jabbers constantly in a loud voice.  He is funny.  He has comments about everyone and everything.  They are playing Castillo with Tanturi.  I need to dance.  I look around.  The guy against the wall is still looking at me.  OK, it is almost the 3rd song.  I accept his invitation.

We go to the floor.  I go into his embrace.  I am not prepared for this dance. Neither is he.  With all the passion of the music I am swept away.  I do something I almost never do.  I close my eyes.  We are two bodies moving as one.  The song ends.  We face each other. Finally I say "Wow!"  because I can think of nothing else to say.  He smiles and says to me "Si." We dance the next song.  Where did this guy come from? 

I sit down.  I watch this guy dance with another woman.  She cannot keep up with him.  I cannot wait for the tanda to end.  I want to dance with him again.  Vals!  Yes!  I look back against the wall.  An over-aged Barbie is talking his ear off.  He looks at me.  I smile.  He excuses himself and comes to get me.

Again, a powerful dance.  This is not some milonga dancer.  "I say to him, where are you from?"  He tells me he is from here.  I tell him how I thought he might be an Italian visiting.  He finds that humorous.  He tells me he though that I was Argentine and how funny to hear my accent.  We dance the next song.

I can do my suspended giro, he laughs.  A happy laugh.  He does a little footwork, I laugh.  We are like children.  You do not find partners like this in the milonga.  Not often.  During the next break I say to him "I have never seen you before."  He tells me that he was in a relationship.  His girlfriend did not like the milonga.  It was difficult for him.  I tell him I understand.  For me if the guy dances it is a nightmare, if the guy doesn't dance it is a nightmare.  With tango as your addiction, it makes life difficult sometimes.

When I am seated at the table, Juan looks at me.  "Te gusta bailando con el pibe?"  he asks me.  "Si," I say to him.  "Baila muy buen."  Juan stares at me.  "Vamos."  He gets up and takes me to dance.  He never once criticizes me.  In fact he even says something nice to me about my dancing.

Next tanda, my new friend invites me.  Three tandas in one night.  I don't care.  Sandra looks at me.  I shrug my shoulders.  I don't care if people talk.  Just what are they going to say?  "La Rubia baila 3 tandas?"  Y que!

How many times do I dream to dance this way?  How many times do I leave a milonga wondering if I will ever dance with someone who feels the passion of the music?  Here I am swept away, by this stranger into what is my tango.  His tango.  A connection no one can explain.  One that almost never happens.

I say to him "Do you dance for work or for your heart?"  He tells me the milonga is his dance for the heart.  He dances for work.  He teaches in a school.  He dances for shows and events.  Now that he and his partner are separated he is not sure what will happen.  I say nothing.  "Here in the milonga" he tells me, "I dance for me, for my tango, for the love of the music."

The tanda ends.  I again go back to my table.  I am hardly seated when Juan looks at me. "Vamos".  I go to dance with him.  He is a splendid dancer.  I love to dance with him.  He has so much cadencia.  Feeling.  But the connection I have with the other, is not there.  How can anyone explain this?

Sandra is leaving.  I tell her I want to stay.  She gives me a little smile.  "You look great with him" she tells me.  Juan hears her.  I say good bye to Sandra and tell her we will talk tomorrow.  We are going to Enrique's tomorrow.

For the next hour I alternate between Juan and my guy sitting against the wall. It is almost comical. I think I have danced more with Juan this night than all the nights together.  Amazing what a little competition can do.

Sometimes  I dance with the Viejo.  He is muy simpatico.  He loves to talk about the music.  He always tells me stories.  In the middle of one, I see my friend looking at me to dance another tanda of vals. I ask the Viejo to pardon me, I must go to dance.  I meet  my dancer at the edge of the floor.

I lost count of the tandas I have danced with him.  This certainly will set the tongues wagging.  Funny how I can dance with Juan the same amount of times, and no one will care, because we were seated at his table.  The codigos...easier to work for IBM.

I ask my friend his name, "Juan." he tells me.  I tell him I am Deby.  "Juan more time"  I think to myself. Una noche de Juans.  As we finish the tanda, I tell him dancing with him is wonderful.  "You too."  he says to me.  "A real surprise."  "You are really good, a pleasure."  He says to me "It is not only me, it is half me and half you. Surely you must know that.  Let's dance again.  One more time."

The Milonga Chronicles....Milonguera Extranjera

Helen and I are going to meet Sandra at SoHo Tango.  Patricio and Adriana have a milonga here on Wednesdays.  I have always liked this place.  Mostly because I can walk here.  Before they had the milonga, Marta had it for two years.

It is a more intimate place.  A smaller room.  The air conditioning works.  We come every Wednesday.  Helen is my guest who is visiting from New York and staying with me.  We tease her and call her "the Korean Sex Symbol."  She is a quiet, serious, woman.  Well was.  After hanging out with Sandra and I she admits she has become somewhat of a party animal.  She thinks every day is a party day with us.  Not really, that is just life here.

We are ready to walk the 8 blocks when Sandra calls.  "I will pick you guys up."  Helen rolls her eyes.  She cannot believe we are going in a taxi 8 blocks.  It is for the friendship, so we can walk in together.  Not for the distance.

My friend Victor who lives in San Francisco and runs the Mariposa Milonga at the Verdi Club is going to meet us there.  He has been hanging out with us.  I adore him, and it is great to see him again.  The only part I miss about my life in the U.S. is my friends.  (And Costco, Target, and The Gap)

We walk into the milonga.  We have a regular table.  As we make our way, we greet our friends. The waitress knows our order.  She brings our water before we ask for it.  We tell her tonight we want a bottle of champagne. 

I look around the room.  Before I can say anything Sandra starts to complain "Too many women.  Look at all of them.  There is no one to dance with."  I tell her to stop complaining.  It is early.  She always complains about the same thing, but she stays until 4:00 am.

A man walks by our table. He looks at me "I am going to dance with you tonight."  he says.  Sandra and I look at each other.  I shrug my shoulders.  Helen is dancing non-stop.  We tease her.  "Korean Sex Symbol"  she laughs.

I notice a man looking at me, looking at me,looking at me.  He looks like a beginner.  He is probably in the class before the milonga.  I would not mind dancing with him.  He is kind of cute.  I will dance with a few of the others first.

Sandra is still complaining as she accepts a dance from a friend who she does not like to dance with.  The man who walked by the table is looking at me.  I accept a dance with him.  I have seen him dance, he seemed like a nice dancer. I go into his embrace.  He surprises me with his caminata, it is excellent.  Few men can dance a caminata well.  I remark to him "Que buena tu caminata!"  He smiles.

Between songs he says to me "It is an honor to dance with you." Oh no, is this a new pickup line? I laugh "Why?"  He says to me "A professional dancer like you? I am honored."  I laugh.  I tell him I do not dance professionally anymore.  He continues, "I used to see you with your friend.  I saw you on the TV and in the newspaper.  La milonguera extranjera." (The foreign milonguera) I laugh again.

He adds some nice footwork to the dance.  Why have I missed this guy?  He probably does not go to dance much.  I ask him where he goes, he tells me.  I ask him "Why have I missed you?"  He tells me he always sees me, but never invited me to dance.  Duh...

Victor comes in.  He is crammed into our table with us.  He doesn't seem to mind.  He loves being with 3 women.  We make jokes all the time.  We love having him with us.

The three of us are dancing all the time.  Sandra has stopped complaining. Now there are men here for us to dance with.  It is interesting to look at people dance.  This milonga is small.  You can easily tell the bad Argentine dancers from the bad foreign dancers.  The bad Argentine dancers hunch over and out.  The bad foreign dancers usually stand up and lean forward and take larger steps.

Another guy I know is staring at me.  I have not danced with him before.  I see him in the milongas and greet him, but that has been it.  I go to dance with him.  Unlike the first man, he is not that great a dancer.  Not important.  He tells me "I have wanted to dance with you for a long time." "You never invited me."  I tell him. " I was always afraid to ask you."  he says.  I always find this an interesting answer.

He tells me that he saw me on tv and he was so proud.  "You are so porteña.  You had me laughing so hard."  I was a little crazy on the show, acting like myself, but still nutty.  "The other guy was so stiff, so serious, but you were funny."  I thank him.  He asks me lots of questions about my living here.  Then he asks me where I learned to dance.  He tells me what lot of people here do "You dance like us, and that is not usual for a foreigner."  I tell him I never really had lots of lessons either in the U.S. or here.  I mostly learned from the milongueros.  "Milonguera extranjera" he smiles. 

"You had no lessons, really?" he asks again.  I tell him I had some lessons but not many. I learned to dance in the milongas here.  I tell him Mimi is a friend of mine, and I have translated for her for years.  I learned a lot listening to her. "Ahh, Mimi es la reina (queen)" he says.  "Yes, but she is my friend not my teacher." I make sure he understands that.   Then he asks about my former partner.  "Yes," I tell him, "he was an influence on my dance. He brought out the elegance."  "You don't dance with him anymore?" he asks.  I shake my head.  "We don't talk to each other."  "What a pity." he says.  Maybe for my dance, but not for much else.  He hugs me when the tanda ends "Thank you for loving my country."

Capo Lento comes in.  Helen and I roll our eyes.  "Abuelo" we laugh.  Sandra uses her stream of English with us "Shut up, jerks, okey dokey artichokey."  That sends all of us laughing.  It is still hard to believe she likes this old guy. Well as they say here "hay por todo".  (Something for everyone)

Capo lento invites her to dance.  Even Victor is surprised. "That guy is old." he comments.  He takes Helen to dance.  I am seated alone.  At the second song I see the beginner student guy staring at me.  I accept his invitation to dance.  This is probably not a good idea.  But better here than a bigger milonga.

I go into his embrace.  It is a little awkward. He is just standing there.  He starts to move side to side. Then stops. Then a step back. He is nervous.  I understand that.  The problem is we are in the line of dance and going to be a problem.  Some of the men are already giving me that "What the hell are you doing look."  I tell this man, "No precupes, camina, esta bien a caminar."  (Don't worry, walk, it is ok to just walk)

"No" he tells me and continues to move side to side, then stop, then back a step.  He is probably trying to remember whatever pattern he had in class.  I am trying to be kind. I know he must have watched me dance.  I tell him again, "esta bien - camina con la musica."  (It's OK, just walk to the music) He then tells me "NO" with force. 

I ask him if he is new to the milonga. (does milk come from cows?) He won't answer.  "You are a foreigner."  Ahh here we go, blame me for your inability to dance. I tell him "Yes, I am foreign but I have danced for many years here in the milongas." He gives that snide little laugh they always give before they think they are going to slam me. He tells me he takes the class before the milonga with Daniel.  I tell him I have known Daniel for many years. He is still stumbling around on the floor.  Thank God we are not bumping into anyone. Then he makes that big fat mistake "You know, you are the problem"  I don't let him finish.  Probably he is going to say because I don't take classes with Daniel or because I am foreign or some other crap.

I lose my patience.  I have been nice.  I should never accepted a dance with him.  I never do this.  But I am so tired of idiots.  "Soy bien conocida en la milonga.  Baile en canal 7.  Estuve in Clarin.  Soy la milonguera extranjera.  Todos conocen mi baile."  I tell him and I walk off the floor.  He is probably too stupid to know that I have just delivered a major insult leaving him in the middle of the floor.

"Nena, nena, nena." the man seated next to me says. "What were you thinking dancing with him?" I don't even have to explain why I walked off the floor. I shrug my shoulders. Sometimes it does not pay to be nice.  I look to my left.  At the table in front are a group of guys that dance well.  They always greet me, but they never dance with me.

I look at them. Two of them are pushing at each other as to who is going to dance with me. I can't believe it.  Like young boys, only the are in their 50s.  Finally I just point to one of them and he comes to get me.  He is a beautiful dancer.  "Que linda sos" he tells me.  (How pretty you are)  I like dancing with him and I tell him.  "We have not danced for many years, the last time was at Celia's"  I don't remember, but I do not say anything.

When the tanda ends, he thanks me.  I thank him back.  It was a nice dance.  He walks me to my table. Victor is tired and he is going to leave.  "You guys are crazy." he says.  "I like my milonga better."  We laugh at him.  He always says this.

I saw Sandra dancing with a man I have always wanted to dance with.  "How was your dance?"  I ask her. "Great" she says.  "Muy buen compas"  I tell her he never invites me.  "Look at him, he will.  What other options does he have tonight?"  I look at him, and get nothing.  On the second song I look again.  YES! He invites me.  I stay seated until he comes to get me.

It is a tanda of D'arienzo.  How lucky.  The man comments how we have never danced before.  He tells me that he was on vacation for 6 weeks and did not dance at all.  "Me muero por mi tango" he tells me. (I died for my tango)  I tell him I feel the same sometimes when I do not have time to go dance. I make a comment that since he has probably danced his whole life, 6 weeks is a long time.  He smiles, "I have only been dancing for 11 years."  I am shocked.  This man dances like he has danced his whole life.  I tell him that.

"My brothers always danced tango, my uncles, my father.  But me no.  I always listened to the music.  It was always playing in my house.  It was not until 11 years ago I decided to learn to dance.  I have not stopped since."  I am still amazed.  I tell him, "I have been dancing 9 - 10 years."  "Yes, I remember you in the beginning.  Sos mas linda ahora."  he says to me. 

I do not want this tanda to end.  Everything is perfect.  This must be my last dance.  I have to get up early and it is already 3:00 am.  Calavera nochilla.  La milonguera extranjera.