TangoSpam:La Vida Con Deby

The Milonga Chronicles: Where is everyone?

My guest Gigi and I decided to go out together.  Well actually we didn't.  She wanted to go to Dandi and I wanted to go to Gricel.  I did not have high hopes for either place, but it is Wednesday and a dancing day for me.

Patricio and Adriana have moved their milonga from Palermo SoHo to Gricel.  The restaurant where the milonga has been held was closed down.  Like a good trooper, I always follow them to their new venues.  I feel bad for them.  All of their marketing materials are for Gricel on Mondays and Palermo SoHo on Wednesday.  Now they have moved.  They are in the milongas passing out flyers.  I feel strongly about supporting them.  I have known Patricio for years.

At the last minute Gigi and I share a taxi.  I figure we can drop me first at Gricel and then she can go on to Dandi.  At the last minute I tell the driver to change and go to Dandi first.  I tell Gigi that way I can peek in the door and see what is happening.  "You´re going to just leave me?"  she ask.  I shake my head yes.  "I don't want to pay 13 pesos to enter when there is absolutely no one for me to dance with.  I love Gloria, but not that much."

When we enter I see Gloria. She is sitting with Carlos.  She has a big smile on her face.  I go to greet them both.  The place is not very full at all.  The ratio of women is like 5 to 1.  I see almost no one that I know.  I can't back out now that Gloria has seen me.  Gigi goes to sit with some of her friends.  I go to sit with Gloria and Carlito.

Carlos amuses himself by playing "Name that Tango" with me.  I amuse me by pretending I don't know the names of any of them.  It drives him crazy.  "Nena," he says to me, "How can you dance like an angel and know nothing of the music."  I always just smile at him and tell him I always forget when he quizzes me.  It always gives him an opportunity to tell me all about the music - the orchestra, the singer, the words. 

He tells me that "my friend" went to Colombia.  I tell him I know.  He is on a fact finding mission.  I am not sure who is playing with who. Cat and mouse....  I tell him I am bored, I want to go to Gricel.  He says to me to wait, and we can go together.  "Tell your pretty friend."  I tell Gigi we are going to Gricel.  "Her eyes shoot open wide "Don't leave me!"  I tell her not to worry, Carlos has invited her too.  She comes to sit at the table with us.

Now I am not sure who is amusing who.  Carlos says to me "I know you don't have a boyfriend. You are too difficult.  How about her?"  I start to say no when Gigi looks him in the eye and goes, "Yes, I have 5." It was so funny and so unlike her. He tells me "You should learn from her."  Gigi and I laugh.

We get in the taxi and go to Gricel.  I tell her not to worry.  Carlos is a sweetheart when he wants to be. He has invited us.  All the way there the 3 of us talk.  I know Carlos thinks we are both crazy.  He does not usually get exposed to foreign women.

We get to Gricel and I can see by the lack of cars out front that it probably is not very crowded inside. We go in.  Patricio, Adriana, are thrilled to see us.  I peek around the curtain.  There are maybe 20 people.  The only difference between here and Dandi is these are locals. 

It doesn't matter what table we sit at.  Carlos tells the waitress to bring us whatever we want.  Then he starts on me.  "What is this song?"  he asks me.  I know it is La Pavadita.  I tell him I don't know.  This gets him going "How can you dance when you do not know the music?"  I say to him "Well, you know the music. How come you don't dance?" He hits me on the head.

I look at the floor.  Gigi is dancing.  I tell her who to dance with.  I know everyone here.  She is in heaven.  Carlos asks me why I am not dancing.  I tell him "I don't want to."  He tells me to dance with this guy that I do not think dances very well.  I tell him  He tells me I am crazy, the guy is a teacher. "Big deal."  I tell him.  "They are all teachers."

He stares at me.  "You do not like to dance with anyone."  "Not true," I say to him.  "I like to dance with your friend."  He doesn't say anything.  He just stares at me.  "He can dance." I say to him. "He's just an asshole" is what I want to really say, but don't.  Instead I just smile. Cat and mouse...

Carlos insists I dance with that guy I don't want to dance with.  OK.  What can I do.  The guy is shocked. He knows I would not dance with him under any other circumstance.  I do my best.  I know he is nervous. Pata dura, mano dura, and no sense of the music.  No surprise there.  He thanks me for the dance. I go back to my table.

"Y?" Carlos says. "Y que?"  I answer.  "Pata dura, mano dura, no sentido por la musica."  Carlos tells me I am crazy.  "Do you like to dance with anyone?"  he asks.  I just look at him.  "Do you have to ask that question?" I answer.  Cat and mouse...

It is not even 1:00 am and the place is starting to empty.  It is sad.  What is happening to our milongas?  Eduardo invites me to dance.  He asks me why I came so late.  I tell him how we went to Dandi first. He asks me how it was.  I tell him, like here, but without good dancers and locals.

He thinks for a moment.  "You know, the organizers don't get it."  I know what he is going to say. "For us it is a 50 peso night.  The taxi, the entrance, something to drink.  Who can do this more than a couple of times a week?"  I agree with him.  I tell him that I am lucky I can split the taxi with friends or the people staying with me.

"I don't know what will happen to our tango." he says to me.  "Before I could go out 5 nights a week. When milongas were less."  I agree with him.  "Here is 20 people who paid $13 pesos to get in.  If they charged $10 pesos, maybe they would get 50."  He thinks about it.  He looks sad. 

I go back to the table.  Carlos asks me if I liked that dance.  "Eduardo is my friend."  I tell him.  I like to dance with him.  Carlos looks around.  The club is almost empty.  There are maybe 5 of us left.  It is only 1:00 am.  "Where is everyone?"  he asks me.  "I guess it is time to go."

Morí para este baile

Patricio and Adriana have moved their milonga to Gricel.  Tonight is the first night. Sandra and I have free entrances.  We decide to go.  Capo Lento (Who is now called Harry Potter) will meet Sandra there.  They always have their rendezvous on Wednesday nights. 

Patricio is happy to see us.  He has reserved a special table for us.  Adriana is used to us sitting at my table.  She is confused when Patricio tells her no, he has another table for us.  He leads us to the front row of tables facing the floor.  Sandra gasps.  "If Emilio comes I do not want him sitting next to me."   (Her ex)  Patricio is not sure what to say.  He tells he doesn't think he will come.  "Do not sit him next to me." She tells him again.

There are few people here.  There was not much publicity about the change of venue.  I hope a lot of people did not go to Palermo because they did not know the milonga moved here.  There are not many people here to dance with.  We watch a couple who were in the class before the milonga.  We cannot help but laugh.  They look like a tango cartoon.  You can tell they have spent hours trying to perfect steps only the most polished professional could do.  They do not realize that they should have spent hours on learning how to walk elegantly.

I look up.  I see my friends.  A couple of men I know who come here to dance.  I know from their steps my ex was their teacher.  I tell Sandra to look.  Then we are both horrified, because right behind them is Roberto and another friend.  Worse than that, Patricio smiles as he leads them to the table directly behind us.  I cannot believe this.  I feel like I am part of a bad movie. What is he doing?

Juan comes over to greet me.  " I brought Roberto." He says to me as he leans down to kiss me.  I want to say "No joke" or really bad joke.  I do not understand this.  What is going on here?  I want to vomit. I feel like I am in a remake of "Night of the Living Dead."  I tell Sandra.  She tells me to "Shut up."  (I must stop teaching her English) "You look beautiful. Just ignore him."  Then she laughs, "Poor Patricio, first I tell him not to put Emilio near us, and now you have Roberto." 

We watch him dance. "What the hell happened to his dancing?"  Sandra says.  "Everything is gone, his posture, his feet."  I am shocked too.  I know when he doesn't like who he is dancing with he doesn't try. But this is ridiculous.  I say to her "People told me he lost his dance."  Too many dances with women who cannot.

When the tanda ends he comes to the table to greet us.  He bends to kiss me and then Sandra.  I think I am still in a state of shock.  I get up to go to the bathroom.  It is time for lipstick.  I laugh to myself.  Sandra once asked me what I buy when I am depressed.  I tell her lipstick and nail polish.  Now I guess I put on the lipstick.

When I come out of the bathroom, Carlos motions for me to come sit down.  Roberto is not at the table. I hesitate.  Then I go.  He is all Mr. Friendly and smiles.  Completely the opposite of when we last met and he refused to greet me. "Que linda sos."  he says to me.  He asks me how I have been.  He is a regular chatty Cathy.  I want to leave.  I do not want to be seated here when Roberto returns.  He will not let go of my hand.  The bad movie continues.  Now I feel like I am in "Jaws".

Roberto sits down.  I do not look at him.  Carlos asks me what happened with Roberto.  As if he doesn't know.  No Academy Award for this performance.  "You were together," and then nothing.  I wonder if he wants a list..comehombre...the stupid Mormon girl from Utah who slept with a different guy every night and then set her sites on him, the other jealous ballerinas, and his miserable machista behavior to me when I could not dance.  I say nothing.

"Will you dance with him?"  he asks me.  What can I say?  I have longed to dance with him again.  To see if that magic we had was real.  Did we really have that connection?  Were we really that good together?  Was it all something I made up in my head?  Comparing every dancer to him.  Torturing myself.

Carlos turns to Roberto "You need to dance with her."  Roberto looks at me.  "Yes, yes, I'll dance with him."  This made it easier for him.  "But not this.  Not milonga.  He says I do not know how to dance milonga."  I say.  "Roberto laughs "Muy bien."  Then I add "But that's not true.  I do know how to dance milonga.  I dance with El Boracho on Fridays."  Carlos reaffirms "You will dance a tango or a vals with him?"  "Yes, a tango or a vals."  I agree.  Carlos turns to Roberto, "She will dance a tango or a vals with you."  I smile, "Only if I like the music."  Roberto laughs.

They play Troilo. Roberto looks at me.  Everyone pushes us to go dance.  I am nervous.  We walk onto the floor.  I face him.  I look into his eyes.  Better to close mine.  And then I am there. I am floating. All the passion, all the feeling. It was not a dream.  Roberto squeezes my hand. "Que lindo" he murmurs.  The song ends.  I feel a tear coming to my eye. 

We finish the tanda.  There is not much to say.  It would be awkward.   He guides me back to his table. Carlos starts again "How beautiful they  dance?"  he asks the table.  Everyone agrees.  Now every tanda they push us to dance.  We dance maybe 6 tandas. We dance by Patricio and Adriana.  Patricio calls out "Que linda pareja." 

I pass by Sandra.  She has been dancing with Harry Potter.  She has a big smile on her face.  "I want all the details tomorrow" she demands.  What details?  My life in a bad movie where I am the star?  She tells me how amazing the change in Roberto's dancing is with me.

They play a vals.  Roberto looks at me. I move to the the floor with him. We hardly talk.  I do not know what to say.  He asks about Roxie.  I tell him she has cancer.  He looks sad.  He tells me he is traveling. "When I come back," he says.  "I will call you. We should talk."

I cannot stop dancing with him.  He is like the pair of shoes that are so comfortable you cannot give them up.  My body responds to his steps.  He takes me through the ones he used to browbeat me over "Tu no puedes bailar" he would yell at me. "Necesitas muchas lecciones."  And now..with all the rehab I have had, my body responds the way it should.

I have waited almost 2 years for this moment, and now it is here. Morí para este baile.  (I died for this dance) Almost.

I can't hear you....I don't want to hear you...Talk to my lawyer please

I have not lived in the U.S. for almost 3 years. I was originally from California.  When I read the news from the U.S. I am constantly amazed at how people use the court systems to settle what I would consider personal differences.  From my vantage point, not only from reading the news, but looking at lists such as Tango-L,BANewcomers, BAExpats, it appears that people in the U.S. have forgotten how to interact with each other on a personal level.  It is much easier to go on the attack using whatever means one can: whether it be the Internet or a lawyer.

People no longer seem to communicate.  There appears to be this propensity to win at all costs.  I realize in American culture, there is the desire to be the best, to win at all costs.  I believe the real cost has been the loss of what Argentines constantly refer to as ser humano.  To be a human being.

In the last year or so there have been two cases involving tango teachers in the U.S. where American women have accused their tango teachers (men of course) of sexual harassment.  One man had charges brought against him by the woman for inappropriate touching in the class.

I don't know any of the people involved. I only know what I have read on the Internet of this case.  I do know many experiences of women who dance tango.  On my first trip to Buenos Aires, my "teacher"  tried to kiss me. I immediately pushed him away, took my things, and walked out.  There was no way I would have another class with an idiot like that.  It was not a question of strength or being afraid or being in a vulnerable position.  I never saw myself as a victim. The guy acted like a jerk. He did apologize.  But so what? It was never even a consideration to have another class with him. To do so, means that you accept this kind of behavior.

From what I read, this woman had 2 classes with this teacher.  Both times she alleged that the teacher touched her inappropriately.  What kind of person returns to a class where she was touched inappropriately in the first class? She had to make that appointment for the private lesson.  She had to show up. The guy touches her inappropriately so she makes another appointment for another private lesson?  If this is true, then what the hell was she thinking?  Then she goes and presses charges against him because he touched her inappropriately?  I don't get it.

Being advanced on in a tango class is not the same as your boss coming on to you, being jumped on the street, or your date getting you drunk and taking advantage. You have the power to say no and leave.  Please do not tell me I am simplifying. Please do not tell me I am blaming the victim. This is a tango class.  If the teacher  forces you to have sex against your will,(And I do mean force)  restrains you, this is rape. Inappropriate touching has a solution - you leave. You don't come back.  Do you really need to go and sue the person? Have them arrested? Is this what happens now?  Someone touches you in a way that is inappropriate, so you sue them?  You take them to court? You have them arrested?  You ruin their life?  Jeesh, this being the case, half of Buenos Aires would be in jail or never allowed back into the U.S.

When I lived in the Bay Area there was a teacher there who had "affairs" with his students.  All was well and fine, until the lovely ladies involved found out that they were not the only ones, all hell broke loose.  Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.  I have seen the same thing happen here in Buenos Aires.  Over and over women come here.  They attach to these piranhas in the milongas like they are Dancing Gods from heaven.  All is well and good, until they find out, that they are not the only one.  Then the Dancing God from heaven becomes a pariah to attack and punish.  He done me wrong.  Considering you had two people in a room with no witnesses, no one really knows the truth do they?

Yes, it is not only the men who perpetrate this behavior, it is the women too.  The difference being what guy is going to go" Oh I took her class, and then she tried to kiss me."  Can you imagine a man taking his female tango teacher to court because she touched him in a class?  I know men this has happened to. They either go with it, or they tell the woman, thank you but no thank you and avoid her.  We want equality as women, but selectively, and at times when it benefits us.  Where did this intense need to flagellate, punish, and expose come from?

Contributing to this situation was a woman who posted to Internet her very strong opinion about this case and this man. She felt it was her duty to expose him.  She added that she has no personal stake.  That she does not teach, so this is not being done to wipe out her competition. Unfortunately both her web site and My Space profile say the opposite.  She does indeed teach tango in the same community.

Where does this hostility come from? 

Parts of this post appeared originally on Tango-L news list

The Milonga Chronicles...Not Another

Sandra comes to get me.  I get into the taxi.  "I am so bad."  I tell her.  "El cretino me llamo".  Her eyes open wide. "Que dijo el?"  she asks me.  I start to giggle.  I answered my phone.  He said "Hola soy Felipe." Then I said in that horrible way I do like an old lady "¿QUIEN?"  Sandra starts to laugh too. I continue; "He said "Felipe"  I went "¿Quien?  ¿Quien quieres hablar? ¿Quien"  He hung up.  The two of us are cracking up.
"He probably wanted to know how my hair was, the idiot."  I say to her.  "He hasn't seen my hair for almost 6 months.  Comehombre probably told him I changed it.  Maybe I should take a picture so he can copy it."  By this time the two of are hysterical with laughter.  "He hasn't learned" she says, "no pudes preparar el mate sin yerba."

On Tuesday we have been checking out various milongas, Sandra and I.  Something to break up the routine. We have been to this milonga twice before.  The first time there was no one there, and that seems to be the situation tonight.  Before when we went there were at least 3 men to dance with.  When they left, so did we.

Tonight there is only Hector.  There are maybe 20 people here.  Good thing we did not have to pay the entrance.  The organizers are inviting Sandra and I now.  That is a good thing since the prices just keep going up.  The wait staff greets us as we walk to our table.

Hector dances with a few women.  Then he dances with only Sandra and I.  I tell him I heard he is going to the Chicago Tango Festival.  He is happy about this. Finally he gets to go to the U.S.  I tell him Ray Ray is a great guy.  Hector is happy to hear this too, he says he is staying with Ray.  "What am I supposed to do?"  I ask him.  "You are leaving me."  He laughs.  "Only for 3 weeks.  I will be back May 2."  "What am I suppose to do until then?" I demand.   "I am sure you will figure something out" he teases me.

As we dance I notice that we are being videotaped.  I am pissed.  I hate that.  I mention it to Hector.  He is not too thrilled either.  In an empty place like this, they should ask.  I tell Hector I do not like to be filmed. I told him how someone in Europe used a tape of me to teach adornos to women. 

Sandra and I sit.  And sit.  And sit.  We decide to eat instead.  I look to see who has come in the door.  It is this man I am dying to dance with.  He is with a blond who has seen too much Botox. Hay por todo.  They sit two tables behind us.

Our food comes.  We are eating and watching the dancers.  The man takes blondie to dance. His feet are beautiful.  She is clearly a student.  I watch him dance.  Every movement.  I always watch his feet. I want to dance with him.  He never looks at me.

I tell Sandra I want to dance with him. "Mira" she tells me. (Look) "Hago,  pero él nunca me invita."  I tell her. (I do but he never invites me) I am dying for those feet.  I watch them.  They are the feet of a cat.  His student goes to the bathroom.  He invites Fish Face to dance.  FISH FACE!  Of all people.  What is wrong with him?

After the tanda he sits down with his student.  I try looking at him again.  It is like looking at a blank wall.  He goes to dance with the woman he is with again.  I cannot stop looking at his feet.  "Muero para aquellos pies"  I sigh. 

We decide to leave. There is nothing going on here. We pay our bill and say our good byes.  Some good byes take longer than other.  Jose is outside waiting for us.  When we go out Dream Feet is smoking a cigarette.  Ugh.  He listens to Sandra and I talk to Jose.  Sandra is telling Jose what a disaster the milonga is.  There is no one to dance with, it is boring.   The most exciting thing was her pavita. (little sandwich)

Then Dream Feet chimes in.  He agrees it is slow.  He said he brought his student there to practice.  He wanted her to dance with other people.  Then he adds and I want to dance with others too.  I can't control myself. I look at him "¡No es verdadero!"  (That's not true) His head snaps around. "¿Como?" Sandra and Jose get that look on their face when they know I am going shock someone.

"I have been looking at you all night, and you just look the other way." I tell him.  His eyes open wide. I cannot believe I am saying this myself.  "You want to dance with me?" He asks. "Yes," I tell him. "But you never look at me."  He probably thinks I am another crazy foreign woman throwing herself at some milonga guy.

"Where do you go to dance?" he asks me.  "What days?"  I let Sandra give him the rundown.  I tell him that we cannot dance every day, we have to work.  He pulls out his wallet and gives me some free entrances to milongas.  "Meet me at any of these milongas and we will dance."  I thank him for the entradas.

"What is your name?" He asks me.  I tell him. "And yours?"  I ask him. "Roberto" he says to me. I die, on the spot.   "Dios mio, un otro Roberto." "I know who you used to dance with." He says to me. I can say nothing. I feel Sandra grabbing my arm and Jose moving towards his car. "No puedo creer, un otro Roberto."  I put the milonga entrances into my bag.

Sometimes You Can't Have It All...

Sometimes you have one of those days.  The kind where you realize you should have just stayed in bed and pulled the covers over your head.  In my case I would rather look out the balcony doors and see the city.  Then somehow in the end, everything seems to work out.

I got up this morning and went right to my computer.  Where else would I go?  I was happily working away when all of a sudden I had no more Internet.  Being the geek I am, I checked my router, the modem, all the connections.  Everything was fine.  I rebooted.  Still no connection.  Finally I ran some utilities...ahh the problem is on their end not mine.

I ran to the living room, fired up my notebook, and snarked a connection from one of my neighbors.  Gotta love those people who install their routers right out of the box.  I went to Telecom's site.  This has to be one of the worlds's worst web sites.  It takes you absolutely no where.  By the time you have gone in an endless loop from Arnet (the ISP) back to Telecom, you realize you are never going to get any information. 

Call 112, they advise on the site. So I go to my phone to call them. Ahhh!  No dial tone!  I have no phone. That is why I have no Internet.  How can you call 112 when you have no phone?  I wonder if anyone else in the building has no phone.  I call down to the Portero.  Nope, the whole building has no telephone service.  Actually this whole part of my barrio.  Someone cut a cable.  Oh well.  I can try to work snarking Internet connections from my neighbors.

Then about 2 hours later the Portero calls.  They are cutting the  water to the building.  Great.  No Internet. No phone.  And now, no water.  Hopefully they won't cut the electricity.  I really do not want to walk up and down 17 flights of stairs. I decide to go to the gym and hope that when I return things will be better.

The gym.  The market.  A new shirt.  "Do we have telephones yet?"  I ask Hugo, the portero.  He shakes his head.  "Water?"  I ask hoping for a better answer. He smiles and says "Agua, si."  I continue upstairs. I hope I can snark another Internet connection.  I enter my apartment. Something is not right.  I can tell by the look on Roxie's face.

I look over to the middle of my living room.  "Hijo de puta!"  (son of a bitch or take your choice of bad words in English)  There is a small pool of water on the floor.  I look up at the ceiling. Drip, drip, drip. Furious I get towels to mop up the mess and leave there while the water drips. I run for the elevator to find out if Miguel the jerky plumber for the building broke another pipe.  I am going to kill him.

"Hugo, tengo un rio en mi departmento!  ¿Que paso con Miguel?"  Hugo looks at me like I am crazy.  He tells me that Miguel is not working in 18 A he is working in 18 B.  I tell him I don't care where he is working water is dripping from the ceiling all over my living room.

We go upstairs to my apartment.  When I open the door and he sees the disaster, he goes "Marilu!" This is my neighbor upstairs.  We run upstairs and knock on her door.  We can hear water running in the apartment.  Hugo looks at me and pounds on the door again.  He asks if I have her number.  I tell him yes I will go get it.  He runs to find the keys of her apartment.

We meet back at her door.  I give him her cell number.  He calls.  Thank God she answers.  She tells him it is OK to enter her apartment, she is on the way.  He looks at me "Espero que no esta algo mal." Marilu rents one of her rooms. Hugo enters the apartment.  The living room is a disaster.  Poor Marilu, she just did her floors.  There is water running in the laundry room and the bathroom..and all over the floor.  My living room was a pond compared to her place.

When the building shut off the water, her cleaning lady didn't understand that.  She left the faucets running in both rooms and had plugged up the sink in the bathroom.  Of course when the water came back on, she was long gone, and left the beginnings of a new river.

Marilu almost passes out when she sees her living room.  Her new floors. Hugo tells her she can rent a machine to suck up the water on Santa Fe.  She runs down there to rent it.  I go back downstairs.  The water has stopped gushing from the ceiling.  For some odd reason, Roxie has planted herself on the wet towels.

I go to the computer...still no Internet.  Guess you can't have everything.

The Milonga Chronicles.....Calavera No Chilla...

look in the mirror.  Ugh.  "I do not want to go out."  I tell myself.  "I do not want to go out."  It's not working.  My body is moving itself to the shower while thinking about what to wear.  "What am I doing?" I think to myself.  "This is crazy."  I think I have been out every night this week.  Actually I think I have been out every night for the last two weeks.  I have been going on 3.5 hours a sleep a night.  I am exhausted.    I pop a couple of aspirins with caffeine into my mouth. The milonguero secret.

I hate all my clothes.  I have nothing to wear.  My closet is jammed full of clothes. I sound like my mother.  Only I am not going to be a raving maniac about it like she used to be.  It was a great way for her to get the credit card out of my father.  I have my own credit cards. I still hate all my clothes.  I wish winter would get here, so I could have different clothes to wear.  I finally decide on something.

I have guests who want to go out.  I have clients on tour.  I have Sandra.  Every night I think I am going to stay home, SURPRISE!  Someone wants to go out.  Sandra begs me to go tonight.  Capo Viejo (AKA Capo Lento) wants to try a new place.  She doesn't want to arrive alone.  Never mind she pulled out at the last minute last night and left me going early to Gricel - alone.  Faithful friend I am, I go, with another client.

We arrive at the milonga.  It is early.  I tried to tell Sandra this milonga does not start until 11.  She insists on getting there at 10:30.  There is a class.  We watch the teachers.  They are teaching a pattern. There is no talk of how to lead, where to position your feet.  The students are tripping over each other.  The teachers are known teachers, they are good teachers. Ten years ago when I took a class from them, they taught tango.  The sad thing is, they have stopped teaching.  They are doing what makes them money.  They are being personalities.

When the class ends, the milonga starts.  We watch the "students" on the floor practicing their steps. Looking at their feet and banging into each other.  Some of the couples have practiced this step over and over.  They glide by.  To the untrained eye, they look good.  Until you notice they are doing the same step over and over and over - regardless of the music, regardless of the cadencia.

Sandra is shaking her head.  "These are not foreigners, these are Argentines.  What are they doing?" she mumbles.  I tell her, "Mimi loves these people.  She says that sooner or later, when they really want to learn to dance, they find her class."  "Hooorrrreeeeblaaay" she says.  People are entering the milonga. They are mostly foreign.  Maybe all.  Large groups.  Smiles pasted on their faces.  Women dressed how they think tango dancers should dress.  Men grasping their shoe bags.

We normally do not come to the tourist milongas.  Sandra now believes me that this is not a good milonga.  The woman with us is watching the floor.  She asks me who I think is a good dancer.  Before I can answer, Sandra says "No one."  The woman asks me what I think about this guy who is in his late 20s dancing with an older woman.  Lots older.

"Him?" I say to her.  Before I continue she says "He is my teacher."  I am horrified, before I think about my words they come tumbling out, "He teaches? Him?  Are you serious?  He can't even dance!"  "Well" she says "I take lessons from him and so do lots of women."  I am shocked, this is the guy that when he comes to the milongas I normally go to we make fun of.  We all think he is the taxi dancer who cannot dance. 

"He's a taxi dancer!!"  I say to her.  "We make fun of him.  We always feel sorry for the women he is with.  We are sure they know he can't dance."  "The woman he is dancing with thinks he is the best. She says she can't dance with anyone else but him."  I laugh.  I should learn to just keep my mouth shut.  "Of course she can't.  He can't dance.  He is teaching her his patterns which no one else dances, which is why she can't dance with anyone else."  Jeesh....

We continue to sit and watch the show.  I tell Sandra this milonga is a big waste of time and money for us.  I want to leave.  She convinces me to stay just a little longer.  The parade of name brands begins to pass through with flyers of their latest overpriced seminar.  What Argentine is going to pay $80 pesos for a 2 hour class?  Another is charging $150 pesos for a "Ladies Only".  And foreigners wonder why the Argentines have so much contempt?

A guy walks by.  The woman again asks me "What do you think of him?"  I am not sure who she is referring to. "Who" I answer.  "Him" she says pointing to this skinny guy I have seen around.  "I don't understand, what about him?"  She tells me he too is a teacher.  Now I cannot say anything.  I am astounded people actually give these guys money. I am thinking maybe I should start promoting Roxie as a teacher.  At least she is entertaining,honest, and her back ochos are just as bad as these guys.

Some guy is eying me.  I have seen him around.  I cannot remember if he can dance or not.  I ask Sandra. She can't remember either.  I accept his dance.  He is delighted.  I meet him on the floor.  He thanks me for accepting the dance.  This is a bad sign.  OK, I accepted, that was my mistake, not his. Because he is a big guy, he forgets I am a small woman.  I have to really fight to even stay upright.  I will not walk off the floor.  He is so happy to dance with me.  He tells me he saw my picture in the paper.  I smile.  Thank God the tanda ends.  I thank him.

I go back to the table. "Look", I tell Sandra, "Capo Lento is here."  She turns and smiles. He comes to get her to dance.  My friend is shocked.  "HIM?"  she asks, "He is so old, and she is so beautiful."  I shrug my shoulders.  "She likes him, what can I tell you?"  I say to her.  "That is the way it is here, old guys, young women."  "But he is too old for me" she says.  I agree, for me too.  That is the way it is.  I attract the old guys too, but I prefer them younger.  Although the last disaster was 63.  I think the old ones are worse than the young ones.  It is like they are afraid the race will end before they hit the finish line.

I see some people I know across the room.  I get up to go greet them.  One an Argentine says to me "You are more Porteña, each time I see you."  They came for CITA and have decided to stay longer.    Now they want to experience the "real" tango experience.  I try to keep my mouth shut.  The real tango experience is not here in a place where 85% of the people are from the U.S. or Europe, taking classes from taxi dancers who cannot dance.

I ask myself again, "what am I doing here?"  Sandra seems happy to be with Capo Lento.  It is almost 1:00 am.  There is not 1 person here I want to dance with.  I tell Sandra I am leaving.  "Next Tuesday you come here alone.  I am going to Lola's."  She laughs.  "OK, next week we go to Lola's."

When my friend and I get outside it is raining.  There are no taxis.  She does not want to walk in the rain.  I don't care.  I have to work tomorrow.  Besides tomorrow is Patricio and Adri.  Calavera no chilla...