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...

Comments

[Janis Kenyon]

Deby,
I love your idea about Roxie teaching. She is so warm and friendly, greets people at the door, and makes them feel welcome with a kiss. Her walk is better than many tango teachers I know.

[Alex]

Hola Miss Deby...

Just to clarify, is Roxie your dog, or your cat?