TangoSpam:La Vida Con Deby

Shoes, Shoes, Shoes....

Yuko shows me her shoes.  They are missing a heel.  They are the only shoes she has brought to Buenos Aires for tango.  "I can get them fixed in 20 minutes."  she says to me.  I laugh, "Nothing takes 20 minutes in Buenos Aires."  Except maybe something that should take 10 seconds, and then you might have to wait and see.

In the U.S. you can have heels while you wait.  Here you wait to have heels.  You can walk into a zapatero, completely empty and he is just sitting there.  Heels will still take a week.  Patience.  We go to the zapatero down the block.  He is working on a pair of shoes.  He grunts to us when we walk in.  He shuffles to the counter.  "Buenas tarde"  I say to him.  I show him Yuko's shoes.  "Entiendes castillano?"  He asks me. How many times have I been to this zapatero?  He looks at her shoes and gives us a price. "Hay una urgencia?" he asks.  I tell him yes.  "Bien, sabado en la mañana."  Today is Thursday.  "Bienvenidos a Buenos Aires"  I say to Yuko.

Now we must find her shoes.  She wants to take a class tonight with Daniel Lapadula and stay in Niño Bien.  First we go on the subte to see Leo.   Yesterday we went to Dar Cos but they had nothing.  Not only that, they have raised their prices to the sky.  No way I am going to pay those prices for shoes that have plastic heels. 

When we get to Constitucion I let her know we are in one of the more "colorful" barrios.  IE; not so safe. We walk to Leo's only to find that she is not open.  Yuko is sad.  I have told her so much about Leo, she was looking forward to meeting her and having shoes made.  We will have to come back. 

Since we are so close we walk to Delie.  It has been ages since I have been to Delie.  I hope they don't remember me.  I feel bad not coming here at least to say hello.  The store has been completely remodeled. It looks beautiful.  The same woman - the sister - is still working there.  She is on the phone and leaves us standing outside.  I explain to Yuko that an Argentine would consider it rude to break the telephone conversation to come to the door.

Finally She opens the door.  I explain to her what Yuko is looking for.  Basically we are in self-help mode.  We are supposed to look around the store and then ask for a size.  The shoes are beautiful.  All leather. No cardboard fillers like most of the shoes produced for tourists.  Yuko tries a few pairs.  Her feet are so slender, her arches high, and worse her two feet are two different sizes.  Nothing fits.

I tell Yuko not to worry, we will find something.  We get back on the subte and head to Corrientes. There are many tango shoe stores in Abasto.  Most do not have decent quality.  They are not 100% leather and they use that crappy plastic heel, and they charge a FORTUNE for them. I get tired of explaining to women that just because a shoe is pretty and sexy it does not make it a tango shoe.  Almost every woman who stays with me complains about her feet. Even Sandra complains about her feet.

We go to check out Madreselva.  They are in the Abasto Hotel.  It takes us awhile to figure out they are in the foyer on the first floor.  They do not open until 3:00.  The showcase with shoes has several pretty pair.  We do not want to wait.

"Let's go to Susanna's"  I say to her.  I have not been there in ages.  We walk in.  No one is there but the young man who has always worked there.  I tell him about Yuko's feet.  He makes several recommendations.  He pulls out boxes and asks her to try some shoes on.  Meanwhile I decide to look around.  Most of Susanna's shoes are all leather with the classic heel.  She has one small row of the plastic heel-kill-your-feet shoes.

When I go to the back of the store I see a pair of beautiful black sandals to die for. Then I look at the heel.  I can't wear this heel!  It is higher than what I wore before the accident.  I had to have Leo cut down all my shoes.  Well, it can't hurt to try them.  I ask if they have my size.  The young man pulls out a pair of 37s.  I go to try them on.  They feel like they are made for me.

This is important.  I always tell the women that if the shoe is not wonderfully comfortable to begin with, then don't buy it.  It is not going to become comfortable over night or while you are dancing.  I never complain about my feet.  Because my shoes fit.  I only buy 100% leather, and no crappy plastic heels.  (They are not stable and I don't care where you buy them)

I walk around the store.  The young man tells me to take my time.  Yuko in the meantime seems to also be having luck with a pretty pair of burgundy color shoes.  When I walk to the back of the store I see a pair of shoes that they were showing 4 years ago.  I pick them up and I say to the young man "These shoes are ancient!  I remember when you had them here 4 years ago."  He laughs in surprise. 

In two seconds Susanna herself comes down from her office.  She heard me comment about the shoes. She gives me a big hug.  "You don't come back anymore?"  she questions me.  I feel bad.  I tell her that I was in a bad car accident and was not dancing for awhile.  We talk for a bit.  She is happy to see me again.  I tell her that I am amazed she still remembers me.  She laughs.  "You are a friend of Nora's.  I will always remember you."  She leaves us to go back to her office.

The young man looks at Yuko's shoes.  He sees how one of them fits.  He tells her not to worry.  He can fix it.  He takes them from her.  I tell him I love the shoes I have on, but could he please just cut the heel 1 cm.  He tells me no, the style of the heel will not let him.  I do not know what to do.  The truth is the shoes are comfortable, and I love them.  He takes Yuko's shoes upstairs.

I walk around the store.  I do ochos.  I test my balance.  Everything seems to be there.  I know that even if the shoes are OK, I will be in pain the next day.  I need to wear a lower heel.  These are 9.5 cm.  I use 8 now.  What to do...what to do.  I look in the mirror.  I should not.  They look spectacular.

The young man brings Yuko's shoes back down. She tries them on.  She gets a big smile on her pretty face.  "They feel good."  she says.  "OK"  I ask him, "How much?"  I am ready for an absurd price like the other stores. Maybe my shoes will be too expensive.  Then I can say no to these absurd heels. When he tells me 240 pesos, we are both thrilled.  I still cannot believe I am buying shoes with a heel this high.  Even if I sit, I will sit with pretty sexy feet.

I pay for my shoes.  Yuko goes to an ATM to get some cash to pay for hers.  I talk to the staff in the store.  They remembered me once Susanna came down.  It is in these moments I know why I live here. We have a very nice conversation.  Yuko comes back and pays for her shoes.

I thank everyone and kiss them good bye.  Yuko and I head out the door.  She is so happy to have shoes and to be able to dance tonight.  Shoes, shoes, shoes....a woman can never have too many pair of shoes.

The Milonga Chronicles:Sit Pretty

I rarely ever go to two milongas anymore.  The milongas are too expensive for me to do that now.  I remember the days I would go to 2 - 3 milongas.  Now only one, and definitely not every day. 

I have two guests staying me.  I ask them "Where do you guys want to go dance tonight?"  I give them the options; El Beso, Gricel, or Niño Bien.  One wants to go to El Beso and maybe Niño Bien.  The other wants to go to Niño Bien.  It is her first day here.  She is new to tango.  I recommend she take the class with Daniel Lapadula.  He speaks English and is good with beginners.

I think to myself 14 pesos to enter El Beso, 15 pesos to enter Niño Bien.  Something to drink in both places. I don't want to think about the taxi.  I am hoping my guests will be generous and pay for the taxi.  I call Daniel to let him know I am sending him a student.  He is happy to hear from me.  I have known him for maybe 9 - 10 years.  He asks me if I am going to come tonight.  I tell him yes.  He says that he will arrange for me to be "invitada" and to tell them at the door I am  his guest.  I am thrilled.  I thank him for being generous.

I arrange for Jose to pick Yuko up and take her to Niño Bien.  I will be gone by the time she needs to leave for Niño Bien.  I can trust Jose to get her there and to charge her properly.  Not only that he will give her a running commentary and history lesson on the way.  Fortunately she understands enough Spanish to be able to enjoy it.

Then my other guest informs me she is too tired to go to out.  She is going to stay in.  I think I am going to kill her.  Instead I decide to just go.  It has been a long time since I have gone to this milonga.  I take a taxi to El Beso.  Normally I take the bus but I am late.

When I enter the guard greets me.  "Twice in one week"  she says to me.  I smile as I enter.  I kiss Stella hello.  "Tanto tiempo" she remarks to me.  At the top of the stairs is Oscar.  He gives me a big hug.  I have not seen him in awhile either.  It seems nobody is dancing as much as they used to.

I am not happy about the table I am given.  I made a reservation.  Business as usual.  I finally accept a table against the mirror but not happily.  I look around the room.  Lots of familiar faces, lots of good dancers. 

I dance two nice tandas.  Both with men I know.  I see Oscar looking at me.  Within minutes I am moved to a front row table.  A much better vista.  There are men looking at me.  I am not sure I want to dance with someone who I do not know.  I am wearing new shoes.  They are much higher than all my others.  Since the accident I have had to wear a lower heel.  I am afraid a bad dancer will knock me on my butt.  How embarrassing would that be?

Two women are seated at my table.  I listen to them.  One is clearly American.  The other is  a Latina  but not from Argentina.  I say nothing.  They are older, probably my age.  It is interesting to hear their perspective on the milonga.  They are being asked to dance by all the opportunists.  They are so so dancers.  They do not realize they are being asked for reasons other than their dancing. I sit.  I know I will not dance until the floor clears.

The Latina in baggy fish nets says to me "Hablas Español?"  I tell her yes.  She then says to me that I must be new to the milonga.  The way she says it is so condescending.  I laugh at her "Are you serious? I am well known." I say to her.  "Well you are not dancing and I feel sorry for you. I figure it is because you are new."  More condescending attitude.  What does she care?  She then goes on to tell me the reason she is dancing so much (I would hardly call it much) is because the men know her.  (What the hell is wrong with these women?  Why does everything have to be a competition?)

I ask her if she is from Buenos Aires or is she on vacation.  She acknowledges that she is on vacation.  I tell her that is why she is dancing.  Of course she does not agree.  She is still insisting I do not know anyone.  I tell her, "Look in the milonga we have codes."  Before I can finish my sentence she interrupts me "I know the codes, I have been here 13 times."  Funny I have never seen her here before. 

I continue "The men dance only 2 tandas with a woman. They prefer to wait to dance with their favorite dancers until the floor is clear and they can enjoy it."  "I know, I know." She says to me.  I continue "And there are two type who do not dance that much - those that can and those that cannot."  She clearly believes I am in the last group, with her baggy fishnets, scuffed shoes and all.  (I suppose I could add and her June Cleaver hair, but then that would be really ...meow...)

Now I am pissed.  I get up and walk across the room to wear Alito and Osvaldo are seated.  "Hola Hermosa" they greet me.  I kiss them both.  Osvaldo pulls up a chair for me. I sit down.  I ask Alito if he enjoyed his birthday lunch with Janis.  He beams.  I tell Osvaldo I am mad at him because he never dances with me anymore.  He laughs at me "You are always dancing. What do you need an old man like me for?"  I give him my pouty look.  The men around the table laugh.  Osvaldo takes me to dance. Baggy fishnets is watching.

I thank Osvaldo for the dance and tell him he is the dream I always remember.  He beams with pleasure. I work my way around the room - Ricardo, Cachito, Fernando, Roberto, greeting, talking, and playing with all of them.  Each in turn invites me to dance.  Funny, baggy fishnets and her friend are still sitting.

When I turn the corner to go to the bathroom a man stops me "I like your blog Deby." I stop to look at him.  It is Michael from San Francisco.  He finally made it here.  We started dancing at the same time. I tell him I will give him my card.  Next week is a holiday weekend and my birthday.  The amigas are planing.

As I go back to my table Cachito reaches out to me "Hermosa"  he takes my hand and sits me down.  "When are we going to get married?"  he asks me.  I laugh "Where do you live?"  Now he laughs.  "I have a big house outside of the city."  Then he is serious, "Why don't you have a boyfriend?"  He asks me.  I hate this question.  What am I supposed to answer?  "It is a little complicated."  I tell him.  "You don't like men?"  I cannot believe I get asked this.  I roll my eyes.... "I love men"  I tell him.  This conversation is getting a little too serious for me.  Cachito takes my hand "You have to trust."  he tells me.  I kiss him on the cheek.

I get up to go back to my table.  It is time for me to go to Niño Bien.  Baggy fishnets and her friend are still sitting.  I know I proved my juvenile point.  I smile at her as I collect my things.  "You are still sitting," I say to her.  "Que lastima."

Would you like to come over?

Last week my friend Linda was here visiting from the Bay Area.  She became a part of my pack so to say.  She hung out with me and my friends.  At one point when we were together she told me that she thought I was doing well living here in Buenos Aires.  "You seem really happy, much calmer than when you lived in the Bay Area." she said to me. Linda teased me.  "You are the same."  She said to me.  "Always busy.  Always doing something. Only now it is different things."

We had  lots of conversations about lifestyle differences.  She is no stranger to living in another country.  She moved to the U.S. from England more than 10 years ago.  She told me that even though the language is the same, there are still cultural differences.  More than most people would imagine.

Linda like most of my friends, knows, that I did not move here for tango.  I moved here because I like the life here.  I did not come here to "reinvent" myself. To become another person. Or become something I could not be elsewhere. I had a great life in California. Lots of friends and many many good things.  There was always this little piece missing.  I found it here.  I am nocturnal.  I can be nocturnal here and not be alone.  I also like to be around people.  Here in Argentina, if you are alone, as one of my friends Vero says, "There is something wrong with you."

In North American the thrust is for privacy.  Here everyone knows your business.  Sometimes I have to remind myself not to talk to my North American guests the same way I do with my Argentine friends.  We talk about everyone and everything concerned with everyone.  It is just how it is.  I know things about people I only met once or never met.  Because my friends talk about their friends, their family.  In North America this would be considered bad form.  Here it is normal.  I am no longer amazed now when I meet people for the first time and they know all about me.

The other thing I like is how friendships are.  I have been asked many times by other ex-pats if the Argentines I know ever invite me to their homes. This is kind of an interesting question. North Americans are proud of their homes.  I tell my Argentine friends how when you go to the home of a person the first time they always give you a tour.  Or if they change something, they want you to see it. Events are created around new homes, new couches, new bathrooms.

My Argentine friends think this is funny.  When Sandra moved into her new apartment I asked her if I could see the rest of it.  She did not offer a tour.  This is standard for most of my friends.  Seeing their apartment or house is not on the agenda.  Having mate or dinner is.

I do go to the homes of my friends.  They invite me for one reason or another.  The thing is, most of the time we go out.  The main reason is space.  Most apartments are much smaller than apartments in North America.  That and people come from different sides of the city, so we tend to meet somewhere easy for all of us.  OR around an event like shopping in Plaza Serrano, or the theater or a movie.

The other thing I notice is that people here keep their friends forever.  I think this might be the reason why many people who come here find it difficult to meet "locals" and develop deep friendships. (Besides the language) People tend to keep their friends from grammar school.  They stay in their same little groups.  Many of my friends meet with their grammar school friends once a month to have dinner. Some go in groups as large as 20 or more.

I think people in North America are more migratory.  I changed states and parts of the country twice before I moved here.  In California I lived mostly in the North, but I lived for a time in the South.  I moved many times in the 31 years I lived there.  I have no contact with anyone from grammar school, although several old friends from high school have found this blog and emailed me.  They too have migrated from our old stomping grounds to other parts of the country.

Here people tend to stay put.  Not only in the same country, but in the same apartment.  People live at home with parents longer.  People don't sell apartments and trade up.  Not unless they have a reason.  A new baby, someone dies, gets married, life events. 

The thing I like is sharing time with my friends.  I shared time with my friends in the U.S. but not in the same way.  Like wanting to have coffee with my friends in California.  I had to make an appointment, put it in my agenda, sometimes for 6 weeks in advance.  Here I just call one of my friends "Quieres tomar un cafe?" and we meet.

Weekends here are for friends and family.  My weekends before were for me.  Saturdays I meet friends to go shopping, go to lunch, have mate.  Recently on Sundays we have been doing lunches too.  Last week Sandra locked herself out of her apartment not once but two times.  The first time she had to go to a locksmith.  The second time I asked our friend Jorge if he knew how to open doors.

He has lots of businesses and is one of those handy kind of guys.  I figured it was worth asking.  After staying out until 5:00 am with me, Sandra, and Linda, he went over to Sandra's at 11:00.  Sandra of course ended up staying at my house because she couldn't get into hers.  At noon I came over to have mates with her and Jorge.  Then Linda came over.  Sandra cooked Sunday lunch, and then later we all went for coffee.  Other than the B&E of Sandra's door, this was a normal Sunday.  Lunch with friends.

I am finding that every Sunday we are together.  A group of us.  Sometimes one of cooks.  Sometimes we meet in a restaurant.  We are always together sharing.  This for me is a big difference.  Before my house was my sanctuary.  Somewhere I could run and hide from the world.  Be alone.  Now my doors are wide open.  Like the arms of my friends.