TangoSpam:La Vida Con Deby

The Milonga Chronicles: The milonga is a family

How many times have I heard Mimi say "La gente del tango es mi familia." and how many times have I heard others say "In the milonga we are a family."  So many people live their lives in the milonga, the milonga might as well be their only family.  I always chose not to think that way.  Sometimes things happen to change your mind. 

It is a conflict.  In many ways we are a family.  I always think of Mimi and of course Sandra as my sisters.  My friend Marcelo as my brother.  While Amanda is old enough to be my mother, I call her my child.  Jorge is mine and Sandra's Godchild.  These are the few people I see outside of the milonga regularly.

In the milonga we joke constantly.  There are brothers, fathers, grandfathers, cousins, boyfriends, and of course lovers.  All in good fun.  We have our 10 minute conversations on life.  We get to know each other over the course of years.  I am always amazed at what people remember.

Sometimes we meet at the home of another.  At an asado.  More time to learn about the person.  There is always a distance.  There is always a familiarity.   People come, people go.  People get sick.  People die.  They get married.  They get divorced.  Just like in families. We fight.  We argue.  We kiss and make up.  Just like in families.

I first met Luis in 2002 I think.  I was with Mimi eating in a Parilla.  He was there with a friend.  He came to the table to greet Mimi and she introduced me.  He invited me to his milonga which was at that time at Lo de Celia on Wednesday afternoons.

From that time on Luis had various milongas and I attended them all.  His friends were among the best dancers - milongueros, and I wanted to dance with them.  If I could not, I at least wanted to watch them and learn from them.  He was always generous with me, especially in the begining asking his friends to dance with me.

For the last couple of years he has had a milonga on Wednesdays and Fridays at the Central Leonesa (Niño Bien).  I could not  go on Wednesdays.  I used to go on Fridays.  It was not well organized, we could never get a good table.  Sandra got sick of it, and we stopped going and started going to Gricel.

Then 3 months ago or longer I saw Luis in Juan's milonga on Tuesday.  He wasn't dancing and he was in pain.  Me too.  The two of us talked like two old people.  Him with his leg, me with my knee.  He wanted to know why I wasn't coming on Fridays anymore.  I felt like the bad child.  I didn't know what to say.  I didn't want to throw Sandra under the bus, she is my friend.  They did treat us better in Gricel.

That was the last time I saw Luis.  I heard a week later he went into the hospital.  His girlfriend Franca stepped in to help Lucy the other organizer of the milongas to keep them going. Ana and Pia told us that we should come back on Fridays, that the milonga was much better organized.  Sandra refused.  I went.

It was like old home week.  I saw lots of my old friends.  It was much better organized.  I had lots of fun.  Franca and Lucy were delighted to see me.  They gave me a great table, right in front. After I went to Gricel to meet Sandra.  

For a month I have been going to two milongas on Friday night.  Each time Franca would update us on Luis.  Many people said he was not going to leave the hospital. Last Friday, Franca told us that Luis would be at his milonga on Wednesday.

I rescheduled one of my English classes to come to the milonga.  I met Pia there.  Lucy was thrilled to see me.  I had not been to this milonga in over a year.  Pia and I were both dancing when we heard applause in the reception area.  Many of the dancers stopped.  Luis must have arrived.

We went out to greet him.  He looked good.  Thinner.  Walking with a cane.  But he looked good.  We ran to him and hugged him.  What to say?  Sometimes I forget my Spanish.  I told him he looked great.  I didn't know what else to say. To be honest, I couldn't talk.  I was overwhelmed emotionally to see my friend again.  I looked around.  We all had tears in our eyes.

He came into the milonga and sat at the special table prepared for him.  Like a king he was surrounded by all his friends.  He was much quieter than usual.  Normally Luis is quite loud.  Boisterous.  He has this voice that you can hear way above all the others.

Then it came time for the sorteo and announcements.  Franca and Lucy got up.  They welcomed Luis back.  With tears in her eyes, Franca gestured for Luis to come to the center of the floor, which he did.  She handed him the microphone.

And in the voice, that only he has he let out in his way "Amigos y Amigas, bienvenidos a Entre Tango y Tango." With that, the crowd one by one got to their feet and gave him a standing ovation.  One of the family had come home.

The Milonga Chronicles: Coup d´Etat

I call Gricel to tell them how many will be at my table Friday night.  "Deby"  He says to me, "I have bad news. We are going to be closed until next week."  That means I will just go to Lucy's and it will be crowded.  Sandra won't go.  Neither will Marta. Not important.  I like Lucy's milonga.

I give Holly my new guest a cultural experience.  We go on the subte.  I can't afford to do the taxi in both directions and I cannot expect my guests to always pay for me.  I explain to her how the Central de Leonesa is actually the Lion's Club.  On Thursdays it is the milonga called "Niño Bien."  It is rented on other days of the week to other organizor's for different milongas.  I come here on Mondays for Atilio's milonga as well.

We enter the stately building.  I always enjoy walking up the two lovely flights of stairs.  Sandra always insists on the elevator.  I hate it.  I remember having to use it when I was on crutches and could not walk.  I prefer the stairs.  As we enter I greet my friends.  It is crowded.  People are spilling out into the entrance area.

We walk into the milonga.  I see my table.  There are 3 women I do not know there and the woman I always share the table with.  There are two empty chairs.  Graciela throws her arms around me.  Because it is so crowded she is working the milonga.  She usually works with Juan and Atilio.  I show her my table.  My seats are occupied, but it is not a big deal.

Lucy comes up "Negrita" she greets me.  She gives me a big hug.  "Why didn't you call me?" she demands. I tell her I sent a text message.  She says she didn't get it.  I am not surprised.  Lately the cell phones have been a bit of a disaster.  She shakes her head.  "What are we going to do about your table?" she asks.  I tell her "No importa, hay sillas."  She tells me to wait until the tanda is over and she will go over and talk to the women.  It really is not a big deal to me.  But Lucy insists.

I go over to the table, the woman who  normally shares with me is dancing.  This leaves the 3 others.  I have seen them before.  One is a blond who has hair that looks like it came from a costume store wig shop - cork screw curly - over dyed blond.  She is stuffed into her too tight dress.  In my opinion, not a pretty nor sexy site.  Actually pretty scary.  Mujer grasa.  I smile sweetly.  "Podemos compartir las sillas?" I ask.  She gives me a venenmous look.  She knows this is my table and under normal circumstances she would not have such a good place to sit.  She tosses her "payaso" hair and tells me I need to talk to Lucy.  She is hoping Lucy will tell me I cannot sit at my own table. Tonta, whatever is she thinking?

I look at one of the other women.  One fans herself and looks away.  The other tells me to go talk to Lucy.  So I do.  Lucy of course has no problem defending my table.  I just hate to bug her when the milonga is so full.  So off we go.  In minutes we are seated with Payaso hair and her friends.  They are none too thrilled.  I explain to Holly they don't like the contrast of sitting with me.  They don't like me.  I don't care.  She asks if she buys a bottle of champagne for the table would that help.

I explain to her that her offer is kind but no.  They would suck the champagne down and think she was stupid.  They would not see it as a kind gesture of friendship.  They would see her as a "yanqui estupida".  I tell her they are low class and not the type to befriend.  The other woman who shares the table is a nice lady, these women are not.  I tell Holly, "It is because of these kind of women that Sandra does not like to come to this milonga. She prefers Gricel."

Holly and I are separated by Fan woman.  We cannot talk unless she goes to dance or we must talk around her.  I look around the room.  It is very crowded.  Many people who normally go to Gricel are here.  It is impossible to dance.  I will just watch until there are less people on the floor.

I catch the eye of a man I know who signals that he would like to dance with Holly.  I tell her.  She asks me if he is a good dancer.  I tell her that he is a nice man and he dances nicely. After all, how well someone dances is relative, isn't it?  She goes off to dance.

I go over to the table of "milongueros" to greet them. "Mi novia" says Pepino. Ricardo mocks surprise, "I thought she was my girlfriend." "Gentlemen,"  Itell them, "For a tanda, I am both of yours."  I move down the aisle and greet my friends.  This is something I like to do.  This milonga is so large.

I come back to the table.  Holly has been dancing.  I am glad.  It is not always easy in this milonga to dance.  It is really annoying for us to have to talk around Fan woman.  Finally I ask her "Do you think we could change seats so I could sit next to my friend?"  She tells me sticking her nose into the air "No, this is my table, and when the woman next to you leaves I am going to move into my normal seat." I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing.  I look at the woman who normally shares the table with me. She smiles.  Because the "the seat" she is talking about is my normal seat and this woman has never sat at this table.

It is funny how people like to posture and impress.  I am sure Fan woman thinks that both Holly and I are tourists.  She doesn't know that I live here.  She doesn't know that this is actually my table that I share.  It is sort of funny that she wants to one up me and impress me or something. Probably to make us feel bad or insecure or something. Because she is Fan woman and we are not.

I once was given some very good advice years ago when I moved to California and I was working retail. My then boss told me to be careful because you never knew who you were talking to.  In California, a millionaire could be the one with the dirty tennis shoes and torn jeans. Unfortunately many people let their egos get in the way.

When the chair next to me vacates, before Fan woman can move her plump body to it I pick myself up and move and motion for Holly to sit next to me.  Fan woman's jaw drops.  Curses, foiled again!  Only I don't think that is quite what she is thinking.  The woman who normally shares this table with me laughs out loud.

Fan woman sticks her nose into the air and assumes a haughty pose with her fan.  She is fanning herself so hard she could replace the air conditioning.  She is not happy about my little coup d etat. It was completely unexpected.  Foreigners are not supposed to behave this way.  I smile at Holly.  Time to dance.

The tale of two tangos: one for money, one for love

Today I opened up El Tangauta one of the local tango magazines. I flipped through it.  I felt 100% disconnected.  I have danced tango in Buenos Aires for 8 years.  I am known in most of the milongas. Flipping through this magazine was an out of body  experience.  It might as well have been a magazine dedicated to raising poodles in Venezuela.

I remember the rush of excitement the first time I opened El Tangauta and BA Tango.  I was mesmerized. These were magazines about tango.  The dance I was falling in love with.  The stories were about real people who danced in the milongas.  The magazines used the milongas as their basis.  They were your connection to what was going on.

Now there are many magazines pushing tango.  Tango is big business.  The magazines for the most part are glossy advertising journals.  Most of the people who advertise in them have never danced or been inside a milonga.  The majority of teachers are ballet or contemporary dancers  who have found a gold mine teaching foreigners a dance they themselves do not know how to dance. 

I have no idea who most of these people are.  Slickly dressed, smartly posed, they advertise their classes.  English spoken, German spoken, ads poised for foreigners.  I remember the few ads that graced these magazines 8 years ago.  A simple printed ad with a name and phone number.

Pages and pages of shoes and clothes.  How can so many places stay in business?  8 years ago the shoes were made of leather.  Now they are mostly made of cardboard. (Oh yes they are) Cardboard mixed with leather with plastic heels.  For this women throw a $100 USD or more for them.  Tango shoes they can barely stand in. Shoes that hurt their feet.  But damn, they sure look sexy, don't they?  Just like a real tango dancer looks.  Whatever that means....

Tango Festivals, Tango weeks.  Get them here and lock them up.  Get all their money at once.  How many tango weeks and festivals can you have?  They are never ending.  Name brands grace their names on the banners.

People who can barely walk gracefully are being sold classes in show tango and fantasia. They want to learn how to jump,lean, and do things most 20 somethings can't do.  The foreign women look for "tango clothes."  They clamor to look like the "teachers".  The "real" tango gets lost between tango nuevo and everything else.

There is almost a hysteria surrounding some people when they come here.  They want to take classes every day with every name brand they can find.  They hope that these people can imbue their dance so that they go home as Buenos Aires superstars.  Some never even make to milongas they are taking so many classes.  Between that and buying shoes they help to fuel our local economy.

When I came here in 2000, the peso was one to one with the dollar.  The Senior Tango show with dinner was I believe $80.  Today I hear it is close to $200.  There are so many new shows, I can't keep track of them.  The latest Tango Porteño on Pelligrini is considered one of the swankiest.  The producer used to have one of the best milongas in Buenos Aires. Now this.

My head spins.  Is this tango?  Is this what tango is becoming?  Is this a tango I don't know?  Am I being left behind?  I feel outsourced.

Then I walk into one of my favorite milongas. Or most of the  milongas here in Buenos Aires. I look around. There are no fancy show moves.  Just people dancing. In close embrace. No slinky 500 peso dresses.  No name brands.  They won't find students here.

DiSarli is playing with Roberto Florio singing.  Eyes dart around the room.  Who to dance this lovely tanda with.  Who to feel the passion of Florio's voice, DiSarli's music?  Eyes meet, heads nod in agreement. Two bodies become one.  For the love of the music.  For tango.

En Duelo

Things are have not been the way they were.  Or maybe I am not the way I was. "You are "en duelo" says Michael. I think about what he says.  I guess I never thought I was in mourning, but I guess I am.  In little ways.  At night when I am out, I always look at my cell to see what time it is.  I get this nagging feeling that I need to get home to walk Roxie.  Or when I get out of bed I still find myself stepping around her, only there is no her.

I need to take my mind off of this.  So I join the gym a couple of blocks down from my apartment.  For the first time since I left California I am finding myself happy to be in the gym again - and 5 kilos lighter. I used to love the gym when I lived in Oakland.  I belonged to this fancy place called Club One.  It had to be one of the nicest gyms in the world.  Now I am on the other end. I think they sent all the old used equipment from California to my gym here. I have no excuse to not go to the gym.  So I just go. I like it.

This is a Barrio gym.  I watch the ladies of 70 and 80 years of age come for the stretching classes.  It is delightful.  The first time I took this class I was the youngest one in the class, except for the two gay guys.  This gym is friendly.  There is no pretenses.  Kind of like a Golds gym before they got fancy.

The other day I was waiting for the subte.  There has been a bit more crime since inflation has gone crazy here.  You have to pay more attention.  I usually do.  It is the 6th sense one develops from city living. I sat down on the bench to wait.  Something told me that day to leave the Ipod at home. Not sure why, but I did. 

I notice a suspicious looking character.  A young man, sort of sleazy is checking me out, but not in the way a young man usually checks out a woman.  Besides it is almost 80 degrees outside and he has a jacket slung over his arm.  I keep my eye on him.

Soon he is joined by a friend.  Most Argentine men kiss when they meet.  These guys go into conference.  Who taught these guys how to be scam artists?  They are standing about 30 feet from me.  They both look at me.  A bag lady sits down next to me.  She reaches into her bag and pulls out a wash cloth and begins to wash her face.  When she does this she looks at Dumb and Dumber across the aisle.  I swear, sometimes I feel like I live in a made for TV movie.

She turns to me.  "Una consulta. On which side is the street Pasco?"  she asks.  I just love it.  This is how they figure out if you are a tourist.  Keeping my eye on Dumb and Dumber who are stupidly starring at us while I half turn to bag lady I tell her, "You can't get to Pasco from these trains.  You need to take that train to Catedral and then change to the A." I wonder what kind of a scam they want to try and pull on me.  I hope not the mustard scam because I am wearing all black and I would have to kill them.

She wasn't ready for the correct information coming out with my accent. So she decides to argue with me. "No" she says to me.  "I can get off at Puerrydon and walk 2 blocks to Pasco?"  I give her a disgusted look, get up and tell her "Catedral, y subte A."  I walk away from her.  She nervously looks up to Dumb and Dumber.

When I turn around, Bag Lady is gone.  So are Dumb and Dumber.  The train comes.  I get on and stand at the door.  I realize Dumber is on the train with me.  He is looking at me.  These guys are really stupid.  He is standing right next to me.  So I move across to the other door and stare at him.  This unnerves him.  I look him straight in the eye.  I give him my Oaktown "Don't you be messing with me stare."

I am not sure what he thinks he is going to steal from me.  Maybe my Halls fuerte candies.  I continue to stare at him.  He was not prepared for this.  The subte stops at Scalabrini.  The door opens.  He sticks his head out.  He is looking for someone to signal.  He sees them.  He brings his head back in. Idiot.  I continue to stare at him.  I give him the Brown connection stare.  Guaranteed to peel wallpaper off walls.  He's lucky he never met my mother.  Then he would really be scared.

He was not prepared for this.  I am sure he figured he would either get my purse or my cell phone.  He was not prepared to have me stare him down.   Now I am making him uneasy.  I never once break my stare. He says something to me.  I can't make it out so I glare at him. The subte stops at Aguero.  He gives me one last look.  He gets off, and gets on at the next door, walks into the next train.  Hopefully to find someone much easier than me.

I am dancing again.  Mostly in the afternoons.  For awhile there were not many people in the milongas. There still aren't really. Not like before.  Tourism is down.  I guess in a world crisis, dancing tango is not a priority.  At home, people just don't have the money to go out all the time. In the Argentine crisis people danced.  That was because the milongas were only 6 pesos. How come in the world crisis they are 15?

My friend Marcelo just got back from touring Europe.  He is a folkloric dancer.  He was gone 4 months.  He got sticker shock when he came back.  He could not believe how much prices went up in the short time he was gone. Welcome home.

The high prices are keeping people off the streets.  Maybe not all of them.  Now that the world is in crisis I wonder what that will do to tourism here.  All those overbuilt hotels, restaurants.  Worst of all those horrible tower apartments.  The sad thing is they are still building more. Go on boys! Knock down those beautiful old buildings.  Put up those ugly tower apartments no one is buying.  Can you spell F I R E S A L E?

I seem to be fighting with more taxi drivers these days.  Less fares.  They hear the accent.  They go how they want. I fight with them all the way.  The last guy even had the nerve to say to me "You live here?" and when I told him yes. He actually apologized and turned the meter off.  Of course I had already told him I was not going to pay him any more than 16 pesos and we were already at 18.

Argentines who fled the country in for greener pastures abroad are now sending their money back home.  Failing banks in the U.S. and Europe have them scared.  For all the rhetoric about Argentina, here we are.  Stable.  Except we still don't have enough change for the bus.

Life is good here.  I have few complaints.  I miss my girl.  I know though.  It is only a matter of time. A pit bull somewhere is being born with her soul.  And we will find each other.