TangoSpam:La Vida Con Deby

Un dia y una noche de los cretinos

My friend Trini in Pittsburgh, a tango teacher, has referred another one of her students to me.  I meet him at his apartment. Alex is adorable, although he looks a little like the wild man from Borneo.  He is 22 and here on vacation with his parents for about a week.  Trini told him to contact me so that he would not waste time trying figure things out in the short time he is here.  Alex calls me his mini-tango tour.

First on our agenda is shoes. We decide to take the subte.  Actually Alex decides since he is paying. He chooses frugality over seeing the city. I am thinking the row of shoe stores on Suipacha where I know the owners.  If he finds nothing there we can go to some other stores as well.  He does not have enough time to have shoes made.

I ask Alex what his criteria is.  I have stopped trying to suggest and recommend.   He tells me "The most important thing for him is quality and the support of the shoe."  My head whips around faster than the exorcist. I look at him, "What color are you looking for?"  Expecting to hear about 12 colors with stars, he says to me simply "Black." With a sigh of relief, I tell him that my shoemaker makes the best shoes. We get out at 9 de Julio but we do not leave the station.  I call their store to ask if they have anything in Alex's size and in black.  Silvia says yes.  We head for the C train.  I let Alex know we are going to one of the worst parts of town.  "See how nice I am to you."  I tell him.  "I show you every part of Buenos AIres, not just the Recoleta."  He laughs.

When we get to Leo's there is a nice surprise, Leo herself is in the store.  I am shocked.  She almost never comes to the store.  She stays in Quilmes and works with her husband and son.  She handles the orders for the shows and the dancers who have worked with her for years before they had the store.  In recent years her health has not been good.  Today she looks radiant.

While Silvia her daughter attends to Alex, Leo and I chat.  I tell her about my back and hip.  I tell her that I am hardly dancing these days.  She tells me about her physical therapist and how he has helped her.  She gives me his information and begs me to call him.  She says he is the reason she looks and feels so well.  She says she hates doctors now.  "They are all chantas." (deceivers - fakes) she says.

Alex is euphoric over the shoes.  He is thrilled with the quality.  He finds a pair he really likes and Leo makes a special price for him.  Now he is really really thrilled.  She fixes the backs for him so they are softer and he gets a shoe bag.

The shoe thing happened faster than we anticipated.  I ask Alex what he has seen here.  Almost nothing.  The cemetary.  "You came to Buenos AIres to see dead people?"  I ask him  He thinks about it.  "Well it is a famous  cemetary." he says to me.  I decide to take him to Avenida de Mayo and Cafe Tortoni.  I give him a short tour and a history of the street.  When we get to Tortoni there is a line.  I hate this.  There are probably many tables inside.  This is a new game they play with the tourists.  Alex does not want to wait.

"Let's go to Las Violetas."  I suggest.  We go back to the subte.  ALex is enamored with the subte.  I explain the history of the A line to him.  I am also talking about some of the politics of Argentina.   He asks me lots of questions. 

I ask Alex if he likes sweets.  He says yes.  I tell him that Las Violetas is a good place for him  To me it is one of the most beautiful places in Buenos AIres.  I am not so sure he is that impressed.  He is a 22 year old guy.  He takes in the architecture and has a soda and a sandwich.  I have my cortado doble. 

Now I must tell him.  "Alex, women here in the milongas prefer their men to be clean shaven, with less hair." He tells me he thought I might say that.  He asks me what he should do.  I tell him he should get a haircut and shave.  He is reluctant because of cost.  "You are in Buenos Aires"  I tell him, "It will be much less than the US."  I cannot believe what I am about to do, "I will call my ex-boyfriend. He is great.  He will do a good job and he is very reasonable.  Way less than the guy who cuts my hair." Alex says OK.

I call Felipe. He is thrilled to hear my voice.  I ask him if he is busy. He is busy asking me how I am.  I am ignoring that.  I tell him I have a Northamerican boy with me who has out of control hair, can he help me.  He says yes.  Please come.  So we do.

Alex and I go to his shop.  He has cleaned it up alot.  He is getting his haircut by one of the women in his salon.  He ignores me.  Fine.  I know this Agentine male game.  I ignore him.  We wait.  Very professional.  Make your customer wait while you get your own hair cut.  Fuss about it.  Talk to your staff, ignore your customer.

 Finally when he decides he is gorgeous enough he comes over to greet me.  I am an ice cube. I offer my cheek.  Alex goes to the chair.  I tell him to cut all the hair off and trim the beard.  Felipe takes me in.  He knows I am still very angry at him.  One of the women in his shop dances tango - more or less. She is trying to sell me a pair of low quality shoes.  I ignore her.  Finally she leaves.

Felipe asks me about Alex.  I explain I am helping him with shoes, classes, and milongas. Felipe tells me he has contacts for shoes.  Before he can finish I start. "I do not need your gatos negros.  I know you have your contacts.  I remember them do you?"  He shuts up.  "I have my own contacts. I do not need anything from you.  Your contacts. " He looks at me.  "You like your gatos negros more than you value anything good. Do you remember how you ended our relationship?  It was more important that you have your grand friendship with that mediocre tango singer- lousy tango teacher than your relationship with me." He looks down.  "I haven't seen her in ages." I continue (because it is fun to finally tell him how I really feel) "Don't lie, you were doing her hair until at least July, because it was just like mine was.  Now it looks like a clown wig.  What happened, did she rob you? "  I see something pass through his eyes. "Or did she break up another one of your relationships." He says nothing, but I know I pushed a button. "Que lastima."  I spit at him.

For once he does not smooze me with how beautiful I am or say something about how thin I am.  He always gave me a bad time about my weight before.  Now I am 8 kilos less since then. (About 17lbs)My hair is long.  He doesn't have to say a thing. For the first time since I have known him, he is quiet. He says nothing.  He finishes Alex's hair and charges him half.  He thanks me and kisses my cheek.  I say nothing.  1 cretino down....2 to go.

That night we all decide to meet in Gricel.  I reserve my table. Even Sandra says she will come.  I pick up Alex.  He is excited to go to his first milonga.  Soon we are joined by Deborah, my friend from Monterey, California, and my friend Marta. 

I take Alex out to dance.  He is nice to dance with.  He is very nervous.  "Relax."  I tell him. "I only stab people I don't like."  He laughs a little, but he is still nervous.  "You are a really good dancer."  He says to me.  "Why thank you darling, but before the night is out, you will dance with lots of good dancers."  I say to him. "And you dance nicely yourself."

I bring him back to the table and tell Marta that he dances very nicely.  She says "Vamos a probar." (We will test him)  My friend Deborah is being asked to dance.  I tell her the guy is OK.  Alex asks me about a woman in front of us.  I tell him no, but to ask the woman at the next table over.  This goes on for several tandas.  They make fun of me.  I tell them I am like an AWACS system for tango.  They are actually grateful.  No bad dances for them.

Then I look up. "Hola flaca, que linda sos." I take a deep breath. It is Emilio.  Cretino #2.  Sandra's ex.  I cannot believe he is here.  What the hell is he doing here?  He has not been here in ages.  I freeze.  "Estoy bien loco."  I say to him.  He kisses my cheek and goes to his table.  I do not know what to do.

I am afraid to text Sandra. I want her to come.  But que pesado. What to do.  Then I see her "friend" Capo on the other side of the room.  So I know she will be here. I decide not to text her. As I put my phone away she is coming to the table.  Our eyes meet.  She has seen Emilio.  "Que feo el esta."  I say to her.  She nods her head.  I already talked to her earlier about my escapades with Felipe.

She goes off to dance with Capo.  Marta goes to dance with Emilio.  Jorge "nuestro ahijado" comes. The table is filling up. Deborah asks me about a man. I make a siren sound "Noooooo" She and Alex laugh.  "Do not dance with anyone in that row"  I tell her.  "You will severely regret it."

Marta and Sandra come back from their tandas.  Marta tells Sandra that Emilio thinks Sandra looks ugly.  What a thing to say.  What does she expect him to say?  He is such a .....cretino. I tell Sandra that she looks beautiful.  I love her dress.  It is another one of the dresses that she has made.

We are all enjoying the milonga and being together when I look up. "Hijo de puta" Sandra and Marta look up and around to where I am looking.  Cretino #3.  Sandra laughs.  She says to me "Don't hit him." I laugh at her "Don't worry, I don't have the energy after Felipe."  Marta not to be outdone reprimands me as well, "Don't start wtih him, OK?" I roll my eyes.  "I am not interesting in starting anything with him.  I don't even know why he is here."

I make sure I know where he is.  He is at a table in the corner.  I go to dance with Alex.  I feel his eyes burning into my back.  I look up.  Not at him, but I see him staring at me.  I keep dancing.  My back hurts.  I don't care.  For the next two hours he stares at me.  Those brown eyes.

Sandra and I.  We cannot believe it.  What the hell are they doing here?  They do not want us.  They just want to torture us.  How simply Argentine male.  Back to the days of the Arrabal.   We ignore them.  Completely.  Finally they leave.  Los cretinos.

One day when Sandra was depressed over Emilio and how he was treating her. I downloaded a picture of the 3 stooges.  I wrote their names on each of one of the stooges.  Los 3 chiflados.  Later we referred to them as los cretinos.  Time has a way of healing all wounds.  Because now they really are los 3 cretinos.

Chau Max, Te Adoro Corazon

Max was one of the first people I met dancing tango in the Bay Area.  She died yesterday.  Her son sent me an email.  I hope now she is at peace dancing La Cumparsita with a man she can truly enjoy dancing with.  Her last months here were anything but happy.  It makes me very sad.  Very sad.  There are two people in California that kept me dancing tango, she was one of them.  Otherwise I would probably still be dancing salsa.  Then where would my life be?

I first met Max in Nora's class in The Beat.  It was my first tango class.  A friend was going to go to Argentina with Nora.  She had never taken a tango class in her life.  She thought tango was easy.  I had danced all of my life.  I was sick of salsa and wanted to try something new.  It was either tango or going back to swing.  My friend urged me to try tango.  I went with her to Nora's class.  What a nightmare.

Nora had two assistants. One was Max, the other shall remain nameless, she was a Nazi.  Max was on one side of the room, the Nazi was on the other.  I got stuck with the Nazi.  She ripped me to shreds.  I decided I could not dance tango.  Me who could usually pick up most dances in one or two lessons.  When I was leaving I felt a small hand on my arm and heard a quiet voice say; "Come back, try again." I turned.  It was the other person.  It was Max.

I didn't come back.  Not for a long time.  Then I decided to try again.  I went to Nora's class in The Beat.  There was Nora, the Nazi, and Max.  I got stuck with the Nazi again.  Only this time Max came to my rescue.  She brought Nora over to help me.  I am not sure that was any better. My salsa hips drove them crazy.  I was miserable. I had worked 8 years to perfect those salsa hips and now in tango they were sudden death.  The only difference between Nora and the Nazi, was that I knew Nora wanted me to dance, Nora really cared, I think the Nazi just wanted to torture me.  I wanted to cry.

Max took me aside.  She was so kind.  She took my hand in hers. She told me not to worry.  She told me that tango was the hardest dance to learn.  She told me that I was going to learn and not to worry.  Then she told me that we do not choose the tango, the tango chooses us, to please come back.  She had such warm brown eyes. She had the most incredible energy. It just flowed from her heart.

I did go back. I continued with tango. The funny thing was Max and I became friends on our trips to Buenos Aires.  It seemed that every time I was in Buenos Aires so was Max.  I would be in Club Español for the afternoon milonga, and in would come Max with her friend Shirley.  I would see her in Lo de Celia. El Arranque, and other milongas.  We used to joke about it all the time.

Then we both moved here. We went in different directions.  I would see her from time to time.  She was in San Telmo, I was in Palermo.  We ran with different crowds.  She had a boyfriend.  The relationship ended badly, she needed help.

I am not sure what happened.  Us American women don't always do well with the Argentine men.  Our cultures are so different.  Max and I spent hours and hours talking about her failed relationship, about her life here.  She saw me as thriving here, she saw herself as failing.  Nothing I could do would change that.  She had so many people here who loved her dearly.  She could not feel that love.  She could only feel the failure of the relationship.  I could empathize.  I know how profound the emotions are with the men here.

I constantly reminded her of how she was so supportive of me when I first started to dance.  She remembered that first class with the Nazi and how she ripped me to shreds.  We laughed about it.  I told her how I always thought she was Nora's best assistant. (Before Ed of course)

Her son came to take her back the US to get healthy again.  It was the best solution.  He said she was doing well.  She was seeing professionals there.  She was going to move into her own place.  Everyone who knew her wanted her to get well.

In the end Max gave up.  And now, I hope she has found the perfect man to dance La Cumparsita with. This has been a very bad year for me.  I lost two people I love very much.  In September I lost Roxie. I still cannot bear to think of her.  And now I have lost Max. Te Adoro...Corazon...I hope you are with my Roxie.

Felices Fiestas....

I am walking down Scalabrini to pay my obra social.  (insurance payment.) It has more than tripled in 3 years.  In pesos the amount is horrifying.  I convert it to dollars to feel better. I have been saving for months to pay for this.  Even though, when I got the invoice, it was painful. 

There is no way in the US I could get any type of insurance plan that would come close to this plan for what I pay here.  I probably should have shopped around.  I have one of the better insurance plans offered.  When you have a less expensive plan you have less access to better doctors.  That is what many foreigners do not understand when they start to compare plans.  The services are the same, the doctors are not.  How do I know this?  Because some of my doctors have stopped accepting my plan.  They say that they no longer want to accept insurance period.  They say they can make more money without accepting insurance.  I wonder how they think they can do surgery without insurance.  I don't want to think about it.

Inflation is eating us alive.  We are doing what we can.  Argentines don't complain.  They are used to it.  The economy is good, the economy is bad.  Prices are high, prices are low.  They take it all in stride.  There is nothing they can do.  They just accept it.  I find myself becoming the same.  Now I know why Argentine women don't eat. Prices are too high.  That is one way to go on a diet.

Christina has managed to have lower approval ratings than George Bush.  How could this be possible? So now she is on a campaign to improve our lives.  Better roads, blah, blah, blah.  Lower inflation, doll face. That would really help things.  And please, while you are at it, instead of spending our millions on your clothes, could you please do something about your horrible makeup and hair?  Ryan would do a much better job than whoever is mangling your face now. I think I am becoming a real Argentine...listen to me complain!

Today is the 22nd.  It will be Christmas in a few days.  A couple weeks ago a couple of friends of mine were here from San Francisco visiting.  They asked me if Argentines believed in Christmas.  I thought that was a strange question.  "What do you mean?"  I asked them.  "There is no Christmas anywhere." was their response.  I had to think about what they were saying. 

In the U.S. Christmas starts after Halloween.  The stores start to decorate.  Here we don't decorate that much.  Maybe a few stores paint their windows.  The Christmas spirit is inside.  For weeks my friends have been asking me what I am going to do.  Everyone wants to make sure that I have somewhere to go.  Our conversations have concentrated on food, family, and friends.  Not on gifts.

Yesterday I talked to my dearest friend Eva. She talked about shopping at Wal-Mart.  Still she talked about gifts.  I talked about my friends.  Eva lived in Guatemala for years so she knows what the holidays are like in Latin America.  She said that in Guatemala they spent the day visiting people before having dinner with family.  In the US even with the "global crisis" people are still talking about gifts.  My gifts will be pan dulces that I will buy tomorrow from my favorite bakery. 

I am still not sure what I am going to do.  Either I will go to Sandra's or I will have people in my apartment.  There are so many people here who have no where to go.  I don't think it will be fair to descend on Sandra with hordes of people.  She says it will be OK.  We are after all sisters. 

I continue to walk up Scalabrini.  Soon I reach the door of my obra social.  They buzz me in.  I go to the cashier.  I hand over the invoice and all the pesos neatly counted, paper clipped together.  The young man smiles.  Then he laughs.  I tell him I am very organized.  It is just how I am.  He thanks me.  He tells me he wishes everyone was like me.  "You would not believe how people come in and throw their money at me.  Everyone is really angry."  I can imagine.  After he counts the money and stamps my receipts, he hands it to me with my paper clips.  "Felices fiestas Señora, muchas gracias." then he pauses, he leans across his window and kisses my cheek.  And you wonder why I continue to live in Argentina.

No me gusta la milonga

"Yo soy bohemio."  Roberto is explaining to my friend Deborah why he does not like the milongas. "I love the night.  It is my passion." He says to her. "El tango es como una mujer, y como mi buena compañera," he stops and nods at me, "es como haciendo amor todo la noche." I explain to Deborah what he has just said.  That to him he loves the night, that is his passion, and the tango his his woman.  When I am with him, to dance tango, when I can, it is like making love all night.

He continues, "No voy a la milonga por la gente - mira, mira, mira. Si quiero eso, voy a bailar en el teatro o en el show.  Me voy por el musico, el tango."   (I don't go so that people will see me.  If I want that, then I will dance in the theater or in a show. I go for the music, the tango.) 

Last night we went to Ideal.  I told Deborah and two other people before we went, that Ideal on Thursday night is very mellow.  Roberto and I go every Thursday.  We are "invitada de la casa."  We never know how it will be.  Every once in awhile it is crowded.  Last week when Los Reyes of Tango played it was overflowing.  The week before when the Queer Tango Festival was there, it was the same.  Most of the time it is mellow.

There is always live music.  Sometimes the dancers are pretty comical.  There is a couple who looks like they are out of a Carole Burnett skit.  They come every week with their dramatic presentations. Even Roberto gets a kick out of watching them.

There are organizers from other milongas, there are show dancers, there people with names.  They want to be left alone.  They come dressed down.  They want to relax.  They too are bohemians.  They love the night.  They love the tango.  Some greet us, some do not. In the last weeks I have been coming regularly with Roberto.  A young man who is a professional dancer and quite accomplished, told Roberto he happy to see him out and well accompanied.  

On this night Sexteto Milonguero is to play.  I have never heard them.  While I walk through Ideal greeting the few people I know, I realize that I know these chicos from the milongas. I never knew that they were musicians.  The radio and the tv are both here to film and record them.  Roberto says it is a shame that I cannot dance, because they have asked to film us.  My back is a mess.  I have too much pain to be reliable.

Roberto takes Deborah to dance.  I go sit with Patricio who has the milonga on Mondays at Gricel.  "Where have you been?"  He asks me.  I tell him I don't go out much since the problems with my back.  "You look great out there with Roberto."  He tells me.  "Yes, because he knows my limitations.  He knows what I can and cannot do.  Someone else would kill me."  I tell him.  I tell him how I am terrorizing the medical community here.  He laughs.  He tells me he has a doctor and he will find the number for me.  "Estas muy delgada ahora." (you are very thin now) I shrug my shoulders.  Everyone is telling me that.

Deborah comes back beaming from the floor.  "How was your dance?"  I ask her.  "Are you kidding?" she says to me.  "How could a dance with him not be wonderful.  He is such a gentleman. So smooth, so gentle. Wow."  She sits down.  Then Roberto taps me on the arm, "What did she say."  I am tempted to tell him she said he sucks, but I know better.  This whole thing of being with foreigners is new to him.  Being thrown in an environment where he is dependent on me to translate and tell him what is going on is a little bit unsettling. I tell him the truth.

The other people at our table decide to leave.  Ideal is too tame for them.  They are in search of something else.  They want action.  I explain to them I never said that this was a milonga where there would be lots of "action."  They don't understand.

The foreigners confuse Roberto.  He doesn't understand what they are looking for.  He doesn't understand how people who do not know how to dance are teaching and touring.  He doesn't like going to milongas because for him the milonga is not a place to do business.  Yet this is what it has become in many of them.  It is a place to hear music.  To enjoy the night.

He watches the couple leave in a hurry, angry.  He takes my hand.  We listen to Sexteto Milonguero.  They are amazing.  Deborah and I are memorized by the singer.  "This is the future of tango." says Roberto.  "Sexteto Mayor, Los Reyes del Tango, they are wonderful, but they are old guys.  It is these young men, who are now playing the music, that will carry on with our tango."

Sandra calls me this morning.  "Como estuvo Ideal?"  she asks me.  I tell her.  She loves Sexteto Milonguero.  "Los chicos son amorosos." she says to me.  I agree.  I tell her I never knew those guys were musicians.  I told her Roberto would have died if he knew the singer grabbed me and kissed me and told me that if el Maestro didn't want me anymore he would be waiting.  Sandra laughs, "Yeah, he never wanted you 8 kilos ago."  I laugh with her.  "Yeah, huh."  Stupid Argentine men and their fixations with skinny women.

We talk about the milonga.  I tell her how the foreigners with us didn't really like Ideal.  "I can't get Roberto to go to other milongas.  He doesn't really like them."  Sandra thinks about it. "Tiene razon." she says to me.  "Queda fea, las milongas."  It is pretty much why she has stopped going as well. "La histeria, la competencia, y todas las cosas, noo." She says to me. "No lo quiero."

I guess for me, it doesn't bother me.  I ignore it.  I choose my milongas carefully and I ignore what goes on.  I don't need the validation of others.  If it does get to be too much, I stop going for awhile.  The milongas at night are worse than the afternoon milongas, which is why I go to more afternoon milongas.

In many ways, I understand why the Argentines feel the foreigners have ruined our milongas.  There are more gatos in the night milongas.  They crawl through the crowds looking for prey.  My cleaning lady said they sounded more like spiders decending on the masses to her.  She said they make her skin crawl when she hears me talk about the teachers and the taxi dancers going after the tourists.

On Friday I go to Lucy and Luis' milonga.  I love this milonga.  It has been a few weeks since I have been.  I am going alone.  Probably I will meet Pia and Ana there, but they sit at a different table.  I usually visit with them.  My table is up front in the first row.  They sit along the back. 

I greet the women I share the table with.  They ask how my back is.  I am not going to dance much.  I love the music of Carlos Rey, so I don't mind not dancing and just listening to the music.  I get up to greet my friends. 

One friend tells me this is the last time he will be at this milonga.  I ask him why.  First he jokes and tells me because I won't fall in love with him.  Then he tells me it is time to move on, do other things. "You once told me what the milonga was like, and I did not agree." he says.  "Now I know better."  There was a time when he was seeing a woman from the milonga.  Sandra and I knew what she was about.  We were sort of surprised he was seeing her.  But then you know.  He is a guy, and she is a woman... He is a nice guy.  She is a not so nice woman.  I am sure something not so nice happened. He hugs me.  "Don't forget my email."  "Of course not."  I say to him.  People come and go from the milonga.  I feel sad.  I like my friend.

I continue working my way around the room saying hello to friends.  I like to do this.  Central Leonesa is a big room and you cannot possibly just nod to people.  I stop at a table with an older woman.  I sit down to talk to her.  Usually she is with a gentleman.  Tonight she is alone.  She is happy to see me.

She tells me her friend is with his family.  She looks sad.  She asks me about Roberto.  I tell her he is home. He teaches in his academia and then stays home.  I always go out on Fridays alone.  She asks me if I know if he is truly single.  I tell her yes, he is a widower.  I know this for sure.  She tells me her friend his married. I had always thought that they were a couple.  I recently found out from someone else that he was married to someone else.  That surprised me.

She told me that she met him years ago in the milonga.   "I was so innocent.  I knew nothing." She said to me. "I was just learning to dance tango."   He hooked her.  Now 12 years later she is still hooked.

She looks very sad.  I have always liked this woman.  I am sure she has her reasons for staying with this man.  "The milonga is a very ugly place." she says to me.  "Very ugly.  But still we come.  I don't know why."  She puts her hand in mine and squeezes it. "Because we like the music."  I tell her.

® Deby Novitz 2008TangoSpam all rights reserved.  No parts of this may be reproduced without permission of the author

Donde Esta Sandra?

Sandra and I are like muy hermanas. (Like sisters)  We are always together.  Everyone knows us as that. Then all of a sudden she was not around.  Breaking plans.  Always tired.  I would go to dance and everyone would ask "Sandra?" and I would answer "Tiene una cita con sillon." (She has a date with her couch."  She would laugh when I would tell her that.  Soon people stopped asking about her.  Then they would make jokes about her being one of the "Disparecidas" - dissappeared.

I knew that she wasn't mad at me.  I knew that she was tired.  I missed her.  We always have so much fun. I know she liked Gricel better on Friday nights, I prefered going to Leonesa.  But it was more than that.  Something else was going on.  She wasn't talking.  That is not like Sandra.  We always talk.

Then one Saturday morning she calls me and asks me what am I doing. I think it was not one of my better mornings.  She tells me she has a surprise for me.  She won't tell me what it is, but I have to come over to her apartment. Hmmm.  Later in the day I go over to her apartment.  When she opens the door, I am shocked.  There are clothes and fabrics all over the place.

She has a big smile on her face.  "This is my new project." she says to me.  "What do you think?"  I walk inside.  She has been designing clothes.  I pick up a dress.  "Wow" I say to her, "This is beautiful."  The dress is gorgeous.  Her friend Roxanna has crocheted tops to go over some of the dresses she has designed. 

A few months ago she was talking about designing shoes for tango.  I told her I did not think that this was a good idea.  There are so many stores with tango shoes.  She kept insisting hers would be different.  She never talked about it again.  Instead she became a secret clothing designer.

When I asked her how she planed to sell her secret designs.  She told me on the Internet - Mercado Libre. (Our version of Ebay) and through Salons in her apartment.  The first one was yesterday.  She (and I, and her friend Dorita) invited women to her apartment to view her collection. Along with the clothing was jewelry, accessories, and even formerly owned tango shoes.  It was fun.  There was miga sandwichs, cake, sodas, and of course mate.  Sandra's brother was the lone man.

I was a good girl.  I didn't buy anything......this time.  But lots of women did.  If you are coming to Buenos Aires or you are here.  If you would like to see Sandra's collection of clothing.  Please email me for details.

                                                                                       

     Two piece outfit - great for dancing tango

 

Old tango shoes never die.....

The Milonga Chronicles: First tango in Buenos Aires

Denise is here.  Finally.  She is my friend.  Obviously she is my friend.  Like many people we met through my blog.  I think she originally emailed me about shoes and classes and buying some of my time.  She was funny.  Somehow we began to email back and forth, and then we began to talk via messenger.

She lives on an island in Greece.  She has an ice cream store.  She loves tango.  It was her dream to spend her Greek winter during our summer dancing tango.  Because so few people dance tango on her island Buenos Aires was her dream vacation to learn to dance better.

We spent lots of nights talking about music, teachers, and dancing.  It seems arrogance in tango is universal all over the world.  I wonder why that is. So now after so many months of chatting she is here. In the flesh, cigarettes and all.

I tell her on Wednesday to go to Canning and take Miriam's class.  I will meet her there later. I have not been to Canning on a Wednesday afternoon for a while.  I have not been dancing much lately with all the pain.  When I do go on Wednesday it is to Lucy's milonga.

Denise asks me if I am sure I want to do this.  I tell of course.  I like to see my old friends once in awhile.  I love the waiters in Canning.  Besides, it is good to change milongas once in awhile.  The reality is I cannot dance that much anyway, so it really doesn't make a difference.

I enter Canning and greet my friends at the door.  They are as happy to see me as I am to see them. I enter the salon.  I look to the right and there is Denise sitting at a table with a long face.  I give her a hug.  "Come child"  I say to her, "This is not a good table."  She gets up, "I am so glad you are here," she says to me, "A cockroach broke my glass and spilled my water."  I look at her table and the table cloth is damp.  Sure enough her glass is broken.  "What happened?"  I asked her.

She tells me that this guy was driving her a little crazy.  He sat down at her table.  She said he looked like a cockroach. He wouldn't leave her alone so she got up to go outside to smoke.  When she came back the table was a mess.  Her glass was broken, there was water all over the place.  She wanted the waiter to know that she did not do it.

When we went up to the bar so I could ask for my table Denise starts blabbering to them in Greek, Italian, and Spanish.  I guess that is what happens when you speak lots of different languages. Sigh... I try to explain around her.  Finally I ask her to please let me explain for her.  When I do, the waiter, smiles and tells her not to worry.  I go to the bathroom to change my shoes.  When I come back Denise has a big smile on her face.  The waiter brought her a new bottle of water and a glass.  Not something usual. 

We watch the dancers.  Salon Canning on a Wednesday used to be the place to be.  Now there is hardly anyone here.  Even the DJ has changed. Then I see Rene.  He catches my eye.  I smile at him.  Rene was the first milonguero to help me dance.  It was 8 years ago. My first trip to Buenos Aires.

I was a dance disaster.  I thought I could dance.  I had learned steps in San Francisco, not how to follow.  I came here with a friend.  She hooked me up with a teacher who was nothing more than a milonga hustler.  I took a few lessons from him.  All he did was yell at me and tell me I was hopeless.  (Oh yes he did.  Good thing he now lives in Madrid.  Where he is still useless) 

Rene felt sorry for me.  He and his friends would take turns dancing with me in the milongas.  When my so-called useless teacher would tell me I was hopeless, they would patiently tell me how to follow, what to feel.  I remember telling Rene he was like a flying carpet.  He told me had been dancing for almost 50 years, since he was a small boy.

When the tanda ends, he comes running over - "Diosa!" he throws his arms around me. "Abulito!" I hug him back.  He asks me how I am. We chat for a bit and he tells me that he will dance the next tanda of tango with me.  I introduce him to Denise.  He gives her a big kiss and tells her that after me, he will dance with her.

I explain to her who Rene is.  She tells me that he was very sweet to her when she came in.  He is one of the few men who still comes to Canning.  Probably because it is close to his home.  His buddies all go to Lucy's milonga or sadly, they have gone to the milonga in the sky.

At the next tanda he comes for me.  I tell Denise to look at my feet and to watch my posture.  This will be the first time she has seen me dance.  I am only sorry that I have so much pain.  It is a tanda of Troilo.  I go to Rene.

After the first song Rene says to me as he always does "Do you remember the first time we danced?" "I would almost rather not."  I tell him. "You dance perfect now." he says to me.  I laugh.  I tell him who I am now dancing with.  He smiles.  "When I can. I am still so battered from that stupid car accident. Sometimes I don't think I will ever get better."  He touches my cheek.

After the next song he says to the couple next to us "We are going to get married.  Do you want to be the witnesses?"  The woman of course thinks I am a naive foreigner and says "Oh you are going to be married twice?"  I answer, "Don't worry, I am going to divorce him after the tanda, he needs to go home to the grandchildren." She laughs.

When we stop for the 3rd song he goes to kiss the woman next to us.  He says to her "Look at this milonguera I have."  The woman snorts "She is a foreigner." and laughs. It is an awkward moment.  I say nothing because I really don't care. She turns to her friend, a man that I know, and says "Milonguera.."  He looks at her and says "La piba baila muy bien." Now it is really uncomfortable.  I wish Rene would move us away, but he seems to actually enjoy this.  She says to her friend "Vas a bailar con ella?"  I feel sorry for this guy, because he knows, that reality is, I don't want to dance with him, but he goes, "Sure, I am going to ask her to dance later."  I smile at him.  I am happy the music starts..the politics of tango...Rene looks at me, his eyes are twinkling, "que bonita bailas."

I go back to the table. I don't like those kinds of little scenes.  I have enough drama in my life.  I look over to my left.  A man is inviting me to dance.  OK.  Why not.  It turns out he is Mexican from Guadalajara.  He is here to work 6 months.  I used to work in Guadalajara.  I ask him how he likes it here.

He thinks the Porteños are the rudest people he has ever met.  I laugh.  I remember how I felt the first time I came here.  I felt the same way.  I had been working in Mexico 5 years.  Different cultures.  It is not that Porteños are rude, it is the aggressiveness of their accent and style of speaking.  Mexicans are very gentle.  I ask him how he likes the food.  He sighs "It is like water."  I laugh again.  He would die if he knew I had masa in my apartment along with many salsas.  (Gotta love my California friends.) "Gracias chula."  he says to me when the tanda ends.  Wow, how long has it been since someone called me that?

I go back to the table.  My friend Alberto is at the table with Denise.  "Ella es muy atrevida." he says to me. "Porque?"  I ask him.  He proceeds to tell me how she told him she was a tango virgin when he took her to dance.  I laugh.  I explain atrevida to Denise and then tell her to be a little careful.  It is funny how something can be funny in one culture, offensive in another, and boring in another. Alberto though thinks Denise is charming and takes her to dance again.

I sit and watch. Miriam comes over to say hello.  We talk a little.  I tell her how much Denise enjoyed her class.  I watch Denise dance.  When Denise comes back to the table she is radiant.  She loves this milonga.  She has been dancing most of the afternoon.  Her first tangos in Buenos AIres.  For me it was in Club Gricel.  Funny, how you never forget those first tangos in Buenos Aires

Tal Cual Amor...

Roberto tells me to meet him at Ideal. (Dream Feet) We have been seeing a lot of each other lately.  I have been translating his private lessons for foreign students.  Besides being a stellar dancer and a great teacher, he is a really nice man.  Not something usual in tango dancers.  He constantly reminds me "I am not a guy from the milonga, I am a professional dancer."  That he is. Trained in the Teatro Colon, he has danced in almost every major show.  And he constantly teases me about being a milonguera.  That I am.  I always tell him I prefer to feel when I dance, not think.

I remember the first time I saw him.  It was maybe 3 years ago at El Beso.  When he danced I don't think his feet touched the floor.  I will never forget him.  He wore a gray blazer, an open collar white shirt, and those feet.  I will never forget those feet - pies de sueno.  I asked the woman with me if she knew who he was.  She only knew that he was a professional dancer.  I tried to get him to invite me to dance, but he did not even give me one look.

I saw him around but not much.  Niño Bien, El Beso, Gricel.  Mostly he was with students. And always with those feet. And he never looked at me.  After the accident, I suppose I would not look at me either.  I lost my dance.  So I didn't even try to have him invite me.  At El Beso I once asked Comehombre if she knew him.  She knew he was a professional dancer. She knew who he was.  But on a 10 rung ladder he being at the top and she being 8 rungs down, he would never look at her.  Besides she was too busy as un "gato negro" rather than teaching or dancing well.  She was way out of his class.

It wasn't until this April that we actually finally met and I pretty much challenged him to dance with me. (Chronicled in this blog post )When we did, it was sort of a disaster.  We talked, he told me about himself and then we went to dance. He is a show dancer.  I found it very difficult to dance with him. Basically he told me two things: If I wanted to dance with him I needed to learn how and two I needed to lose weight.  Thank you very much good bye.  I am a milonguera.  Ciao.

Then a few months later he called me to ask me what I was doing. Frosty the snowman could not have been colder.  But he asked me to come meet him at Ideal again, so for some stupid reason I did.  He was nicer this time.  Maybe because I had lost 5 kilos.  More talking.  I told him I cannot dance professionally anymore.  That I was in a bad car accident and to be honest I am in pain almost every day of my life.

When I told him with who and how he was very sad. Because he knows him, and how he operates, and he could not imagine abandoning a woman, just because she cannot dance anymore.  Then he told me about his wife.  How she died 5 years ago of ovarian cancer.  How he lost not only his wife, but his partner, his best friend.  "You have to get better"  he said to me.  "I will help you."  That started our friendship.

Last night in Ideal was interesting.  Usually Ideal is tourist central.  50 teachers and a million tourists.  The teachers fishing for students.  The tourists looking for tango.  The ones who do come to dance here are not so great, but the tourist have no idea.  Ideal is in the guidebook so off they go.  We go because we get in free.  There is usually an orchestra.

I get there earlier than Roberto.  I text him where I am sitting.  Several men ask me to dance, I turn them down.  My spine is killing me.  If Roberto knew he would kill me for even coming out. Dr. Back #2 (I have a list of doctors I am checking out) gave me an injection.  It has cut some of the pain but not all.  Sometimes dancing helps me a little.

Then things get interesting.  I notice the organizers from the Gay milonga are here.  Soon there are same sex couples on the floor. There is a couple seated in front of me.  The man comes to my table. He asks me if I come here often.  I tell him often enough.  He tells me he and his wife are visiting from San Juan.  They are horrified to see same sex couples dancing here.  He wants to know what is going on.  I am not sure how to explain it because I actually don't know either.  Maybe Ideal is going to be another Milonga Gay?

I look up and see Roberto coming towards me.  He looks so handsome.  He is wearing a dark suit and white shirt.  I am used to him in jeans and a tshirt lately.  He bends down to kiss me.  I tell him how handsome he looks, boludo..he agrees - "Si, yo soy hermoso."  I hit him "Y yo?"  He kisses me again so everyone can see I am sure, "La mas hermosa de todas" he says.  I make a face at him.

He sits down and looks around and laughs.  "Che, what's going on here?  La milonga gay?  I tell him I am not sure but it looks like it.  It doesn't bother him at all.  He starts to do a head count of who he thinks is Gay or Lesbian and what they look like.  Amazing - the Mr. Blackwell of the milonga.

Then I look over and see Christy Cote and Chelsey Eng from San Francisco.  I realize that their all girl dance group is probably going to perform here and that is why all the gays are here.  The were at the Gay milonga last night.  I run over to greet them.  At first no one recognizes me.  I know.  My hair is about 6 shades lighter and it is longer, I am much thinner, and I have not seen them for almost 3 years.  I am happy to see my old friends.  I welcome them to Buenos Aires.

I go to dance with Roberto.  It is a tanda of vals.  I am turning on one leg.  He is so happy.  I don't think either of us ever thought I could do this.  "Estoy girando en una pierna." I say to him.  He kisses me in return.  In the 3rd song my old friend pain shoots up my spin.  I continue to dance.  He sees my face and takes the last song much easier with me.  At the end of the tanda he kisses me again and a table of tourists claps for us.  We laugh and walk off the floor.

We got back to the table.  "Duele?" he asks me.  I don't say anything.  "I see it in your face, so don't lie."  He places his hand where he knows I have pain and massages me and kisses me again.  Christy comes over to the table.  I introduce her to Roberto.  He gets up offers her his chair and goes out to smoke.

I tell her he has promised to quit smoking for me.  I am not going to hold my breath.  She asks me if he is the great love of my life.  I tell her I don't know.  I only know that he treats me really well.  That he has been really kind to me.  She didn't know about the car accident.  I told her about it and how it has been a difficult 2.5 years for me to recover.  I tell her how Roberto has faith that I am going to somehow recover miraculously enough to dance with him. 

We talk about tango in San Francisco and our friends in common.  I tell her I don't know when I will be back.  Roberto wants to visit.  Maybe we will come next year.  Most likely in June.  He can teach and I can translate.  The students we have had from the Bay Area are dying for us to come.  We will see.  I tell her I am not sure.  I am wary after seeing some of the people who have been coming to the Bay Area to teach.  People who have been dancing here for less than 3 years.  People who don't even teach here. I tell here I admire her for her stamina.

Roberto comes back to the table and Christy goes to prepare for her exhibition with her troupe.  Roberto asks how it was for me to talk with old friends.  "I miss my friends from San Francisco."  I tell him.  "I had a good life there."  And then as an Argentine man will always ask "What did she say about me?"  I tell him "She wanted to know if you are the great love of my life." "And?" he says to me searching my face "I told her maybe." He makes a face at me and wraps me in his embrace..."tal cual..amor."

 

Democrats Abroad Mimic the McCain Campaign - UPDATE

Mcain and Palin didn't win, and in a sense, neither did Democrats Abroad.  The children, and they are children for the immature manner in which they behaved, in the end realized they did not want to have this meeting to execute Yanqui Mike.

I guess in the end they realized that it was not going to be a like a cooperate board meeting where the meeting is called to order and in a cold orderly fashion they were going to be able to vent their emotional and maybe factual versions of why Mike should be booted out 2 months before the annual board elections.

I am not sure what they were thinking.  I guess they saw this as an orderly event of a group of their friends getting together in their Recoleta living room to hang Yanqui Mike.  They were keeping their reasons a big huge secret except for the character assassinations they kept spamming the Democrat Abroad email list.

In the end they misjudged the support that Mike had from friends and fellow bloggers and they wanted to cancel the meeting. From what I understand they tried several times.  National would not let them.  Once they set the ball in motion they could not stop it.  This wasn't high school where your mommy could call the principal and stop the meany man from spitting at you.  This was real life.

You see, most of live us here for the long haul.  We are not here on and off, or for an adventure, or for a couple of years to see what it is like.  We live here permanently.  We don't see Democrats Abroad Argentina as a resume item.  Mike is part of our immigrant community.  Yes he is abrasive, but we saw him building something for the future, not for his resume.  Maybe this is the difference between an ex-pat and an immigrant.

In the end, the only way national would cancel the meeting is if the whole executive committee would resign.  What a circus.  Mike did not want to do it.  He had no choice.  It was either that or decertify the Democrats Abroad Argentina Chapter. Mike worked way too hard to have the chapter decertified.

So like the biggest bunch of fools this group of DEMOCRATS acted like bigger idiots than the McCain Palin campaign and outsmarted themselves. (The idiots do not include Yanqui Mike who while at times is an idiot, he was not this time.) They were just sooo smart in trying to create this coup to overthrow Mike that they all had to resign.  And these guys want to lead Democrats Abroad?

Talk about exercises in futility.  So now there is no executive board for Democrats Abroad Argentina. The elections are in two months where a whole new executive board will be elected just like it would have been before all this ex-pat nonsense was started.  I nominate Yanqui Mike for President of Democrats Abroad Argentina.....