10 pesos menos

It is Saturday.  A friend is leaving to go back to Europe.  She has been here 9 months.  She plans to come back in 3 or 4 months to live here.  Today is her despedida. I have no idea who is invited.  I am bringing masas from Las Violetas.

At 11:00 pm I leave to go to her house.  She doesn't live far from me.  I decide to treat myself to a taxi rather than take the bus.  This is a luxury.  Money is tight.  Prices keep going up.  I rationalize the taxi to myself.  It is the only money I have actually spent today other than the subte or buses.  It is only 10 pesos.  I should take the bus because I know I will want to take a taxi home, and then that will be 20 pesos.  Counting centavos.  Milonga?  Taxi?  Comida?

I enter my friend's apartment.  It is beautiful.  She tells me that when she comes back she doesn't want to live here.  "It is too dark, there are no windows."  This is the problem with a ground floor apartment.  You might get a courtyard but no windows.  "I want to buy something." she tells me.  I advise her to wait.  Prices are still artificially high here.  Americans and Europeans do not understand Latin American real estate markets.  One day your property is worth $250,000 and the next it can be worth $50,00.  Rampant inflation has always been a part of life here.

When I enter the living room I see many familiar faces.  I am surprised.  I had no idea she knew some of my long time Argentine friends. I go around the room and say hello.  I introduce myself to the few French people I do not know.  I am thrilled to see Carlos and Lilia.  The last time we met I forgot to give them my phone number.  Lillia is wearing an orthopedic boot on her foot. "Nena, que paso?  I ask her.  She tells me she fell and fractured a bone. "Pobrecita." I say to her as I hug her.

I see my friend Jorge.  I have not seen him for ages. I met him I think in 2002 in one of the milongas. We see each other from time to time.  ¿Como estas? he asks me.  He motions for me to sit next to him.  ¡Que cambiaste! he says to me.  I laugh and ask him how he means this.  He looks me up and down.  "My hair is longer." I say to him. "Pareces muy Argentina." he says.  "Ques estas hiciendo?" he asks me.

"I got my residency."  I tell him. "Mira vos!" he says to me. "You were lucky.  Everyone I know has had a problem.  I tell him the story of my trip to Migraciones.  He is shocked when he hears about the accident.  I don't really want to talk much about that.  I am done with it.

"Are you still dancing?" he asks me.  "Of course.  But only in the milongas.  Sometimes I dance in small cena/shows, or at a party.  Pretty much I have stopped the other stuff.  I don't like the life.  I can't support it.  I have adapted to this culture, but some things I will never adapt to."  I don't have to explain this to him.  He has his years in the milongas.  He knows what I am talking about.  He goes to the tourist milongas.  It is why I never see him anymore. 

"You know," he says, gesturing towards the Euopeans who are here, "they come here thinking they have found something incredible. They want to live here.  I always ask them why.  The answer is always the same.  They tell me how different Argentina is, how friendly the people are. How everyone kisses and hugs.  They always tell me how "cerrada" the people of their country are.  It doesn't matter what country, it is always the same."  he  says.  "The one day "sufren un golpe de la cabeza fuerte" and that is the end of the milonga, tango, and Buenos Aires for them.  They learn what it is really like."

"I always tell people who want to live here they need more than tango, but they think the idea of spending every day in the milonga dancing is a day in heaven. They have this idea of what tango is and isn't, and unfortunately it is not always the reality of what it is.  The people who live in the milongas are either retired people or those who make their living off of people in the milongas.  People who work cannot afford the time to live in the milongas, no matter how much they love to dance."  He nods his head. "You learned."  "I knew this before I came here. I have always been a person who has done multiple things. My golpe came with the accident. It reinforced what I already knew." I tell him.

Our attention turns to the conversation of the party.  One woman an Argentine is talking about tango.  "I don't understand how the foreigners learn." she says.  She is talking about steps.  "They think they know all about our dance and they know nothing." I interrupt, "It isn't so much that," I tell her.  "At least in the U.S. You need to understand American culture." She starts to argue with me when someone tells her that I am American and she should listen. "In the U.S. people dance for different reasons. In tango it is rarely for the music. Maybe they saw Scent of a Woman, or Forever Tango. They want to be able to dance like that.  To show their friends.  Here, people dance tango because they love the music."

The Argentines nod their heads in agreement.  The woman says "I am Argentine, I love the tango music and I express my love of the music when I dance.  I don't understand this need of having to have all these lessons and steps."  "Because," I tell her, "You are Argentine, and they are not. In my culture we always want to be the best. It doesn't matter what it is. We strive to be number one and that includes things we are suppose to do for pleasure, like dancing tango."

Do I tell them about the American woman who stayed with me who told me she loves dancing tango but she hates tango music?  Or the young man who told one of my partners in a lesson that he didn't care if he didn't know how to lead, he needed to know more steps because that was what got the girls?  Or the dozens of students I have had that cannot turn properly and when taught say condescendingly when they cannot do it on the first try "No one ever taught me to turn that way." (Meaning their teachers) Or the American woman who could not follow and informed me that tango is too sexist for her and she is not used to having to follow a man.

I have hundreds of conversations with foreigners about tango and none of them are about the music. It is always about lessons. Lessons. And more lessons.  Somewhere someone has convinced these people that if they take and pay lots of money for lessons, they will be incredible dancers.  Return on Investment.  There is an almost religious fervor, a frantic need.  To be the best. The music?  What about it....oh yeah, the music.  What music makes me look the best when I dance.

You never find an Argentine who hates tango music in the milongas. My Argentine friends who don't dance tango either think I am crazy because they hate the music (it's too sad, it's something my grandparents did)or they just don't don't see the point.  Foreigners are always shocked when I tell them most Argentines do not like tango.

I am talking to my friend.  "I know people who have come here for years.  They pay all this money for lessons and they never improve.  They talk about their teachers like they are Gods with coveted information instead of 8th grade drop-outs who have good street sense. I am constantly amazed at how they believe when these guys continue to lead them on and they keep buying it.  There is a reason why many of them cannot get passports."

My friend laughs.  "Tango is big business.  You know that."  " I can't stand to listen to it.  It drives me crazy."  I tell him.  I go back to listening to the group conversation. It seems universal among the Argentines, they learned to dance because they liked the music.  They took lessons to a point and then just went to practicas and milongas.

Again I interrupt, "You have to understand, in some places in the US they might only have 1 class once a week and a milonga twice a month.  So it is different.  They learn with videos or travel to congresos. They are more limited.  They think show tango is tango." 

My friend says to me "The issue is tango is growing in the world and the other cultures are changing it to suit what they think it is. But it is not our tango and that is what upsets us."  I agree with him.  "They lose the perspective that it is the music, not the dance.  The music drives the dance."

After dinner there is dancing.  I watch.  No one invites me.  I don't really mind.  I would rather watch. I know how most of these people dance.  If invited I would of course dance out of friendship.  I watch the Argentine woman dance who was very vocal.  She flexes her feet so much I want to break them off.  For one who was very negative about foreigners she has tried to copy Geraldine exactly. Whatever.

I have to be careful who I dance with.  My back is doing well, but dancing with too many men who cannot is not good for me.  I dance one tanda with a friend.  He is a big bear of a guy.  I adore him. He is pushing and pulling me through the dance.  I am afraid I am going to go through a wall.  I give him a big hug when the tanda is over. "Un placer." he says to me. "Siempre." 

During dessert I go to sit with a friend who has a milonga.  We watch two women dance together. I comment to him "I cannot dance with a woman." He smiles at me.  "For me the tango is an embrace. It is a dance between a man and a woman." "I agree" he says, "although I have learned to accept this and not criticize."

"You know,"  I tell him, "You almost never see Argentine women dancing the lead. Yet American and European women have this great need to learn how to lead."  He thinks a minute. "Well they say it is because they don't have enough men in their communities."  I laugh and I look at him. "Look at our milongas, sometimes it is like 80 women to 10 men."  He nods his head. "The milongas are always more women than men. Yet you don't see Argentine women running to learn how to lead. We wait.  We talk to our friends. We have something to drink.  If there is no one to dance with, we leave.  Can you imagine an Argentine woman getting dressed up to go to a milonga to dance with a woman?"  He laughs at this. "No, I cannot."

"I think it is because we are so used to getting things the way we want it as American women, that if we can't find a man to dance with, then we will dance with other women. Europeans are probably the same.  I have never wanted to dance tango with a woman."  He allows the women to dance together in his milonga, but the other Argentines frown on it.  I told him this.  He says he knows it. They have told him.  He doesn't have to stop them.  Once the women see the looks they get, they stop voluntarily.

"You are lucky." he says to me, "You always dance. It is not always that way for every woman." "It is not always that way for me either."  I tell him.  "Look at tonight, no one wants to dance with me. It happens in the milongas too. It is OK.  I have learned to enjoy the music, my friends. It is not that important to me to dance."

He smiles at me.  "I remember when it was." I wave my hand at him, like an Argentine "Para" (stop) I say to him.  I am tired.  I tell him I am going to go. He tells me he and his lady are leaving too. "Where do you live?"  They ask me.  I tell them. "How are you getting home?"  I tell them by taxi most likely. "No, no," they tell me. "We will take you."  Que suerte...an interesting evening and 10 pesos menos.

Comments

[Sorin]

Sure Deby, all americans and europeans suck and all argentines rock. I find it interesting that non-argentines living in BsAs are the most closed minded in regards to what tango is, the the ones convinced that aside from themselves and the portenos, no one could possible dance the "authentic" tango. Out of all the people I danced with since I came in BsAs, probably 75% portenas, the only two people who felt the need to state that they dance the "real" tango were foreigners living in BsAs. They were not exactly among the best dancers I've dance with.

[Andi]

I seriously didn't want this post to end...awesome writing and great ending for the story and for you! ;-)

[sid]

hola cousin deby
you are one funny cuz and a great writer probably because you see things clearly and then find it easy to capture in word.

[Connie]

Hi Deby,

I just wanted to comment that your posts sometimes seem very black and white. For myself and quite a few in my tango community in the US the tango music is what drives us to the dance. Absolutely there are many in my community who are as you describe, but not all Americans dance for show. When I'm in Buenos Aires I always get comments from Portenos about being able to feel their tango and dancing like an Argentine. Granted, we're in the minority but we do exist.

[Sharon]

Hola Deby...

what an amazing observation... and amazing to me becuase just yesterday I had a long conversation with a friend who also made the same observations about the music and our cultural differences.

This insight about the music seemed new to me when we talked, but I realized that its not the first time I've heard it... its just that before I simply didn't understand.

Hope all is will with you and that Maxi is being a good girl in doggy school.

Sharon