Out of the Mouth of Babes

On Monday I take my guests to Club Gricel.  It is the second milonga we have gone to.  This is a traditional milonga I tell them.  It has been awhile since I have been to Gricel on Monday.  My trip to the US and the cold and my wanting to rest.  I am eager to see my friends.

I am pleasantly surprised to see it full at 10:00 pm at night.  This has not been the case at most of the milongas.  Maybe this is a sign that things are picking up.  I give big hugs to Patricio, Adriana, and Lola.  "You did not tell us to reserve your table." Patricio says to me.  I tell them we are here for my friend Ruty's birthday.  I take my guests towards the back.

We share our table with Pia and Ana.  I introduce Martin and Beatrice to them. I look around.   There are not too many of my old friends here.  I explain to Beatrice and Martin I want to go say hello to people.  It is a short trip.  Normally this could take me as long as an hour.  Tonight it is 10 minutes.  I wait for Ruty to come back to the table to congratulate her.  She is radiant.

Martin and Beatrice are dancing.  I am happy to see them on the dance floor.  They are doing well in their lessons and practicing all the time.  I tell them they will be the best dancers in Austria by the time they go back.  Of course they do not believe me.

I go to dance with a friend.  As soon as we go out on the floor a woman kicks me.  She doesn't just kick me, she kicks hard.  I turn around. She is a foreigner.  I scowl at her.  She doesn't understand. My friend tells me it has been brutal tonight.  I should wear armor.  He wasn't kidding.  He spent the entire tanda trying to protect me from flying feet.  How can you enjoy dancing when you don't know where that next foot is going to come from?

Martin being the only man at the table is in demand whether he likes it or not.  At first he is timid, but then he rather likes being asked to dance by my friends.  Both Ana and Pia are good dancers, so this is nice for him.  Beatrice too, is being asked to dance by the men.  I am glad they are having a good time.

I go to dance with an Italian man who is always nicely dressed in a suit.  No sooner do we get out on the dance floor does this woman who comes to Buenos Aires twice a year kick me with her boleo. She resembles a pear on toothpicks with her too high stiletto heels and her over round body.  You would think for someone who has been here as many times as she has she would know by now you cannot do a remake of "Forever Tango" on the dance floor of Gricel on Monday nights. She kicks me again. I grit my teeth.

My Italian partner tries to shield me from her and her partner.  Why doesn't he just move?  When she kicks me the fourth time, I have had it.  I do the unthinkable. I kick her back, but in a very ladylike way. She is shocked.  It is close to the end of the tanda and I suppose I ruined her encore.  I look at her shocked face. "You kicked me 4 times," I tell her in English," and you kicked me hard." She says nothing and looks away.  I am sure my partner thinks I am deranged. I don't care.  I am sick of how these women are dancing.  It is like a war zone out here.

When I get back to the table Beatrice has her own war stories to tell.  She too has been kicked.  Martin has decided to sit things out until it maybe calms down. I go marching over to Adriana.  "Please," I tell her, "Make an announcement. It is impossible to dance out there.  The foreign women are kicking up a storm."  She promises to do so.  When she does it is in Spanish and many of the Argentines clap.  I wonder if this will help.

My friend Gustavo comes.  I am happy to see him.  "We have a sister."  I tell him.  I introduce Beatrice, then Martin.  I explain how Gustavo is my brother.  Gustavo takes me to dance. He is experienced on the dance floor and even he is surprised at how bad it is.  I tell him how I kicked the "pear on toothpicks." It really was out of character for me.

After Gustavo takes Beatrice to dance, she goes off to dance with another. Gustavo and I are sitting at the table.  I have put up with so much this night. I look out over the crowd.  I am amazed at how badly dressed people are.  Not just some of the foreigners, but the Argentines as well.  What happened to the elegance of tango?  There are a few men in suits.  Men who always have come in suits, or sport coats. The women are usually better dressed than the men. However, they are pushed to the background by men in jeans, men in tshirts, women in capri pants with their stomachs hanging over them, women in jeans, women wearing mini-dresses who shouldn't.  It is sad.  I feel very sad.

I turn to Gustavo.  "I miss the cigarette smoke."  I say to him.  He looks at me like I am crazy. "What? You liked coming home smelling like smoke?"  I think about it.  "I guess I miss how the milongas were.  They have changed so much." He agrees.  It isn't like it is anyone's fault, it just happened.  The milongas will never be the same.  For this I am sad.

At that point Beatrice comes back to the table, sits down and announces "Now I know why you don't like tourists!"  The defiant look on her face has us all laughing. 

Comments

[Andi]

Hahaha, I love that you finally kicked her. I was waiting and waiting and waiting for you to do it!

[Julio]

Hasta donde yo se, no se revolea la pata cuando se baila tango. Eso es tango for export(como Forever Tango o Madero tango).
No me la veo a las milongueras del 30 o del 40 haciendo eso...