Tango

Another trip. Buenos Aires, Argentina. Trips are more engaging for me when I have a mission. Alex and I picked a fairly logical one in Argentina: learn to tango. Found ourselves a teacher and have had a private lesson every day.

Here's the dirt on tango. It's all about balance and posture. This is how you tell your partner what you are about to do. It's a very gendered dance, in that the man is completely the lead and largely determines what's going to happen. The two of you stand and embrace and are touching at both hands, the chest and shoulder area, and sometimes the cheekbone. Those points of contact are where all of the communication happens. That is how tango dancers seem to be in such unbelievable synchronicity, to the point of appearing rehearsed, even though tango is always improvised. The man shifts the woman's weight to one foot or the other, leaving one foot free to move, and thus indicates which foot the two of them will move next. There are all kinds of variations, but the basic principle is that both of you can only move your free, unweighted foot, and so you do, and by pushing with your chest and your two hands, you indicate which direction you want her to go. Not that it's easy for the woman, but it's harder for the man. One added level of complication is that you have a very limited field of view. Your face is right next to your partners', and you're looking straight ahead, so you can only see one wedge of crowded dancefloor off to your left, and you can't bump into people. They don't appreciate that. In our final lesson today, what Andres was teaching us is some techniques to navigate a crowded dancefloor gracefully. Andres was amazing. He was such a firm, precise lead, Alex never had any doubt as to what she was supposed to do and thus looked great.

But it's lots of fun. It's unlike any other kind of dancing I've ever done. The milongas (tango dance halls) seem like some weird throwback to another time.
The formalism, the elegance, the old men, the belle-epoque decor, and of course the music, which conjures images of an alcoholic grinder-monkey performing laments in front of a greek chorus in facepaint. To me. Somewhat. It's nice.

I can't imagine how people eat this much excellent beef on a regular basis. I don't need to eat steak for a long while I think.

We're going to continue back in new york. We'll strut our stuff at the wedding. You'll see. Having just studied tango for six days, our learning curve has been pretty steep, but we're going to need to keep working on it in new york.

Tango shoes: aren't they fantastic? Those are the pair that I bought for Alex, modeled by the same. What's odd about women's tango shoes is they look like the most impractical taxi shoes imaginable, but they're actually designed with athletic performance in mind. Heels built to take some heavy use, with arch support.

This is a couple doing a solo at a milonga we went to.