Signs you have been Spending Too Much Time in Buenos Aires

In the present moment, May 2009

A couple of months ago I was talking with a girlfriend, another foreigner who moved to Argentina for tango. While chatting in Spanish, I suddenly realise I don’t know what is the castellano word for “honest”. I realise I hardly had the need to use the word in the 2 years I have been here! Then the revelation come to me with a slight sense of shock - to describe someone as “honest” here seem to carry a slight derisive ring, almost akin to saying the person is Not the sharpest crayon in the box. You know...a fool.

What is happening to my value system??

Perhaps I have been staying too long in Buenos Aires...

So I have put together below a compilation based on my own experience. For those of you tango long-stayers in town, any of the following sounds familiar? ^_^


Signs You Have Been Spending Too Much Time in Buenos Aires

Lifestyle, habits and local customs
~ There is a queue in front of you. The customer being served at the cashier/ticket booth starts to chat leisurely with the cashier for a couple of minutes. You mentally resign yourself to the wait without fretting incessantly or calling the person impolite names in your head.

~ You develop an ability to 1) scrutinise the pavement for uneven or missing tiles, wet patches on the ground, dripping water from air-conditioners overhead in summertime and of course the ubiquitous dog poo, 2) scan shop windows for interesting items, 3) keep aware of the mood of your general surroundings for safety reasons as well as demonstrations in the distance which will necessitate a rapid route change, 4) avoid collisions with pedestrians, since there are always a few in a mad rush... doing so all at the same time while walking down the street at top speed yourself.

~ When walking 4 blocks becomes a piece of cake. Walking 8 blocks is no big deal either. When you first arrived in town you looked for a bus to bring you 4 blocks. I am from a tiny tropical country where its hot and humid, nobody walks.

~ You start to hoard coins. You learn to lie saying “No, I don’t have 50 cents” smoothly, without a guilty conscience. Why? Because NO HAY MONEDAS (There Is No Change), a sign frequently displayed at shops’ cashiers. Due to a black market cartel on coinage, nobody wants to give each other small change in coins.

~ Mentiroso, Mentiroso (Liar, Liar). You are no longer THAT indignant by being lied to, in particular by public service personnel such as the call centre of Telefonica and certain employees of the Consulate of Uruguay. Those said-employees please feel free to contact me.

~ By default you take nothing for granted – you will believe it when you see it happen with your own eyes.

~ You are rather suspicious of any Argentine member of the opposite gender who tries to start a conversation with you, regardless if they are 17 or 70.

~ You can’t see a guy and a girl together without automatically assuming that they are a couple, especially if they are Argentine. Double ditto in a milonga.

~ From time to time, the guy in front of you gets up the bus instead of letting you board first, or takes that seat you were secretly eyeing. You feel somewhat miffed by what you now consider a breech of good manners. In the immortal words of my Italian girlfriend, “Hey, but he is a MAN”. Implying that a real MAN would lay down his life for a lady, what’s a seat or so.

~ Instead of maintaining a discreet and polite blank stare on the train/bus/street, you ignore the dictates of good manners and take a good looooonng look at anything or anyone that catches your interest without embarrassment. The adage “Mind Your Own Business” is on very rocky local grounds, so as to speak.

~ With some contextual help, after 10 minutes of careful listening you actually have some understanding of the Brazilians when they talk. When they are speaking Portuguese. Which is a different language from Spanish.

~ Your overseas tango friends are visiting Buenos Aires again. You are meeting them for a meal and you are running late. Your mobile rings. You know it is them calling you because you still have their mobile numbers stored on your mobile from their previous visit.

~ You have the numbers of various milonga organisers and milonga venues stored in your mobile phone. But you can’t find the mobile number of your real estate guy when the toilet plumbing runs into trouble.


In the Milongas
~ An undesirable guy comes over to your table trying to chat you up in a milonga. You keep him talking on his feet for >20 mins by NOT saying the words “please take a seat”, in hopes that he would go away. And you feel offended when he finally invites himself to sit down without your invitation to do so.

~ In a traditional milonga, you feel it is rude for a woman to reject a guy even though he was uncouth enough to approach and issue a verbal invitation.

~ To avoid giving the impression that you are both leaving the milonga at the same time, you tell your friend, an Argentine guy who is a familiar face on the tango scene, that you will leave first and to come meet you outside in 5 minutes.

~ You didn’t change shoes at the milonga because you are just there to enjoy your friends’ company/you don’t feel like dancing/your feet hurts. You automatically expect that guys should have observed that you are not in your dancing shoes.

~ You went to a practica with an overseas guy friend. You are chatting with each other. You feel insulted on the behalf of your guy friend's male honour when an Argentine guy approaches you to ask you to dance without acknowledging your friend.


Fashion
~ You finally bought yourself a pair of jeans in the “chupin” style. You have always been a devotee of the straight-leg look, and had long ago swear to run a mile from the former style in question. Chupin style – tight fitting, almost sprayed-on look for jeans & pants adopted as the fashionable norm for women.

~ While going shopping, grannies in their advanced 70s next to you ruffle through clothes in colours (bubble-gum pink) and styles more befitting teenagers from the rack that you just skipped over. Your boyfriend’s 60+ year old mother is more fashionably dressed and better maintained than you.

~ 80s music comes on over the radio or telly and you start to enjoy it. Ehmm..that period wasn’t really that bad, was it?

~ You start to think that the mullet hair style actually doesn’t look half-bad for Argentine guys. In general guys would risk looking like a joke spotting a mullet cut...but somehow the look does sorta suits some Argentine ones.

~ You are up-to-date on the current month prices of the various tango shoemakers in town, but you have no idea how your financial investments are doing.


Politics
~ It is that tax time of the year again. An ad from the Argentine government comes on the telly extolling the establishment of the Ministry of Science & Technology - allegedly made possible because the citizens pay their taxes. The tagline goes “Help Your Country Help You” - and you roll your eyes in rabid disbelief. I was a government servant for 8 years in the biomedical sector, and I did believe I have a responsibility to tax payer's money.

~ The government of Buenos Aires embarks on road works and other infrastructural improvements. Instead of thinking “Good job, the government is trying to stimulate the local economy by injecting money into the system to create a multiplier effect”, you think to yourself “So which snout is getting fat at the trough now?”. Line item in budget balance sheet = 20,000 pesos for a signboard, 50,000 pesos for 5 metres of pavement etc.


Food
~ You stocked up >10 different types of chillies/chilli sauces/spicy pastes in your fridge. You are inordinately amused at the locals’ inability to eat anything remotely approaching picante (spicy). You add repeated hyperboles when ordering local version of "spicy" food. This only applies to people from food cultures who like to eat fire ^_^

~ You consider it acceptable that pizzas and empanadas constitute food items to be consumed on a daily basis.

~ You no longer feel guilty about not eating your veggies. For (a) month(s) at a time.


When you return to your home country for visits
~ On the 29-hour plane ride home & for the first week after leaving Buenos Aires, you create confusion by saying “Gracias” instead of “Thank you”. You keep wanting to sprout Spanish in response when people talk to you. In fact, often a Spanish word feels the most appropriate when you want to describe something. No words in your other 2 languages feels exactly right. And that’s quite a lot of words.

~ When you are back home for a visit, you automatically lean in for mutual pecks on the cheek when you see your friends. You are slightly taken aback and feel strangely hurt when they don’t kiss you in greeting.

~ And you just can't wait to return to BA...

Falleció Cacho Masci - another milonguero passed 5 April 09

In the present moment, April 2009

Earlier on, I was told the cryptic prediction by my girlfriend Maria, that March 2009 will be a difficult month.

"Pesado" she had said...

And it was.

A friend that I have known since I arrived in Buenos Aires 2007 was confirmed with lung cancer. Back in those early days when I hardly spoke a word of Spanish, she was a comforting presence. She is a non-smoker. In February, I had noticed the high cancer antigen marker in her blood test. Between disbelief and trepidation, we visited doctors and labs. Each visit was a further confirmation. A rollercoaster ride of denial, fear, determination, hope, self-doubt, reluctant acceptance, denial.

A draining repeating cycle.

Although I have been involved for years in the biomedical area in my line of work, I never had to accompany a friend through the diagnosis of malignant cancer until now.

I hope that you will make it, my friend!!! You have to...you have to. Life should give you another chance to enjoy what you have. Your true wealth. Because with this trial you have begin to see past the thick curtain of "rolling red dusk" 滾滾紅塵 as we call it.


Back to Buenos Aires tango.

On Sunday, halfway through the evening around 9.30 pm at Lujos at Maipu 444, milonguero Cacho Masci collapsed while dancing. He is the brother of "El Nene" Masci. A crowd of friends and concerned regulars of Lujos rushed to his aid. There were mutterings of his heart condition. Then the ambulance came to ferry him away. After that, nobody had the heart to continue dancing any further. Most people left Maipu 444 in sober spirits. My friends Louis & Janet who are visiting Buenos Aires were in the milonga..

The next night at Gricel, we heard the announcement he had passed away. It is sad to know there will be one less familiar face at my Sunday night milonga.


One hears about milongueros having a happy last dance and passing away. I know it is not a sad manner of passing for someone who spent a lifetime dancing. It is perhaps one of the best way of going for someone who lives for the milonga, to leave happily dancing and surrounded by friends. Furthermore it is a fast way to go, not drawn out and painful like how some milongueros have suffered in their last years. I should be happy for him.

As yet, I can't shake the heavy feeling in my heart.

MENTIME Que me Gusta

In the present moment, Nov 2007

Milongas in Buenos Aires are social occasions and more, they are opportunities for bouts of lighthearted flirtation or potential romances. Ladies who have danced in BA would have discovered, Argentino men will shower any fairly decent-looking gal (regardless of age and race) with a flurry of compliments. The Italian blood runs deep ☺

I had a few, usually from portenos old enough to be my father. There are a couple that I remember which went more or less like this:

Case 1
"Your eyes are so pretty. I want to take a photo of them and keep it in the shirt pocket, next to my heart."

My private reaction
awww…how rather sweet. Especially said by an above middle-age porteno who dance the most divine valses.

Btw, I would have dissolved into laughter if the same lines came from a younger guy, Argentine or not.

Case 2
"How well we dance together. I want to enter the Campeonato Mundial with you!"

My private reaction
a fit of hilarity when I finally understood...

Actually for Case 2, I didn’t understand exactly what he said at first - I thought he asked if I came to BA for the Campeonato Mundial de baile de Tango (World Tango Championship) held in August yearly. I kept replying in broken Castellano "No, no, I didn't come to BA for the championships". My porteno partner (another above middle-age gentleman) finally had to ask my girlfriend to translate for him and by then, he was rather exasperated at the “waste” of his fulsome compliment :D

Now, there is an amusing column featured monthly in the tango magazine B.A. Tango with the title

MENTIME
Que me Gusta
Frases lindas que dicen los hombres en la milonga.

Which translates more or less into:

LIE TO ME
Because I like it
Pretty lines spoken by the men in the milonga.

This monthly column features the submissions by female readers, who are the likely recipients of these chat-up lines in the milongas. Those published get 2 free milonga entry tickets!

Here are a few inventive or interesting ones:

"(To xxx): The next time my wife asks me for a public retraction of the flattering comments I tell you, I'll get divorced and marry you"
"(A xxx): La proxima vez que mi esposa me pida una retraction publica por los piropos que te digo me divorcio y me caso con vos"

(March/April 2007)

“You are so pretty that when I look at you, I take a wrong step”
“Sos tan linda, que al mirarte me equivoco el paso”
(...hmm.. useful for men with more charm than dancing skills?)

“With your dance and joy you entered my life, and I don’t want to lose you”
“Con tu baile y tu alegria entraste a mi vida y no quiero perderte”

“To dance with you I have to line up, but the wait is worth the prize”
“Para bailar con vos hay que sacar numero, pero la espera vale la pena”

(May 2007)

“I want to dance the last set of the night and take with me the perfume of your skin”
“Quiero bailar con vos la ultima tanda de la noche y llevarme el perfume de tu piel”

(August 2007)

You may think these lines are corny or just right down silly. But judging from the title of the column in B.A. Tango, obviously the delivery is done correctly by the portenos :D


P.S/ My intial interpretation of the title was incorrect, so it has been rectified.

Ah, the music!

I am slightly surprised by my response to the music in the milongas in Buenos Aires.

In Buenos Aires, I experience tango music much more strongly than I ever had before. Here in the milongas, my feelings for tango music are intensified 2-3 times over. Before one jump to the conclusion it is due to the musicality of my porteno partners, let me say that I do experience this musical high when I am simply sitting out a tanda listening to the music.

Is it due to a particular venue then? But I had the same experience at different milonga venues such as at El Beso, Salon Canning and Maipu 444 with different DJs. Of course it goes without saying these milongas have talented DJs who direct the flow & ebb of music with consummate skills.

How does it feel like? In one word, I would describe it as “overwhelming”. Literally it feels like the music is expanding inside of me like a balloon, ready to burst out from the chest. I have the same experience, the same “soaring” emotional reverberation when listening to a great operatic aria.

What surprised me most was that I felt this emotional rush frequently when listening to Jorge Duran, one of the singers of the Di Sarli orquesta. Alberto Podesta remains my favourite Di Sarli singer, for his voice’s sotto voce quality and longing hue. I was never fond of Jorge Duran. His characteristic barrel-like voice I always found too loud and rather lacking in delicacy of emotions. So imagine my surprise when time after time in the milongas here, I would be swept away when a Duran-Di Sarli tanda comes on. I don’t even own a single CD of Duran’s singing. Yet often I can identify Duran-Di Sarli’s songs with certainty. In fact, I would experience the emotional response and then come to the realisation that the singer is Duran.

A quick aside. Among the Podesta-Di Sarli songs, “Otra noche” comes close to the same dramatic intensity. Di Sarli’s “Buenos Aires”, sang by Roberto Florio, is fairly dramatic but I find Florio’s voice in the song too thin and lacks Duran’s booming richness to give the same intensity. The end result just come across as slightly hysteric.

So why do I experience tango music more intensely here?

Does it boil down simply to first-rate DJing in the milongas? Or is it the emotional energy given off by dancers? Perhaps decades of tango music have seeped into the very pores of the walls and in the air that we breathe, in this city where tango music was born. I don’t have an answer. All I know is that there is a special quality in the Buenos Aires milongas that give extra emotional intensity to tango music.

It makes the overall experience for dancing, truly larger than life.

THIS is why we come to Buenos Aires.

El Beso: Part II

The next night, we were back at El Beso again.

At El Beso, the dancing level is generally high. El Beso has a different style of dancing compared to Salon Canning on Monday nights. Proportionally as many, or more great dancers. But in a different style. For want of a better description, more milonguero in nature. High boleos are led rarely. Adornos are done with quiet and sexy elegance, without the overtly “look at me!” flashiness that I personally don’t find too appealing. Explicitness usually don’t hold my attention for very long.

A likely reason for the difference in style is that El Beso is not very big, its dance floor is probably only a fifth the size of Salon Canning. Of course, as with other milonga venues in Buenos Aires, El Beso on different nights have a slightly different flavour and age group depending on the organizer for the night.

El Beso’s layout is squarish, which I find is more conducive for the cabaceo vs. a rectangular room. The lighting level is well adjusted, sufficient for eye contact but yet slightly muted to generate an air of coziness and calm.

Colin (and Loretta) is an El Beso enthusiast, ascribing the place as a temple where devotees can always return to reaffirm one’s faith☺ It is a favourite hangout of many milonguero dancers, ranging from “youngish” to middle age and those in their sixties. Salon-nuevo dancers who frequent the place tend to accommodate their dancing style to El Beso.

I was feeling slightly bolder tonight, having talked myself into a sense of conviction that the cabaceo will become easier night after night. After 2 or 3 decent tandas, I was more relaxed and decided to look with a tentative smile in the direction where the older milonguero dancers sat. One of the balding gentlemen smiled back and raised his glass in a friendly salute. I smiled back, and accepted his cabaceo invitation for a dance. “There, that went quite well” I thought to myself as I got up to dance. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The balding gentleman was not very tall, around my height. To my relief, he spoke some English. In Buenos Aires, people usually chat during the pauses between songs within the tanda. It is part of the socialization ritual and offers an opportunity to get to know one another. My near non-existence Spanish made the break between songs a rather laborious experience, so it was good I could communicate with my current partner.

“ De donde sos? Japon? Corea?” he asked.
“ Ah, I see!” he nodded when I replied. “I know your country.”

I was surprised and rather pleased. Outside of Asia Pacific, most people have no idea the exact location of my small country and usually mistaken it for a city within China or India.

From our conversation over the next couple of songs, I discovered this gentleman not only knew my country is in tropical South East Asia, he also knew that we have a community of tango dancers. This was most unexpected. A niggling thought began to lurk in the deep recesses of my mind but I refused to even entertain it.

At the end of the tanda, I asked my partner the only question that I had not asked so far. You would have thought it would have been my first question.

“My name?” he repeated my question.

“Cacho” he replied with a jovial smile. “My name is Cacho Dante”.

Rendered speechless, my own smile now frozen, I returned to my seat under Cacho’s accompaniment. You could have knocked me over with a feather.

Epilogue

Cacho Dante is a well-known milonguero. About 15 or so years ago, Cacho Dante together with Susana Miller and Anna Maria Schapira began to promote the style of dancing tango the way it was danced socially in the milongas of Buenos. You could say this movement spearheaded the awareness of the milonguero style to communities outside of Argentina.

Cacho Dante’s article “The Tango and Trapeze Acts” was inspirational in the early days of my tango journey. His views, so eloquently expressed, were affirmation of my vision of tango, which remained largely unchanged until the present.

The reasons for my chagrin in the above encounter were 2-fold. Firstly, I was feeling rather self-congratulatory about my success with the cabaceo and how I accepted the dance with what I had thought was nonchalant confidence. Haha. H.a... Secondly, Cacho Dante is no stranger to dancers in my community who gravitate towards the close-embrace /milonguero style. My friends and teachers have taken many lessons from Cacho Dante. Not recognizing him is like an apprentice not recognizing the grandmaster, for the lack of a better comparison.

I confessed that for a couple of weeks afterwards, I studiously combed the pages of tango publications to look at photos of well-known dancers, taking pains to memorise what they look like!


P.S/ If you want to know what Cacho Dante looks like, see Page 14, August 2007 issue of El Tangauta. Full frontal, full colour, BIG photo.

El Beso: Part I

That night, we made our way to El Beso at Riobamba 416.

El Beso’s entrance and stairway is an immediately reminder of its name. Coated not in vermillion or burgundy, but in a shade of true red.

It was a Tuesday night milonga at El Beso, Un Morton de Tango, organized by Osvaldo Natucci and Osvaldo Buglione. The room was not filled to capacity, as June is typically a quieter month off the peak tourist seasons in Buenos Aires. Later I also found out that like myself, the portenos are not fans of the cold (de sangre caliente! one milonguero said to me tongue in cheek) and some responded to the onset of a surprisingly cold winter this early June by staying home.

I was intent on observing the dancers at El Beso, to identify good dancers and also those who would not suit my dancing preferences. In general, I prefer to dance in close embrace. I find it distressing in particular if the leader choose to open up the frame in mid-dance to do open figures, so I am always keen to avoid such experiences.

Loretta, Colin and I chatted to catch up while we watched the dancing. We had a good vintage point with front row seats. Regardlessly, I kept losing track of milongueros who I particularly enjoyed watching once the tanda finished and the crowd return to their seats en masse. My eyes furtively scoured the room, skittishly shunning any accidental eye contacts. Oh dear, what did he looked like? Was it him? Or him? Or..was it him?

After a while, I received verbal invitations from a couple of the younger men in the room. Again like my opening dance at Salon Canning, the first question that I was asked both times – do you not dance? The first invitation I declined with apologies, and felt embarrassed immediately. Because El Beso is a relatively small setting, unlike Salon Canning, it is very obvious for the leader when he has been turned away. Even though it was the men's choice to risk a verbal invitation, my rejection will result in a public loss of face for the man, and it didn’t feel good to do so. The cabaceo originated in the milongas of Buenos Aires for a good reason. The code of inviting and accepting dances via cabaceo serves a very necessary function while preserving social conviviality. I find it a graceful and effective system, and it works to the advantage of both men and women.

Not wanting to go through causing more public rejections, I accepted the 2nd invitation. To my relief, the dance turned out well.

I was keen to put a stop to any further verbal invitations. The only logical conclusion and solution is for me to actively accept some dances via cabaceo. Even more than ever, I felt my eyes to be dangerous weapons which I lack control over. There were no safe directions where they can rest unmolested. Special protective visors required, por favour. With a feeling of desperation like a punter with a last roll of the dice at the roulette tables, I simply casted my eyes in the general direction of the row of tables on the adjacent end of the room where the men sat.

My eyes fell directly onto the path of a milonguero gentleman. In all honesty, I don’t know who was more surprised, him or me. This time I forced myself to hold the locked glance. The milonguero gentleman paused, then asked silently, “bailemos?” Yes, I nodded. There was a hint of disbelief in his expression. We got up to dance but he didn’t appear all that enthusiastic. I knew then that likely he had followed up with the invitation out of politeness, since a younger lady asked and he happened to be caught in an unguarded moment.

My milonguero partner has a precise way of leading with tiny marcas which was yet comfortable. The tanda playing was a mellow one. He danced calmly and very smoothly to the music, and shortly, I relaxed into peaceful, melodic contentment with the music and into my partner’s embrace. By the end of the 2nd song, my partner was also smiling and nodding as we attempted conversation. By the 3rd song, it seemed he has completely forgiven me for any transgression. We parted at the end of the tanda. The feeling of warmth and contentment stayed with me.

“So! How was it??” Colin asked when I returned to the table. “You know, I have not seen him dance with tourist women!” I found out that my partner is a regular milonguero at El Beso. Not only does he dance only selected tandas for the night, he is selective about his partners. It is then that I understood that I had “invited” one of the more exclusive milongueros to dance with me.

Later, from one of the tango mangazines, I found out that the milonguero gentleman’s name is Abel. Always elegantly dressed, in a slightly raffish way. With Rat Pack cool, like an Italiano Frank Sinatra or Sammy Davies Junior.

He is one of my favourite milongueros to watch, I enjoy seeing his style on and off the dance floor. In particular, I am always fascinated by how he does amazingly supertight hiros on the spot, one after another, smoothly, calmly in control. I see Milonguero Abel often at the traditional milongas. He never has a shortage of older, but always pretty and sexy women to dance with. He does not often dance with young women, even the Argentine ones. At least as far as I can tell, unlike some other milongueros, I have not seen him dance with young tourist women.

The tanda with Milonguero Abel was a fortuitous accident on my part. But it would seem I have some ways to go with the cabaceo yet…

La Primera Vez

Early June, 2007

The first few days after I arrived in Buenos Aires were clouded with jet-lag. Lamely, I would dozed off before 9.00pm. On the 5th day, I was resolute tonight I shall venture out to the milongas in Buenos Aires!

So on Monday night, I took out a gold and lace top and dressed with some care. I decided to head out to Lo De Celia as my first milonga in Buenos Aires, since the down to earth atmosphere may be a good place to initiate my entry. I was filled with some trepidation on the way there. Will I be able to communicate at the basic level? Get a table, order drinks, ask questions?

Finally, I reached Humberto 1° 1462 and rang the doorbell. There was no response. I suddenly noticed the 1st floor of the building was dark. With dismay I realize that there is no Monday milonga at Lo De Celia. The information I found on the internet was outdated. Newly arrived, I hadn’t manage to get hold of any of the popular milonga guides such as El Tangauta, La Milonga Argentina, Buenos Aires Tango or even the myriad smaller publications like Diostango, the tango pocket guide Punto Tango etc.

I hailed a cab to go back home, with a sense of anticlimax. On the way back, the cab driver convinced me that instead of heading home, the place to be on Mondays nights should either be Salon Canning or Club Gricel.

Slowly, I walked through the doorway of Salon Canning on the other side of town in Palermo, just before the midnight hour. Despite my trepidations about the inability to communicate, I was shown to a seat in the front row without much ado. As I walked pass the tables to my seat, it must be my overactive imagination; it felt as if many pairs of eyes are looking in my general direction. After a furtive scan of the room, I saw a couple of other Asian faces. 2 guys in their twenties or thirties. No other Asian females. Perplexed, I thought to myself, aren’t the milongas in Buenos Aires filled with tourists? So why am I the only Asian female at this popular milonga…

I watch the dancers with fascination. So many good dancers! A mixture of all ages and a smaller proportion of milongueros. A face in the crowd popped out – I spotted Osvaldo Natucci. The distinctive way that he danced was unmistakable. With a “tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick” energy that seem to have an almost compulsive edge. As if the world moves at twice the speed for him than for everybody else.

It was a pleasure to watch how the dancers are dancing to the music. Like a lost traveler upon sighting an oasis in the desert, I was so eager to observe and absorb everything on the dance floor. Since I had no great intentions of dancing, I did not change into my shoes. Well aware that the invitation to dance was conducted via cabaceo in Buenos Aires, I was careful not to look at anyone directly in case I inadvertently solicit or accept a dance. Occasionally I stole glances around the room and my eyes slided immediately away from any men that made eye contact with mine. To those who initiated verbal invitations, I declined gently and excused myself on the grounds that I shall change shoes later.

A friendly English girl who has been in Buenos Aires for the last 4 months struck up a conversation with me. We enjoyed an entertaining chat about her experiences at the milongas since her arrival.

3 odd hours passed in a flash. An Argentine who knew my new English friend came up to our table. He was middle-aged, dressed in a black jacket with modern cutting and style and spotted an earring in his ear. Even I did not understand the words, it was clear from his gesticulations and expression that he was aware I have not dance the whole night - does she not dance? Yes, I do. So! He was insistent that I must not spent the night without dancing. My excuse of the shoes failed to work this time. I was nonplussed. My friend whispered that perhaps I should entertain this invitation just once to give face to this particular gentleman. Feeling somewhat at a loss, I changed into my shoes and danced a Pugliese tanda.

Immediately after, another dancer more casually dressed struck an invitation and I was on the dance floor again. It was clear from the beginning that I was dancing with a salon-nuevo style dancer. Of course he must be equally aware that I dance milonguero-style. He turned out to be an excellent leader, with very clear lead with full contact of his chest. I felt secure in his embrace, I could feel he waited for my full transfer of weight and firm contact with the ground from one step to the next. I enjoyed a figure-intensive tanda, fairly exhilarating in view that it is out of my usual repertoire of dance.


This was how I ended my first milonga in Buenos Aires at Salon Canning in the wee hours of Buenos Aires. In a good mood but somewhat confounded. One can’t just sit out the night and watch the dancing in the milongas of Buenos Aires, no?

Salon Canning by monteleone

" El proyecto se trata fue realizado en Marzo del 2006 en el marco del Festival de Tango de Bs. As. y con motivo del 50 Aniversario del Salón Canning. El motivo de esta obra es reflejar el clima de la Milonga en un conjunto de imágenes que perteneces, atemporalmente, a la espesura del aire que se percibe es ese espacio. Las fotografías que se exhiben de fondo, pertenecen a la muestra “Mirada de Tango”. "

Monteleone

This piece of artwork by Guillermo Monteleone was created in March 2006, and displayed at an art exhibition at the Salon Canning. The composition was created to mark the Festival de Tango of Buenos Aires, and specifically, to commemorate the 50th Anniversary of Salon Canning last year.

The massive photo mural simply titled "Milonga", measured 13 metres by 3 metres, graced the entire back wall of Salon Canning. It is composed of a montage of dancers at Salon Canning. The effect is a re-creation of the live atmosphere of the milonga, by transfixing the shining, ephemeral split second that is vibrating with the essence of that moment, forever suspended in time.

Besides the glorious hangings of tango masters Claudia Codega & Esteban Moreno lining the walls of Salon Canning, Claudia & Esteban are also featured on the dance floor on the left side of the room. Other famous tango dancers can also be found in the mural montage. How many can you find? :)