Day 93 – Tango
I tried tango, once, in Edinburgh. It looks amazing, seeing two able dancers with an electric connection. When I had a go, it didn’t look amazing. I went to a beginners class with my old flatmate, Laura, and we were standing all over each other’s feet. I thought it was a shame for her – she really wanted to dance but was as bad as me. Then she was chosen by the instructor to demonstrate a move and suddenly was transformed into a fluid, sensuous dancer.
I realised it was just me that wasn’t very good at tango.
But I had a burning desire to see some tango in its spiritual home. I spoke to a few people, tried to decipher a tango city map in German that the tourist office gave me, and identified a couple of hotspots where couples go to make dancefloor love.
One of the best, and oldest, is called Confiteria Ideal. Its tucked down a narrow street off Diagonal North, in the centre of town. I knew I was close as suddenly I was surrounded by tango shops. These are almost as interesting as the venues – full of elegant heels in bright red, green and purple, and more sequined dresses.
Tango dancers at Plaza Dorrego...get your change out.
I walked up the old wooden staircase at Ideal and watched a tango couple doing some moves for a professional photographer. They were probably posing for photographs sold to tourists around town. I took my own sneaky photo and headed on up to the dancefloor, where lots of middle aged couple were slowly spinning their way around to some very old crackly music.
A woman behind a counter told me I would have to pay 18 pesos to get in. I thought about it, and decided a quick peak from the other side of the counter was enough. I took a couple of photos and headed off.
Later I headed back to San Telmo and watched some tango dancers performer for tourists at an outdoor cafe in Plaza Dorrego. It was all beginning to look a bit one-dimensional.
“They are always drunk and that’s why the music is very sad, very tragic,” said Nico, later on. “This is why I don’t like tango.” It’s very much geared for tourists, although aficionados can certainly spend many an hour dancing to their heart’s content at a milonga, or dance.
I decided that, like Nico, tango didn’t really do very much for me. Too touristy, too dreary. Nothing to do with that failed beginner’s class with my old flatmate, obviously.
