La Dulce - A Blog

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Martians in Shropshire

22nd April 2010

Sunday, Uffington village hall, daffodils bobbing on a grassy bank, a shire horse nosing over the fence. Peaceful, after the challenge of the Enganche/Volcada workshop with Eduardo Bozzo.

I plan to laze on the lawn and skip the milonga. I’m tired; too much tango last night - in Birmingham, then in Stoke, the 3am stop-at-the kebab-shop some fun too far, perhaps.

A shadow above me, blotting out the sun. Can’t be a plane; haven’t seen one in the sky since it turned Icelandic ashy. Wait, Maestro Bozzo has brought a friend up from Bristol and this celestial body is asking me to dance. Mmm, I’m not that tired after all.

Off we go…..

Oh, oh-oh-oh…..I’m being danced – really danced., with skill, verve, brio. Unexpected – have I slipped through a cosmic gap and into another galaxy – one where leaders like those in the salons of BsAs materialize in the English countryside? Transport of delight!

I lock onto this lead like a space pod to the mother ship. I am transfixed by the Martian’s turns, twists, his speed-of-light inventiveness, his musicality and care. Not once does he drop the connection to leave me to dither or doubt. But the once when I interrupt our telepathy and toss in a gancho that isn’t lead, he is witty about my temerity and ‘punishes’ me with an ostentatious invitation to do it all again. I’m giggly, giddy… and his!

When, after five, (could he have been having a heavenly experience too?) out-of-this-world dances, I am returned, weak-kneed, to my chair, I stare at his retreating back, expecting him to be green or have kryptonite soles on his dance shoes.

But no, he’s just suede-shod. Human, after all. The green haze must be me glaring at the next Shropshire lass he asks to dance.

~ La Dulce con ojos verdes

Adam's Apples

19th April 2010

A friend wrote this in response to my recent Eve's Dropping posting in praise of older women.

"Although younger women can have great energy and nubility, for leaders, I think the best dancers are over 40, because it requires emotional intelligence and experience to really explore the dance-- younger men and women don't really grasp the connection, can't give enough trust, and can't fully savour the intensity of the beast with four legs, the moments when you really move as one without any idea where you are heading.
They can also enjoy the physical intimacy without getting anxious and insecure. Unlike other dances, I think tango improves with age, and certainly only older women really have what it takes."

Form an orderly queue, mujeres grandes, and I'll slip you his phone number.

~ La Dulce que tiene una manzana nueva de sus ojos

Eve's Droppings

9th April 2010

A friend of mine, a glamorous granny and skilled dancer, bemoaned her planchadora state at a recent milonga. “If you’re this side of 40, they won’t even look at you, over here. In Argentina, there was no problem.”

“That’s becos’ Latinos understand that an older woman is more generous, ” I said, thinking of examples like my porteña friend who remarked about a particular, high-profile dancer.

“He needs a lot of praise, that one.”  I assume she gave it; he kept coming back for more.

Then there was shy young Eric who admits he spent far longer than he would have liked dancing on the wrong side of ineptitude. “Until an older woman held me in an embrace that was like a mother’s. I felt so soothed, so reassured – like she believed I could do it. And I did!”

I am reminded of the pithy paean that did the rounds of email boxes last year. It was attributed to Andy Rooney of CBS’s 60 minutes fame, but seems to have been written by Frank Kaiser of Suddenly Senior. In case you missed it, chicas, enjoy:

“As I grow in age, I value women over 40 most of all. Here are just a few reasons why:

• A woman over 40 will never wake you in the middle of the night and ask, "What are you thinking?" She doesn't care what you think.
• If a woman over 40 doesn't want to watch the game, she doesn't sit around whining about it. She does something she wants to do, and it's usually more interesting.
  
• Women over 40 are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve it, they won't hesitate to shoot you if they think they can get away with it.
  
• Older women are generous with praise, often undeserved. They know what it's like to be unappreciated.
  
• Women get psychic as they age. You never have to confess your sins to a woman over 40.
  
• Once you get past a wrinkle or two, a woman over 40 is far sexier than her younger counterpart.
  
• Older women are forthright and honest. They'll tell you right off if you are a jerk if you are acting like one. You don't ever have to wonder where you stand with her.
  

Yes, we praise women over 40 for a multitude of reasons. Unfortunately, it's not reciprocal. For every stunning, smart, well-coiffed, hot woman over 40, there is a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool of himself with some 22-year old waitress. Ladies, I apologize. For all those men who say, "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?" here's an update for you. Nowadays 80% of women are against marriage. Why? Because women realize it's not worth buying an entire pig just to get a little sausage! “

~ La Dulce, ji, ji, ji.

 
The Embrace

9th March 2010

There is life after the flashing (non-crashing) salons of Buenos Aires, it turns out. Last weekend my sagging spirits revived at a milonga run by Tango Manchester.

I’ve heard the Longfield Suite described by many as having the best dance floor outside of the Blackpool Tower ballroom. I’ve never been to the Tower, but it must be awesome if it beats the gleaming stretch of sprung mahogany that graced this place.

Outside was intimidating: down a dead end in Prestwich, concrete 60s block, car park littered with Hoodies. Not sniff of Starbucks in the chippy air. But inside, plush enough -- big reception area, long bar, fairy lights and tables (too many for the relatively small number of dancers) but oh, that floor. Room even to planeo, (not I, not since my wilful limbs have been re-educated) an excellent sound system, and DJ Joel’s superb Pugliese tandas. So, I was smiling, especially after the maestro complimented me on my …. Embrace.

Yesyesyesyes…………YESSSSSSSSSS!

You have no idea how I sweated it (literally too) in BsAs, trying to crack the code that seemed to be the secret of Giving Good Dance. Every teacher banged on about El Abrazo – my right hand was limp, then it was too ‘fuerte’; my left arm was a millstone round leaders’ necks, then it was soufflé – pretty, airy but with no ‘taste’. A lifted elbow looked ‘feo’, contracting my shoulder blades, even worse. Most sinful of all, I invaded the ‘sacred space’ with my transgressive pecho. (Good job I left home ‘sin’ conical Madonna-bra.)

The Tango Anarchist’s theory is that for tango dancers, Buenos Aires is like The Emerald City in the The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. Get there, and you find what you are looking for. And it was there all the time.

Si, claro asi, the journey’s the thing, not the destination.

Un abrazo,
~ La Dulce