the grumpy taxi driver and the elegant woman
I wrote a post in BA that seemed not to have survived about the grumpy taxi driver and the elegant woman.
I’m over the shitty taxi driver and here’s a photo of the elegant woman dancing. Back only. She is about 70 and so elegant and refined. Glorious.
no tengo
When I was last in Argentina the expression ´no tengo´ drove me nutty. I saw it as an expression of disinterest. I now realise that it´s a bit like the Greek ¨Ti tha kano?´ (What can I do?).
´No tengo´ seems to mean ´No we don´t have it and I can´t tell you why. Maybe the peso will fall. Maybe the Americans have landed. Maybe the bloody English will invade us from the Malvinas. Maybe there´ll be another dictatorship. Maybe the power will finally fail. Maybe tomorrow this shop won´t be here´.
Not that I am asking for anyone to tiene mucho. I walked today past consumer city and decided that the only things I seriously lusted after were way out of my price range.
Tango and health notes: The hip is miraculously better. Doesn´t even have to unravel when I dance. I suspect it´s the elevator in the building which has a mind of it´s own and shakes my spine and hips into place. Today I met the world´s grumpiest taxi driver (I hope his sidewindow broke when I slammed the door) and saw the world´s most elegant woman. About 70 but sooo elegant and restrained. Yes, I danced. No, not a lot. But I did get told that I danced well but that was by a fellow my new German friend refers to as ´vampires. Was it my perfume or the skin on my neck? But it was a nice dance.
this could be the last time
or not.
Last time I went to Europe I wore one pair of orthotic shoes, a brace and a crutch. This time, alas, I am packing shoes. No, not alas – it’s great but they do weigh a bit more than no shoes at all.
I’m off to Valencia, land of orange groves, if old school songs are anything to go by. To a digital storytelling conference.
I’m meeting up with an old friend with whom I’ve weathered many a storm and with whom I’ve had many a wonderful trip: Patmos, Naples, Auckland West Coast Beaches, Hatepe, London, Brighton and possibly a few others.
Here he is at Pompeii.
I’m also collecting the last of a sister set: Sharon, Judy, Rosie and finally Margaret.
And I hope to dance some tango, thanks to my wonderful, fabulous, chiropractor David, who after about 10 attempts finally worked on the neck so that it came unstuck. Finally, after 3 weeks I feel sane again.
Phew.
And then I visit some new friends in Buenos Aires. And, just maybe, dance some more.
tango blurb
Tripalbum.net / Licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5 Generic licence / Wikimedia Commons.
A good night of tango and not much to say except that it’s an up and down life in tango.
There are the nights when you go home wanting to cut your wrists, the nights you can’t do anything right and the nights that someone says you dance smoothly and that it’s a lovely time they have with you.
It’s hard learning a new thing at this stage in your life. But at least you are mature enough sometimes to take the good with the bad and know that sometime it’s right and sometimes it just isn’t.
And sometimes is the key to all this.
And the tongue firmly in the cheek.
gracias tango salon adelaide
So, returning to the initial question. Sadly, in some respects, too much musicality in the dance is indeed possible. The intellect should not dominate the dance, whether it’s by over-analysis of the music, or attempts to reproduce certain “steps”. Anything resulting in a stilted and contrived dance, will be in conflict with social tango
beat it
Angels. Used via cc attribution licence from Hermione Presents. http://www.hermione-presents.com
You and I travel to the beat of a different drum….
So sang Linda Ronstad in the 1970s.
And so, perhaps, might my tango teacher.
It’s caused me to reflect on how people listen to music.
So, I’ve loaded up my car and home stereos with wall to wall tango. And I notice how much happier I am when something with lyrics comes along, although I am fond of tango waltzes.
When there are no words I feel myself drift away to several other things, but words, even Spanish or Greek, make me alert. In tango of course words like corazon, suenos, recuerdo, solidad enable guesswork and the songs tend to be about my heart recalling the dreams of yesteryear and the memories of lost love.
It’s why, I realise, I prefer opera to instrumental music and can usually catch a word or two about passion, living for love or art and so on.
So, I’m back trying to listen to the music. But with a singer I am imagining the dance to the voice not the beat underneath.
It’s not that I don’t hear the rhythm, and thought (clearly erroneously) that I was getting much better at hearing it and at waiting (even attempting a small adorno) for my partner to pick up the beat and move me along (or backwards usually).
So – leave aside the melody and listen to the beat. OK I will.
