Another Class with Jorge

Well my brain is well and truly fried, what that man can do with his feet defies description, and he wanted me to copy him. I tried honestly I tried, but it will take a lot of work and practice to get anywhere near what he achieves.

We started with some basics, just walking, but to a milonga beat and in a way I have not done before not double time and not single time, but with adornments that look really cool. When he moved into double time though I could not keep up, but he slowed it right down for me.

I cannot use my age as an excuse he is more senior than me by twenty years, and Susana, well I am not sure. To look at the pair of them you would not put either at more than fifty, Jorge? well I know his age, but Susana it would be rude to even guess although here it seems to be of less importance. Technically here you can ask a woman her age, but we British are still constrained by our reserve.

Anyway by the time we finished I had a catalogue of new milonga moves and a sore belly from laughing so much, I just hope I can remember all he taught us.

Susana told us that non of the milongas would be open because of the census tomorrow, but as we had to pass Salon La Argentina on our way to the subte we thought it best to check El Aranque for ourselves. Viv was hungry and said that we should stop first as everywhere may be closed soon. I then had an idea “why not phone ahead and check” so we got the number from the guide and I rang them. “hola Salon la Argentina” “hola es abierto hoy?” “si por supuesto” “hasta quando?” then I got hit with a load of gibberish and they hung up. Ah well at least we knew they were open.

So we spent a pleasant afternoon practicing our milongas, but first we had one of their excellent pizzas. Everyone raves about Argentine pizzas but we prefer the american style, here though the pizza is more to our taste and we were thoroughly ready for it. It disappeared in no time at all, I am just glad we asked for chica, that was a twelve-inch, god knows what size a grande would have been.

Janis joined us later and kept us company, and filming us occasionally, despite me telling her that we needed to practice what we had learned and it would not look good. She managed to get a dance with a  milonguero even though she had not brought her shoes and insisted on dancing with me before we left (doesn’t that break one of the codigos? a woman asking a man).

We left each other at Corrientes, she to catch a bus and me to use the subte and my new monedera card. When we got back we practiced some more, I still have not got it, I think now it is just tiredness maybe it will work in the morning.



Filed under Argentina, Tango

3 responses to “Another Class with Jorge

  1. jantango

    If I had read your comment first, I would have asked, “Nestor who?” Thanks for informing me about the death of former President Nestor Kirchner. It’s a difficult time for President Fernandez.

    I felt more sadness last Friday when I learned about the death of guitarist Anibal Arias, one of Cafe de los Maestro.

  2. tangobob

    Don’t give my age away, I’m just a bit of a kid really.
    You got me on that one but there was no one left to see us change our shoes, and yes I did enjoy the dance.
    It just shows that no one ever realy knows what is going on here, they do not even know what will be closed and when, BTW have you heard that Nestor died this morning?

  3. jantango

    Now hold on a minute. If Jorge is 20 years older than you are, that means you are younger that Viv!

    The census taker said I could “lie” to the questions. He asked my age and birthdate. I told the truth. You can ask an Argentine their age, but that doesn’t mean they’re going to tell you the truth.

    That tango was Lagrimas, and it was too lovely not to have one dance with you. After all, we had the floor to ourselves because everyone had left El Arranque by that time. No code-breakers here, although the two of you changed shoes at the table.

    We have to wait until December for all the buses to have the Monedero card system operational. The political wheels move slowly here.

    I waited for the bus in front of El Beso. I saw the milonguero with whom I danced a vals tanda standing by the door. He said the place was packed since no one had to work the next day. I wasn’t even tempted to enter. It’s just not my kind of place to dance.

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