I thought we were having a rest today, but somehow it never happens. We ended up walking up Medrano up to Rivadavia again. Viv wanted to look in the box shop again hoping to find some underbed storage. This was never going to happen as there is only eleven centimeters clearance. Still on the way up there she bought some fruit off a very nice man who (I think) actually understood we come from another country than London.

I also had to buy some credit for my phone; it seems to go nowhere here. I had hoped to make a reserva for tonight, but with no credit that was not going to happen. We stopped for ice-cream on Rivadavia, the ice-cream here is famous, expensive, but famous, and it was in lieu of lunch afterall. Viv had Swiss chocolate and I had pistachio and dulche de leche. Well in Argentina you simply must have dulche de leche.

We popped into Easy again, still looking for a box, still not finding it, but we amused the security. You see when you enter they seal your bag in another bag to ensure you steal nothing. All we had was two apples and three bananas in ours.

We had planned a bit of a marathon tonight, our friends wanted to meet us at Gricel but we wanted to go to Fulgor first. Then they told us ten and Fulgor does not open until nine on a Thursday so this would never work. The subte are on strike tonight so instead we caught the 127 from Corrientes.

Table booked in the name of Emilio I said as we entered “(reserve en nombre de Emilio)”. Blank faces all around. I tried again “emilio?) No response. They stuck us on a small table right at the back, out of harm’s way.

We were not happy, the waitress came with a menu stood there for a few seconds, then disappeared. We decided to get up and dance, well what else we could do? Eventually we managed to attract the waitress again, Viv wanted us to order double to save waiting again, but I said “no I am not staying here”.

True to form our friends arrived late, and as I saw them enter I pursued them down the room. When I caught up with them, I told them of my difficulty. I was then introduced to Emilio (known to his friends, and probably the doorman, as Osso). Nobody could see the irony of telling me to ask for Emilio when everyone knows him as Osso.

We did a few dances together and of course with Juan and Mariela. Viv soon got bored and said ”you go off and play” I needed no more encouragement.

We were sitting right at the front and it was difficult to attract attention, so I started with a lady I had danced with in Chique. As we danced she gave me the rundown on Ruben (organizer of Nuevo Chique) things do not look good for him. Our thoughts are with him and Marcela and if we do not see them this trip I sincerely hope we will see them next time.

Well I got a few good dances and some nice compliments “tienes compas”  (you have rhythm) and “I feel safe with you, you have a good embrace. Not like a foreigner “ were amongst them.  It gives me a warm feeling when these people so accept us. The fact that I get a second dance is compliment enough for me.

Viv took her time latching on to the men; she still has a problem with the cabeceo. However she is getting the hang of it and managed a few dances, although (in her words) she still gets the nutcases.

We stayed almost to the end to our surprise, Juan had left early “estoy cansado Bob” I have written to him today telling him he is getting too old. Mariela surprised us too, we walked out with her and she took a taxi. In the past she always used the collective.

We had a problem finding our bus stop. I asked a local “donde es la parada uno viente siete”  he answered “ciento viente siete?” I am sure if I had said it that way he would have corrected me the other way, still he was very helpful.

The trouble was it was on a very dark, not very salubrious street and we waited half an hour before we saw another waiting passenger. We were harangued by beggars “solo una peso senor” and watched furtively from the park opposite. No wonder Mariela took a taxi. Two young lads had joined us in the queue and kept us quite entertained especially when a 127 passed in the next street going the wrong way “bad luck” they said. When I gave in and gave a peso to a beggar they shouted after him”GRACIAS, THANK YOU VERY MUCH” but our beggar had no shame.

They also told us the busses come every hour, and true to their word, we waited a full hour for our bus. It was very welcome when it arrived, but I think, from Gricel I would take a taxi next time.



Filed under Argentina, milonga, Tango

2 responses to “Gricel

  1. tangobob

    Oso was not the organiser, but a friend of Mariela’s. Obviously not as good as Fulgor, nothing could be, still we had a pleasant evening with some old friends. As for the bus, of course we could have beaten it home, but we did not know what time it would come so we were in a cleft stick; do we walk and risk the bus passing us at the next block or do we wait. Next time? in the words of Eliza Dolittle “not bloody likely, I’ll take a taxi”

  2. jantango

    You should know that Daniel Rezk, one of the organizers of the Thursday milonga La Cachilla at Club Gricel, speaks English. They take reservations, but they seat you wherever if they don’t know you. There’s Osvaldo who is known as “El Oso” (the bear), but I’ve never heard of Emilio. It doesn’t sound like you had as pleasant a night as you do at Club Fulgor. If you had started walking, you would have arrived home before the bus. Note the time the bus arrives and be there early next time to avoid an hour wait. That’s the way the buses run after 10:00pm — hourly.

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