More on Revolution

We seem to spend longer and longer in bed these days. There was only time for a short shopping trip this morning, for some veg and minced beef. Food tends not to keep well here, I think that apart from the temperature and humidity, there is less preservatives. So we buy food fresh every day, all in all a good thing.

Thursday and another visit to Nuevo Chique. Early on we did very well for dances, but things became difficult as the volume made cabeceo hard to do. The numbers of women here today was phenomenal. Viv did very well considering, she only really missed out on the milonga tanda.

I think I upset one of her favourites though. He came in after the first tanda and asked Viv to dance, but I had already asked her. Then at the end I had changed my shoes, and Miguel loves his Pugliese, but Viv had misunderstood my gestures and told him I would be angry. I never dance Pugliese here so I would not have been bothered but she went without dancing with him. On top of this I no longer give him my sorteo ticket, not for any bad reason but just because he does not want the champagne.  I will have to be more careful next week.

There were a lot of new women here, turistas, I assume. A lot of the women though were ones who I regularly dance with, not usually in one place though. There was no time to dance with anyone twice. I am afraid I missed one or two. More that I have upset, I will have to build some bridges next week.

We stopped off at Revolutionario again. There was quite a crowd here as well, must be a Thursday thing. We sat further in and realized how big  this place is. There was an office alongside where we sat and I could see files by the hundred. Further inside was a wonderful carved staircase and somewhere beyond was a meeting room. We knew this because we could hear occasional applause.

Obviously the Madres de Plaza del Mayo is an organization of some significance. The files alone show how much work has been done over the years, but I never realized they had such an organization. Meetings and lectures and who knows what else goes on here.

When we left the threatened rain had not arrived, but the amount of people outside and milling on the pavement confused me and I had trouble finding the bus stop. I must be getting old.



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Filed under Argentina, milonga, Tango

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