Tag Archives: schadenfreude

Can we have some women please

We arrived early for our second visit to Stanley palace. Sharon and Eric were already there but otherwise we were the first to arrive.

I had some time to explore this fine old building. The room we are in now had traditional beams up the walls with white plaster between. A huge wooden beam stretched across the fireplace, reputed to have come from one of the ships that used to dock at the old Watergate. The ceiling is also beamed but stretching from the fire towards the stairs is something more modern looking, I suspect that some steel has been built in to preserve the structure and this has been boxed in.

The wide staircase in the far corner turns ninety degrees after six steps and follows the wall up to the top. Above here is a gallery leading to another room above our dance room, wood panels divide this from the gallery and a Steinway grand lays waiting for someone to bring it to life. I am tempted to tickle the ivories, but I lack the knowledge or talent to do it any sort of justice.

Behind the gallery is a double wooden door with a sign telling key holders to use only in an emergency, but despite my curiosity I am unable to find out more.

The whole building has a feeling of another age, and I wonder if we should be using it as a dance venue or just admiring something that has stood for so long. This is believed to be the most haunted house in Chester, it certainly is the right setting, I could well imagine Ann Bolin walking down the gallery with her head tucked under her arm. Thinking like this I return to our dance room just as the music begins.

More people soon appeared, Paul, Graham, Ralf. Things were not looking good on the women front, soon there were six men and Viv. Even if Roberta made another appearance the numbers would not tally.  A couple arrived, but that did little to redress the balance, we desperately needed some women.

At one point I even tried dragging some off the street but to no avail. Sharon was desperately thinking how to alter tonight’s class to suit just leaders. Luckily just before the class started some women finally arrived and we had a quorum. Roberta would be needed but the numbers would at last tally.

I had worked hard in the garden and was tired and not relishing following tonight, but this is the arrangement we have, so I carried on.

Women seem to be always late in Chester and after half an hour another arrived, meaning I could finally sit down. I perched myself in the kitchen hatch where I could watch all the proceedings, looking like a garden gnome it amused the dancers.

Sharon was trying to teach the cross in cross system, with double time on the cross and also when the man changes weight. This caused some confusion for the less experienced, I do enjoy the way that Sharon can make light of the errors so much so that I sat there smiling sniggering and laughing all through the class.

Nobody took offence, I never intend any, but sometimes my mirth is misunderstood, it is a credit to the whole group that we just enjoy the good, the bad, and the ugly in equal measure. When I am dancing, I am often known to break into laughter, some ladies think that they must have done something wrong, but for me the joy comes when things go right, as well as when things go wrong. I gave up apportioning blame years ago, if something fails try again, if it fails a second time do something else, enjoy the moment, we dance for pleasure, we dance with each other, and if someone is watching, then they must enjoy it for what it is or ignore us, the dance is not for them but us.

So now I am the audience, and so I beg you, do not think my laughter criticism, I merely enjoy the moment with you, this is not schadenfreude, nobody is in pain, hopefully everyone enjoys the dance as much as me.

My time as audience is not to last, Elena arrives late and so I take her in to the room and hope I can quickly bring her up to the rest of the class. I enjoy this too, giving a bit of help to a beautiful young lady is one of my greatest pleasures.

Once again I had arrived tired and fed up, not looking forward to the night, and once again I ended up enjoying myself immensely. The music, the other dancers, and especially Sharon lift me to a place I would never get to on my own. I think that tango should be prescribed for anyone with depression. The curse of the modern age could be eliminated if everyone left their televisions and just came out dancing.

The practica carried on until eleven thirty. When I am not working the next day I make a point of staying until the end. A few others also stayed the distance, but unfortunately the women were soon all gone. Viv was not unhappy with this situation as she got to dance every dance, whereas I will sit out allowing others to practice. Nobody was interested in Roberta now the class was over. I guess dancing with a man is OK in class but never socially.


Filed under Dance Venues and Schools, milonga


Another of Sally’s recomendations is the Rosedahl, so I thought we would have a relaxing day there. I spent twenty minutes with the Guia T trying to decide which collectivo to take. In the end I gave up, we are on holiday with plenty of time, it is easier to walk, and more healthy.

As we walked through the gate a dog passed through as well, obviously this one could not read, as a big sign said “Perros No”. We sat and ate an apple drinking our Jugo Pomelo and watched ammused as a warden tried in vain to catch the dog. When she had finally given up the dog, who obviously could recognise dog lovers, came and lay down behind our bench.  He was a mangy beast covered in sores and scratches. He also seemed to spend most of his time in a state of arousal.

The gardens were full of maintenance people and we were moved on by a guy with a strimmer. He did not want us hit by flying gravel. The dog followed. We relocated to some benches by the waters edge, and Viv carried on reading. In time a family came past, they made the mistake of stroking our faithless dog, now he was theirs. We watched again ammused as they attempted to get rid of him, even calling one of the wardens over.

As we sat, suddenly we were sprayed with bird droppings. Just at that time a couple suddenly appeared to help, with tissues and water. What we did not realise imediately was that said droppings arrived from the side and were not of bird dropping consistancy. Viv had the wearwithall to put all her things back into her bag and close it. I allowed the woman to offer my wet tissues but would not let her touch me. The ladrones soon gave up and went after other prey, but the stuff they had sprayed on us stunk.

We moved away and eventually found somewhere else to rest. I left Viv reading and explored a little. There is another exit over the water on a bridge that looks almost Japanese. On the far side of the bridge I saw our dog again whimpering, it seems he never found a new owner, had we been more permanent here I would have taken sympathy on him, but I do not think Philippe would have thanked me for lumbering him with a dog.

We walked back past the zoo, and on the back fence was a big poster entreating us not to abandon our pets. Was this aimed especially at me?

As I have said before, for those who do not know, almost all the streets here are one way. The one we were travelling up now was no exception other than although the traffic was all facing the same way, non of it was moving. Aparently if you make enough noise with your horn people will get out of the way, but not today. Further up the street some cars had turned around, trying to drive against the flow causing even more chaos. About the centre we saw a furniture van delivering a bookshelf, I thought at first this was causing the holdup, but the chaos continued in front, and the two guys delivering were laughing with a sort of schadenfreude.

When we got to the next junction it all became clear, in typical Argentine fashion, they were repairing the road. The whole of the junction was being resurfaced, but noone had posted signs at the ends of the roads, so there were two streets full of traffic with nowhere to go. All they could do was sound their horns and overheat their engines. No one had the where withall to get out of their car walk to the end of the street and tell the drivers coming up what was happening, and to simply turn around.

For our nightly dance we return to Viejo correo, literally the old post office. There have been some alterations here, the cieling has been covered with some sort of splatted concrete and the old facimily of La Boca has gone, also alot of the paintings are missing and there has been some general rearanement.

I was dissapointe with tonight, the tandas were arranged in a completely random fashion and the standard of dance was awful. There was much changing of lanes, people running into the back of us, and just inconsiderate use of the floor. Considering that it was not crowded the dancing was very difficult. Friday night here was one of my favourites I think I will have to cross it off my list.

There was even one guy who was doing some very fancy nuevo stuff, big lifts, ganchos and stuff. The problem was he was completely out of time. When there was a milonga he was almost there, but when Canaro was played, he did not slow down a bit. We left for an early night.


Filed under Argentina, Dance Venues and Schools, milonga