My Tango Class With El Pulpo

I took a fun class from El Pulpo last night at La Pista. El Pulpo, ("The Octopus" in Spanish) is visiting from Buenos Aires and he's so named because of his intricate, intertwining leg movements (see video). Aside from having fun learning these new, octopus-like moves, the important thing El Pulpo stressed is the importance of relaxing your whole body when dancing tango. Too often my upper body is tense & I know I unintentionally transmit that to my partner.

Tonight is El Pulpo's last night teaching in San Francisco. But he has one more class tonight at La Pista, which I'd recommend taking if you can. Women, in particular, seem to really get into his teaching.

Also, I want to give a big shout-out to Tom, who runs La Pista. Tom and all the teachers there have done a great job of building up these classes and milongas. It was more crowded last night than ever with a wonderful mix of dancers of all levels.

Dank U

That's Dutch for thank you. And this is in relation to the "why won't he dance with me" thread. I've called a few tangueros across the States, as well as beyond the States to survey the answer.

One thing I hadn't thought of was this - I won't dance with a woman who offended one of my friends. Some people are loyal to a fault when it comes to their friends. I can well understand my dislike of someone who offended one of my bosom buddies. And I have shunned a few dancers in my day because of this very reason. So my dear ladies, be careful of who you're rude to - or better yet, it is a better policy to be rude to no one.

A woman's aroma - though rare- my affect some people the wrong way. Too much perfume will nauseate, some perfumes are just so heady it is overwhelming to the senses or some gentlemen even prefer women with no perfume. And by the end of the sweaty night, even the most well groomed of women may become an embarrassment. To err on the side of caution, I bring along a small bottle of soap smelling eau de toilette. No one objects to the clean smell of soap, regardless of the most discriminating of nostrils.

Sigh - tango is indeed a two way street. Just because one person feels a connection doesn't mean the other person feels exactly the same way. Although I have a funny story to tell on this one.

------ I was dancing at a local favourite. A gentleman of great esteem found himself smitten with me after a time. This was a few years ago. I just found out about the crush along the grapevine a few months ago. The gentleman is American - a significant factor. I've always believed that the push for equality and political correctness in this country went too far and the mating rituals and rules got really fuzzy down someone's toilet. Where I come from the males and the rituals are a little more clear. Generally if a males sees a female he likes/adores he goes after her with due attention. Makes perfect sense to me.

The grapevine that told me of this long ago crush made me smile with irony. I had a crush on him too, around the general time he had a crush on me. However, I believed since he didn't give me any indication whatsoever that he had any partiality towards me, I summed it up as a dead end endeavour. Ships passing in the night, I guess.

Onward we go---

Mark dear, it's such a sad, sad thing to hear you won't have a tangeura who's better than you. You're missing out. I've danced with many beginners, some good, some bad, some extremely regretful and some wonderful. A tango is a tango is a tango - all precious when done right. As for the intricate movements, the fancy boleos, double ganchos, they're just window dressing. To me, those things are like Christmas presents - pretty wrappings, but hardly the present itself.

One of my favourtie dancers is Robert Hauk out of Portland (he teaches too). He's not into the fancy stuff and some women confess they don't know why he's so popular. To be honest, he's no Homer or Murat, but the ladies who have danced with him say something like this...

"An ocho with Robert, is no ordinary ocho. It is the delicate and sublime movement of your body in accordance to music and man." Hmmm... Yum.

It's not what you know my dear, it's what you do with it, and most importantly HOW you do it. I've had sublime dances that were just mesmerizing walks and slow, sensual turns about the floor.

In the end it's how you feel that matters most.

Tango Rejuvination

A long day at work, a longer drive from Marin back to San Francisco, I'm not feeling energetic about doing a tango class as I finally find a parking spot. I slowly get out of my car and feel the chill in the air. But across the street I hear a slow, alluring tango floating out of the studio, down the sidewalk, around the faces sitting next to each other at the tables in front of a French cafe, the notes linger there enjoying the conversation, finally they turn red and yellow and flow inside Coleur restaurant where they mix with blue salsa notes swimming upstream.

I'm inside the studio now & I feel the warmth of the people. I look around & realize this class is so San Francisco...such a wonderful mix of people it feels like the UN, but with better dancers. A tall African-American woman glides through backward ochos while her face beams. To her right is a short, semingly shy Asian-American woman wearing glasses who has just rotated to a tall Caucasian man. He is so happy to see her he picks her up in a big bear hug & her feet are now dangling three feet off the ground, which breaks through her shell & she can no longer contain the big grin that spreads across her delicate face. To her right is an Italian man talking to himself as he repeats the leader's steps over & over again. His face is intense with focus at first, but then slowly relaxes as he gets better at the move with each run through.

I'm feeling rejuvinated now. This class is about to end and I'm ready for mine to start. Christy Cote is teaching the class how to cabeceo in her usual endearing way. The class takes partners as they begin their last dance, full of joy to tango, but sad it's their last of the night. Their class ends, mine begins. I'm energized now by the music and friends. I walk to one of my favorite partners and we take each other into a close embrace for our warmup tango. I'm very happy to be here...

3 Reasons Why I Won't Ask A Woman To Dance

As usual, Sappho has posted a provacative question: "why won't men ask certain women to tango?". She even speculates as to the possible reasons: "Am I not good enough? Maybe he just doesn't like my style. Maybe I'm too short/tall/skinny/fat/etc." Such explanations are possible, I suppose. I know I've wondered if some women won't dance with me because I don't tango well enough. And, yet, while I can't speak for all men, there are three reasons why I won't ask a woman to dance, but they don't have anything to do with the reasons above. Women, I don't expect you to think my reasons are logical any more than you should expect us men to understand your fixation with tango shoes, but here goes.

Let me explain, one by one.
1. I won't ask a woman to tango if she's a lot better than me. This is because I feel like I'm pulling her down to my level and, anyways, how interesting can my tango be for her if I can't match her level? Yea, part of this reason probably mixes in some of my male ego, too, but I'll leave the psychoanalysis to others. I will dance with a woman that's a little better than me, but not a lot. If a woman is a lot better than me I'll wait a few months & hope I close the gap. Sometimes this works, sometimes it bombs. There's an Alicia Keys-like tanguera I've wanted to dance with for a long time, but whom I hadn't seen in 2 months. Well, I saw her at a milonga last week & even though I've gotten a little better, she's gotten a lot better! So, now she's a mile better than me & at this rate I'll probably never ask her to dance. Yeah, I know--this probably seems crazy in a lot of ways. But it's my code & I'm about as likely to change it as I am to ask for directions while driving.

2. I won't ask a woman if she's in a relationship/married & she & her partner mostly dance with themselves. Some couples love dancing with other people & some couples mainly dance with themselves. It's their prerogative & I'm cool either way, but I pay attention to this stuff. I am not going to do anything that would remotely be perceived as trying to cut in.

3. I won't ask a woman to tango if she's in a relationship/married & I'm particulary drawn to her. This all starts with the unspoken code men have about respecting boundaries with each other and their girlfriends/wives. This is really all about the Golden Rule. Don't get me wrong, there's a small percentage of would-be players out there who don't respect these boundaries, but a cautious eye is kept on them. The vast majority of men, though, honor the code. I met a very nice couple in class once & when I rotated to her I was only thinking about the move we were working on. We took each other into a close embrace and immediately we had a connection I experience only 3 or 4 times a year. I felt it from our first salida--we were in synch the whole song & our give-and-take was rare. It kind of spooked me because I normally only have that kind of connection with a woman if we're dating. The song ended and I could tell from her glance she noticed it, too. I'm not sure who had the more confused "how the hell did that just happen!?!" expression. But she's in a relationship, so even though it was the best tango I'd had in 6 months, I also knew it would be our last. I saw them at a milonga recently, but couldn't ask her to tango...a brother's gotta respect the code.

P.S.
Sappho, although I've never danced with you, I can tell from your posts that you're an excellent dancer. I doubt the guy hasn't asked you to dance because you're not a good enough dancer. As I mentioned in my Reason #1 above, you might be too good! But I need to raise one other possible reason. I know guys that won't ask a single woman to dance if they're too drawn to them. Personally, I make a point of asking these women to dance--it creates a great tango vibe. But I know guys that feel awkward dancing with women they are particularly intrigued by. So, it's possible he's taken by you. I'm sure this wouldn't be the first time you've met a guy at a milonga that's fallen for you.

the Tango that Never Happened

Life's full of tough choices, my friends. Luckily, the toughest choices we have to make as tangueras & tangueros is who to dance with.

In a small community where everyone knows everyone, there isn't much choice. You just have to dance with everyone or else be considered a snob. You may have your favourites of course, but still. In a larger community or a festival, you can get away with a "list". Please allow me to relate how a "list" came about and how to compile one.

I arrive at a festival or say... a tango community where I happen to be visiting for whatever reasons. The first thing I do is put on my tango shoes. This signals to everyone I am ready to dance. Also this is a great way for making conversations with the ladies, which is of the utmost importance, at least in my esteem. The ladies present at tango festivals have vast amounts of knowledge that is not to be ignored. First things first, compliments are called for. We ladies greatly enjoy receiving compliments and I adore giving compliments as well.

"Great shoes! Are those Comme Il Fauts/Neo Tangos/etc?" Hence the importance of putting on your shoes. This allows other ladies to compliment each other on their shoes and create conversation. Besides, checking out someone's shoes is great fun as well as having them check out yours.

After the great shoes conversation we make more conversation with more personal questions. Then comes the biggie.

"So... please do tell, who are the gentlemen here I should/shouldn't dance with?" Each of us have danced with people who are divine and those less than divine, or even downright scary. Girls like to talk. As for the guys, please do not deny. You guys talk too, just in different ways and not always in the powder room together. Each person has their list of should/shouldn't-dance-with-people. I believe it's important when at a festival or unknown place to find someone who does know and get their intake.

For instance, this has saved me from dancing with a certain gentleman who has a tendency of rendering followers into sacks of potatoes. The girls had warned me and I took their warning to heart. Then later I saw a hapless woman with a pinched face being bandied about the floor like she was the newest bag of cous-cous. I felt bad for her and glad for myself and the girls who warned me. Most important is the Do Not list.

Then there is the must dance with list. This list is generally longer than the Do Not list. Most girls are not mean or evil and do not put a gentleman's name on the Do Not list unless she had a thoroughly miserable time. Also, I firmly believe that the tango world is overall a positive and outwardly looking society and we like to focus on the positives. Sometimes the Must Dance With list is long (a rather wonderful thing) and we can't dance with them all in one night/festival/event. Which presents a dilemma.

And then here's the iffy and tough part. Those on the Must Dance With list we try to get their attention, get introductions, etc. After that, we angle for dances. Sometimes those dances never happen. There have been instances when two incredible dancers, being apprised of each other's talents, become like ships passing in the night. A few women have come up to me and told me of gentlemen, who have been introduced, known and chatted with, who never asks them for dances. Even more bizarre is when these gentlemen turn down the lady when asked.

"I don't understand it. I don't think I'm a bad dancer. Yet he never dances with me."

It begs the question, why won't he dance with me? My answer... who knows? Thinking back upon my experiences, there is this one gentleman whom I see and chat with at all the festivals we see each other, which is several times a year. We seem to have the same schedule and like the same festivals. He is gentlemanly and has good manners and is a great dancer. He's one of those die hard tangueros that will dance until the dawn. He dances with all my friends and we have mutual friends in common. But he has yet to ask me to dance. When I catch his eye, he smiles and leads another lady to the floor. He has never been rude in any way, but he has never indicated he would ever be interested in dancing with me. So why won't he dance with me? Am I not good enough? Maybe he just doesn't like my style. Maybe I'm too short/tall/skinny/fat/etc.

Ladies, please don't do this to yourself. Who knows why he won't dance with you/me and in the end, who cares? There's so many other dancers out there, so many possibilities and so much enjoyment to be had. I spared this gentleman perhaps 15 minutes of my mental space, wondering why. Then a another dancer asks me for a tanda and he's out of my thoughts. Who cares why he won't dance with me? All that matters is that I'm dancing, I'm having a wonderful time - that you are having a wonderful time, meeting people, and hailing to the gods of tango.

My Great Tango Private With Diego Escobar & Angi Staudinger

I just had an excellent private tango lesson with Diego & Angi. As you can see from their video, they have a wonderful sense of style and elegance. Everything they do looks so natural and effortless. I also took a super tango class of theirs at the Slovenian Hall Monday & they gave a fantastic performance afterwards. I think they were planning on performing two songs at first, but with the loud applause and the crowd chanting "Otra vez!" in unison they happily performed a third.

What did I learn in my tango private tonight? It's hard to boil 4 pages of great tango feedback into a few gems. But one intriguing thing is that they teach when the leader is stepping forward on 3 in the parallel system before going into the 4/5 of the cross that men should basically keep their chest forward. This is in contrast to most teachers I've had that say in the tango basic men should rotate their chest to the right towards the woman on 3 in a contra-body motion. I'd never walked going into the cross this way before on 3, but I must say it felt very natural. And Angi said it avoids the situation where sometimes men will rotate their chest so much that women think we're leading them into a side step. Anyway, I'm going to try it out this weekend or at least try less contra-body.

Diego and Angi leave tomorrow for NYC, so for our tango brothers and sisters out there representing on the east coast, I'd highly recommend taking classes or privates with them if you can. I haven't tangoed in NYC yet, but the word in the milongas here in the Bay Area is that you have an awesome tango community out there!

Esso!: Chicho Frúmboli & Eugenia Parrilla

Like you, I've seen countless great tango videos, but this is one of my all-time favorites. Chicho and Eugenia's musicality is amazing, their interpretation of La Poema so organic, and all of it set in this dark, sultry hall in Lubljana.

5.6 Earthquake Doesn't Impress Tangueras

Of all the joys of living in San Francisco, one of the greatest is getting to sway in our earthquakes. It's not that they happen every month, but they hit often enough that you get used to them after awhile. Just like my first girfriend (Ellen, sixth grade, Mystic, CT), my first Czech beer (Pilsner Urquell, Hotel Atrium bar, July, '92), and my first time meeting my 3-month old nephew (Caimin, Savannah, GA airport), I'll always remember the excitement of my first earthquake. It struck only two weeks after I had moved here from Prague. It was a 3.something, so pretty small, but it felt like an 8.0 because it was my first. But the last one a few months ago was a 5.6 and it hit while I was driving to a milonga for my tango fix. I was sitting at a red light when suddenly my car started to buck so much I felt like I was riding a Texas bull. I thought at first my engine was giving out, but then I realized it was an earthquake. Like any other self-respecting San Franciscan, though, I don't break for such tiny shake & bakes, so, I kept driving just like nearly everyone around me. Everyone, that is, except for one car that pulled over. I knew they must be out-of-towners and, sure enough, they had Kansas plates. Funny thing about our brothers from Kansas--they don't like it when the earth starts rocking, but they don't bat an eye at a tornado. I'll take an earthquake over a twister any day. Anyway, I made it to my milonga on time & during my first tango asked my friend if she had felt the trembler. She had, but she was paying a lot more attention to her backward ochos than some quake. You gotta love San Franciscan tangueras--they've got their priorities right.

Word.

Your Close Embrace With Victoria and Sappho

I want to take a moment between tandas to thank all of you who keep coming back to our tango Confessions. To be honest with you, I'm surprised how quickly our community is growing here. But from the emails you've sent me, it's clear that you're embracing Victoria's poems and Sappho's openness as if they're the last tango of the night.

I hear La Cumparsita* in the background, but that's ok--we'll meet again at tomorrow's milonga.

Break My Heart

I adored him because he held me in his arms as if he would love me forever. During his favourite songs he would hum them as he danced, lending his aire of musicality another dimension. And I danced with him as if he were apart of me, an extension of my heart come to life in milonga form. This was his draw to the followers, he would hold all of them as if he'd love them forever. Young or old, no matter, they all felt like reincarnations of Grace Kelly and Ginger Rogers when embraced by him. And I fell, though at the very least pride would not let me become the proverbial ton of bricks. I fell the way Rome fell, slowly and with some cajoling and a whole lot of decadence.

I met him quite randomly, as we meet everyone quite randomly at tango festivals. He liked to wink at me, sometimes before and sometimes after he cabaceo'd me to the floor, my heart pitter-patter-ing for his gracefulness. When in close embrace I would be eager for his heartbeat and when in open embrace his dark eyes would light a fire inside mine the way Vesuvius lighted Pompeii. Sometimes he would purposely seek me out when his favourite songs appeared, saying "I feel like a cheeseball singing this song into anybody else's ear." And I would tease him, replying "oh? Probably because you're trying to impress everyone else!" And we would tease each other on and off the floor, with our words, our body parts, our ganchos and boleos. In his arms, ochos were not just ochos but a divine compilation of my body and his sweetness. He was always and of the utmost, a gentleman. It's not every man who considers a woman's height, weight and style to his own and adjusts accordingly... and then escorts her back to her seat at the end of the tanda. By the time the sun was rising through the windows, my head was laid upon his shoulders (I don't do this just for anyone, you know) and something just fit somewhere in the ether.

He asked me out for brunch with his surviving friends as the time drew close. I declined. I already had plans with friends, I said. Code of honour had it that I never blow off friends after making plans. But I would like to dance with him again soon, I said. And so we did the next night. And the next night. He asked me out again but again, I already had dinner plans with friends. Somehow it happened that his friends and my friends were at the same dinner table that night. He wouldn't sit next to me however, a preference for sitting across from me, all the better to look into my eyes easily, he later confessed. We connected on so many levels and of course, ultimately the dance floor. One time he even plucked a flower off one of the tables and placed it in my hair during a tanda.

I'm not quite sure where the beginning ended and the end began, but we didn't dance anymore. It's not easy to carry on a romance at a festival when everyone is so far from reality and then to maintain that romance ongoing. At a later festival I'd try to catch his eye, watching him catch someone else's eye. I'd watch him hold someone else in an embrace that spoke of eternity, swearing I could hear him hum. But it wasn't for my ears, as the arms holding him were no longer mine.

Tango is the dance of love, passion and sensuality. Having your heart broken is the price you pay for having too much of that passion and sensuality centered on any one person at any one time. For the ladies that journey to BA in singledom, beware. The proof can be seen with redden eyes in darken corners and the sniffling in the ladies' room. Though I don't mean to intend that this happens only in BA, mine was broken in Paris. So not only was I another statistic, I was also a cliché. However, it did prepare me for BA.

And this isn't just for the ladies alone - the gentlemen of my acquaintances have had their hearts broken as well. There are so many lovely ladies with passion and charm, all waiting to melt into a desirous connection. What surprises me is that it doesn't happen more often! Yet I will be glad for my own sanity anyhow, that it doesn't for me. Not only did I lose a wonderful lover, I lost a favourite dancer! I learned my lesson. Once bitten, twice shy and all that - dancers are dancers and lovers are lovers and ne'er the twain shall meet! Or at the very least, my heart and I will tread thrice carefully.

Foreward: Some time passed, and it happened that that same gentleman caught my eye in Denver. He cabaceo'd me and I stared back. I deliberated. Should I? Shouldn't I? If I did, would it still be the same? If I didn't would it convey I'm still smarting over trifles? I deliberated long enough to make him wonder. Then I smiled and nodded towards the floor. We danced. It was fabulous, but nowhere near the time when Rome fell.

Favourites

For the experienced festival goer, an obvious pattern exists among the dancers present. That ever elusive connection of all connections is of course duly sought after, but once found, by god and all that is holy shall not asunder. And the next best thing, the great, great connection, a dancer that fits into our arms and bodies like Linus' blanket, shall too become like Linus' blanket, always with us. This is fortunate for the dancers wrapped up in each other. This is not so fortunate for those who wish to dance with either of them.

The good news is that when we see these favourites of ours, we dance and we dance until someone else peels us apart. And then later in the night we find each other to dance some more. The bad news is that we don't dance with a whole lot of people due to the Linus Blanket monopoly.

At every festival you can see this happening, certain couples remain on the dance floor tanda, after tanda, after tanda. And should you ever see them leave the floor and catch their eye, they're on their way to the restroom! Of course, I may complain here, but I have been guilty of this upon occasion. Okay, more than upon occasion. Sometimes it's just not even the best of the best connections. It could be something else, someone we just enjoy dancing with so much. Maybe it's because you adore the way they hum the music in your ears, or the way your cheek rests against theirs so perfectly.

My personal favourite is a certain gentleman, who shall go unnamed otherwise I'm going to get phone calls, text messages and emails from all over the country, saying "You!". Anyhow, this special gentleman, who is bean pole tall, makes it ever so convenient for me to lay my head against his chest and strain to feel his heartbeat. He moves me effortlessly and I feel like I'm among the clouds. I don't have to strain my neck, or decide where to put my head, for his arms wrap about me as if he would love me forever. It's the perfect head rest I tell you. I haven't always connected perfectly with him, but that head rest is perfect and it's as if I'm dancing in my dreams. And when the tanda ends, he can hear my whisper in his ear, "more please...."

So my dear friends, this is an unsolvable dilemma and I dare you to join it. It is a bit selfish to monopolise someone's time like that, but darling, it's absolutely mutual. And do keep in mind that these favourites probably live far away and can only be met and danced with at festivals. Very often we call each other and say... " meet me in _________ for the festival." So please, do understand. We do dance with other people and I think it is acceptable to ask someone in the lobby to save you a dance. Heck, sometimes I request the dance days in advance! And really, we do try to dance with other people, we make an effort to dance with our mutual friends and those we haven't seen in so long. It's just that sometimes we get caught up in the moment and that moment turns into hours. And if you can't understand, then please accept our situation. And may you find your favourites too.

Our Tango Festivals

We come from all over the globe, driving for hours and even flying for days, arriving not tired, but excited. We leave our world behind, a world at times boring, frustrating, stressful, hectic or even wonderful and blissful, along with our homework, our spouses, the office phone/fax (some of us anyways), our kids and our chores. Regardless, when we arrive we know our other lives begin. This is the moment when our minds register that the possibilities are truly endless. For the experienced festival goer, endless dancers to hold, embrace and enjoy. For the inexperienced tanguero, infinite possibilities for screwing up. But you have to learn some time! Infinite numbers of ganchos and boleos are waiting to happen in a world that befriends, embraces, engages, amuse and entertain us with utter delight.

We are not here to compete but to enjoy. We are not arriving to be the best, but to live the most out of every tango, every milonga and every waltz, to stupefy ourselves into exhaustion and drop dead from dancing. We are not dancing to be number one, but to become a better dancer for ourselves and all of our partners, so that we may live every second of every dance to the height of its nirvana.

In night clubs we may see hip hop and salsa, merengue and bachata as sex on the floor, but in Argentine tango it is not sex, but making love, It is teasing, flirting, quarreling; it is foreplay, after play and every describable meaning in terms of passion. It is what we want it to be, what the music begs to become.

And for us, who travel far and wide for this dance, it is not just a dance. We may lose half our wallets getting there and some our hearts, but gain much more than a dance. We, tangueras and tangueros, gain a whole new network, lifelong friends, even lovers, soulmates and the ultimate - that ever elusive, most perfect connection.

For those that don't tango, the world "connection" is pithy, a bit trifle and certainly passé. For those that do tango, the connection is everything. It is the way we suddenly move, together ever so perfectly in tune, in rhythm, in meldoy and by the end of the tanda, our hearts can be felt across the room, beating as one. Take that ballroom dancers! You literally can feel your partner's heartbeat - because if there is a connection to be had, not even Emily Post can stick a hair between the two of you.

And this strange dance, ever so subtle and addicting (I call it an active form of heroine), becomes more addicting the more we learn. And there is a lot to learn. For many of us we need it at least once per [insert time quantity]. For those of us that don't live in an Argentine tango mecca (you Portland, DC, Boston, Chicago, NYC, Houston fiends!), we have to get our tango fixes in once every month (if work/budget/family allows) or once every other month. For some, once a month, a week - and if you're truly a goner - once a day. Every song you hear on the radio, TV, movies is either tango-able or not worth listening to. All your friends become either tango people or those poor schmucks living half a happy life, but only because they don't know better. Your shoes aren't even exciting anymore if you can't tango in them. Don't even get me started on your wardrobe.

Yet of all these things, these wonderful qualities of tango, cannot begin to compare to the most precious of them all - the tangueros and tangueras, the people who become OUR people. We come together completely unknown, unheard of, but put ourselves, our hearts and our passion and our souls into the loving embrace of another. We move together, we share our embraces and let our bodies connect, sweet like a hug, passionate like a kiss and carefully like a friend. We dance till dusk and take naps so that we may dance till dawn. And when we can't dance anymore we drag ourselves to breakfast... with whomever, from wherever, because we just tangoed for life.

And when we have to leave, as reality rudely interrupts, we will remember, swap photos, trade phone numbers, emails and Facebook, we keep in touch here and there. And when next we tango again, it will be as if we never stopped. Truly, we didn't stop.

What Is Tango?

Tango is my inner sanctuary made manifest in the world.

A Little Tango, A Little Surgery, A Little Vals*

So, I recently went through my second excellent tango bootcamp and it came time for Christy and Darren to spend the next hour teaching us vals*. I looked around for my friend because I knew she'd be excited that her favorite dance had arrived, but I didn't see her. I felt disappointed because I knew she's usually on call, since she's a plastic surgeon. Sure enough, 90 minutes later she came strolling back in nonchalantly. I started to dance with her and she said had to step out for a bit because a hospital paged her. My friend is too modest to talk about how much she helps people, but with a little prying she finally said a man had badly cut his hand and she had just performed successful surgery on him. I don't know about you, but I don't know too many folks that perform hand surgery between tandas. You meet the most interesting people in tango...