Confessions Blog Now Has Tango Readers In 30 Countries Worldwide!

Dear Tango brothers and sisters around the world,
I'm happy to say that this little tango blog now has readers from 24 states across America and 30 countries around the world. I knew Argentine tango was a worldwide passion. But, honestly, I didn't expect that we'd have readers from 30 countries so quickly, given that this blog was only launched on December 11.

I wanted to list all of those countries below, so that we have a better idea of where our fellow tangueros are from. I'm listing them in order of number of visits since Confessions was launched.

There are a lot of obvious things below, such as most of our readers coming from the U.S., since I'm based in San Francisco. And I'm not surprised that the UK is our # 2, but I was surprised to see that readers there come not just from London, but from eight different cities throughout England and Scotland (welcome tangueros in Edinburgh and Aberdeen!). Most of our tangueros in France are in Paris, which is no surprise given how famous that city is for it's tango. And I'm always meeting the coolest Canadians that come down to SF for tango lessons or milongas, so it's good to see them at #4. Of course Buenos Aires is our Mecca for tango, but I am surprised that Argentina is # 5 because when I was in Bs As they were at milongas until 6am, so when do our brothers & sisters there have time to get online?

But the most fascinating thing to me is that we have tangueros from Israel, Qatar, and Yemen (welcome tangueros in Beersheba, Doha and Sana!).

Thank you all for helping spread the word. And thanks, too, to everyone that has posted a comment or emailed me--it's been great connecting with tangueros worldwide.

How awesome would it be if we could have a bunch of international milongas in each of our great countries below?!?:
1. United States
2. United Kingdom
3. France
4. Canada
5. Argentina
6. Turkey
7. Greece
8. Mexico
9. Brazil
10. Germany
11. Russia
12. Japan
13. Netherlands
14. Bulgaria
15. Spain
16. Chile
17. Switzerland
18. Czech Republic
19. India
20. Trinidad and Tobago
21. Costa Rica
22. Singapore
23. Malaysia
24. Croatia
25. Belgium
26. Romania
27. Israel
28. Qatar
29. Philippines
30. Yemen

Abrazos,
Mark

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.

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.