Hola Tanguero’s

Sorry about last month I missed the deadline I got carried away with all the happenings in January. In San Antonio we had Carlos Canedo from New York come in again for a workshop and if you missed him rumor has it he will make a reappearance in April. Most of the students that attended the often and quickly. In February The Austin Tango community hosted Javier Rochwarger a tango Instructor out of Argentina and he gave a weekend class. I did not attend any of the workshops but the word on the tango floor the night of the milonga was positive in regards to his teaching. The weekend of February 9-11 there were three milongas in Austin two were related to the Javier Rochwarger workshop and one was the monthly milonga at the Tazza Fresca café. So if you took classes there were plenty of dance opportunities to practice whatever you might have learned at the workshop or, if your like me, you discovered that maybe you did not get the lead part right. Anyway there was plenty of dancing.

Dancers navigate the dance floor at El Callejon restaurant. Photo by Angela Avila.
Back home in San Antonio one of our regular Monday night tango spots, Circa 1900, closed down temporarily for remodeling in an effort to make it a better place for dinning and dancing, or so we hope. Anyway, this led to the establishment of another tango prospect at the El Callejon Mexican Restaurant, address 13259 Blanco road. I think this used to be a seafood restaurant a few years ago and a tango venue for a short time, so it seems to me I have seen restaurants come and I have seen them go but, tango is here to stay. One of our fellow tangueros, Manuel Lobo, has shifted from giving classes at Circa 1900 to the El Callejon Restaurant therefore if you were taking instruction from Manuel and wondered where he went now you know where to find him. Kudos goes to Manuel who has been diligent and persevering in his commitment to the tango community in an exhaustive effort to expand and improve our tango.

Tangueros until next time keep up your hard work and continue having a good time dancing the dance of sensuality and passion known as tango.

Hasta Luego, 

Note  from  the  Editor . . .

http://www.arzanohumorciak.
com/corti_2006/perdizione.html

Looking forward to seeing all our Houston friends March 17^th for Orlando’s classes… There are 2 milongas in Houston, “Tengo Tango” on Friday night, (Té House of Tea, 1927 Fairview St.) no cover, very nice milonga, empanadas, mate, BYOB and lot of tangueros and tango, and there is another one after the Seminar on Saturday night (starts at 9pm, at their new location, Tango Cafe. 3217 Mercer) $ 10 cover, BYOB and free refreshments.

Enjoy life and the dance, 

                           B

Photo courtesy Khawaja A. Ghouse

“IL PORTICI” dale Piazza “Augusto Imperatore” is another excellent place to dance in The Eternal City. Organized by “Il signore” Cesare Magrini, an excellent tanguero and one of the local pioneers of El Tango in Rome, this milonga got together there every week all the best sellers of the local tango. Cesare Magrini, by the way, was responsible for my personal enrollment to “Tango

 News” magazine while I was dancing in “Il Giardino del Tango” one of those nice and captivating Roman nights years back ago that I still treasured in my tango memories because a couple of good and loved milongueros were part of the history, when I was leaving the milonga at 3 o’ clock or 3:30 in the morning and el “flaco” Danny Garcia and the unforgettable Carlos Gavito were entering the place just like if it was the beginning of the night. Even when I refused several times to reenter the place and weather, I liked or not, they made me go around and get back to the milonga with them to have a drink… that drink lasted until 7 o’clock in the morning! “Tango News” news letter was organized by Cesare Magrini with a great deal of success to list all tango events in Rome and is now the obligated weekly consultation guide for every tanguero in Europe and Rome, “la piu grande informazione sul tango in Italia” like Cesare use to said.. Under the slogan of: -“una ricerca sulla comunicazzione attraverso la danza prendendo come base il Tango Argentino” (an investigation about communications through the dance based in Tango Argentino) Cesare has been more than instrumental (besides organizing “Il Portici” during several years) in the organization of a strong tango community spreading the messages out for everybody to know where and when Tango was taking place in Rome.
Switching from 4 or 5 hours work-shops during the evenings in different places and milongas to my favorite places where to dance during the nights my days and nights in Rome were running fast! Tonight was my turn and time to visit a fine place called “GYM TONIC” in Via Batteli 6. You have to take the Metro “B” to San Paolo at the Ponte Marconi Area. Once you got there you will find another one of those traditional tango places that immediately come to your mind when you need to recommend a milonga or decide yourself where to dance in Rome. So even when it was a little far away I took the metro after my regular class and went to “Gym Tonic” because I did not wanted to live Rome without visiting and say hello to Felix Picherna, I knew that this was one of his favorites places to play tangos. Felix Picherna “Il primero musicalizadore dil Mundo” like all tangueros romanos like to refer when they speak about this Argentinean guy, used to be one of the best tango DJ in Buenos Aires in the late 90’s. He used to DJ in Almagro, La Ideal and mostly in all of the most popular milongas of the Tango’s Capital when he decided to emigrate to Rome. Tango was growing more than fast in Europe at that time and Felix become, in a very short time with a lot of effort and hard work, in the most expensive and most famous milongas DJ or “musicalizadore” of Rome, all Italy… and Europe!.
When you are happy all days are too short and run too fast! All this previous places are very traditional, well known and very popular milongas in Rome. They had been around successfully for several years however, there is one, but only one milonga that had proudly won the unique title of “Milonga Storica di la Capitale” (Historic milonga of the Capital) and I wanted to spend there my last night in Italy! “ALPEHUS DI ROMA” at Via dal Comercio has been open for 8 years! With this 8 (eight) long years playing tangos and organizing milongas “Alpehus” was them and it is still today the obligated place of reunion for the Roman tangueros to dance on Sundays. Alberto Valente, a real nice and dedicated tanguero, commands there his organization under the name of “El Firulete” and he has been able to manage during all this time with a lot of success, the first and oldest milonga in the Cesar’s Capital.
Rome is not just one of the most beautiful cities in the World ... it is the most beautiful One! Every building, street, alley and sidewalk here is authentic and thousands of years old, nothing had been destroyed or modernized in the name of progress, even a little stone that you may kick in the middle of an alley could have been trough there by Cesar or Cleopatra or Marco Antonio or any other of those famous guys from the Roman Empire. They are conservative, authentic and very passionate and when Romans love something they love it with all their hart, Tango has been adopted here with love and passion, just like Italians do, and it has become today part of the City of Cesar’s life!     Arivederchi Roma! 

OTHER PLACES WHERE TO DANCE TANGO IN ROME:

“TANGOFFICINA” used to be “Tango polis” with milongas “tutti le giorni” (Every day). Via Cupa 5, Roma. To dance or just talk before a hot tea or chocolate.

“LA MAGLIOLINA”,Via Vencivenza 1, Piazza Augusto Imperatore (Monday)

‘LA MARIPOSITA” Cafe “Palombini” in la Villa Borghesse largo Marcelo Mastroiani #1, Di frente “Via Veneto” (If you sow the film “La Dolce vita” you should remember Via Veneto) 

When she was only fourteen years old, she was sent abroad to represent her country for the international dance competition. It was already a very high achievement county for that time and her age! Then she traveled several times around the world, won many different competitions, and finally became a judge herself. She was only eighteen when with her dance partner and the first husband she escaped to Germany during the Russian invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1968. Then they moved to Canada to his parents. They met and became friends with Ive Simard in a dance studio in Montreal, when Ludmila was twenty.
There was an undeniable attraction between Ludmila and Ive, which ten years later brought them to their long lasting marriage and dance partnerships. Once she mentioned, “Ive was, without a doubt, the love of my life.” Both were very skilled dancers, with all sensuality and deep understanding of this incredible and challenging dance. They performed around the world and on the different cruise lines for eight years. Finally, she grew tired from all the uncertainty and uncomfortable rambling, gipsy like life. In 1992, they were invited to judge a competition in San Diego, and decided to stay in that beautiful city. Soon after, they opened a small Tango studio in the home of an acquaintance, starting with several people. It was the beginning of El Mundo del Tango. Ludmila’s energy and Ive’s creativity were driving the studio. They created the first Tango syllabuses and put them on several videos.
Time passed. Some wounds healed, others left deep scars on Ludmila’s heart. However, all straggles and obstacles made her even stronger. Now she lives independently, blessed with her new friends and students. She is teaching Tango, as a means to release some bad energy and seek fresh energy for a new life when some people would think that life is over. Great Tango Spirit helps one to keep going.

Natasha's apartment is airy, light-filled and cheerful. Good copies of impressionist paintings hang from the walls. Yellow sunlight filters through a white lace curtain hung over a large window overlooking Park Montsouris. Old yellow and green buses, post war relics held dear by the Parisiens, chug up and down the wide, tree-lined avenue of Boulevard Jordan. Strollers, navigating the Park's walkways, bathe appreciatively in the warm afternoon sunlight. A newspaper vendor leans precariously from behind the counter of his emperor's-crown kiosk and passes a few euros in change to a customer. Street sweepers wearing blue smocks sweep their stiff, straw brooms across the damp sidewalk. A short, stout woman dressed in black and wearing her dark hair in a bun at the back of her head polishes apples beside her red-roofed, spoke-wheeled pushcart.

In front of the window overlooking the park, Natasha has set a table, covered with a white linen tablecloth and folded white napkins Polished, long pronged forks; knifes with engraved handles; gleaming gold-rimmed dinnerware and a vast assortment of dishes filled with pickles, artichokes, spicy mixtures of beans and beets and two baguettes of fragrant, fresh country bread are set out to please the eye and waken the appetite. In the center of the table, beside a cut crystal vase containing green-stemmed roses, a bottle of champagne stands upright in a silver bucket filled with ice. Next to the ice bucket, two cut crystal glasses sparkle under an errant shaft of yellow sunlight shinning through a slit in the lace curtains.

Natasha picks up the two crystal glasses. She draws the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket, wraps a napkin around it, fills each glass and hands me one of them. She places her glass next to mine and with a strong, purposeful movement, brings our glasses together. CLINK! "Bon voyage, Robert. But I wish you didn't have to go away. Even for a week. Can't you settle your business with your New York publisher over the phone? It's not too late to change your mind. Paris is so beautiful in September. The flowers in The Luxembourg Gardens are in bloom. The trees are green, and, beneath them, children sail their little boats across the Luxembourg fountain. But I suppose New York in September is a beautiful place too. Who will dance the tango with me? You know, Alfredo has been looking for another partner. What should I tell him? That Robert has deserted me for his red headed publisher who sits at her desk on the 98th floor of the World Trade Center? While I sit here in Paris, dreaming of tango nights and avoiding the stares from those good-looking guys at the Tango Bar?"

Alfraedo, tango sorcerer and archetypal Latin lover, has had his eye on Natasha ever since we started coming to The Tango Bar. Like most women, Natasha is fascinated by Alfraedo, the bartender, manager, and professor de tango who rules the salle de tango from his throne behind the mirrored bar. Like so many butterflies, women fall easy prey to the smooth, silk strands of his tango machismo. They love the insouciant glance from the corners of his heavy-lidded black eyes. When the beat of the tango rises in his blood and the black curtains of his eyes meet the gaze of smiling, bright eyed woman standing before him, the soft protective shells of their libido crumble, exposing a delicious nectar that flows from the hearts of young women in love. I know Natasha's playing the game of 'jealous lover'. It's a game that's familiar to just about every guy who has ever been in love.

And if you're not jealous, your girl thinks maybe you don’t love her. She may even give an eye to some other guy to check you out. This is when jalousie turns to anger, which must mean he really loves her. Then there’s the slow downhill slide of affection, a decent from that initial blast of heat when the furnace door is first opened, when we discover the inevitable flaws in the person we love, when we find out the person we sold our soul to is neither devil nor saint but just an ordinary person like ourselves.

When Natasha and I first started messing around in the sack, she told me…"I’ve never had an orgasm, you know. I’ve never menstruated either. Do you think there’s something wrong with me? Do you think I should I see a doctor?" I cornered an American friend who’s doing a degree in medicine at La Faculté de Medicin. He’s a bright guy, but there’s been such a backlog of students trying to get into med school in the states, he decided to apply at The University of Paris med school, and they took him…for free. He tells me it isn’t unusual for women athletes…I guess ballet dancers fall into that category…to undergo sustained periods of delayed menstrual function. "It shouldn’t be a problem," he says. "Well, what about the orgasm thing?" I ask him. "I’m afraid you’ve got me there," he says, "it could be any number of things…physiological, psychological, stress or maybe some kind of social or religious hang-up. So far, orgasm 101 is not part of the curriculum at the Fac." My mind goes off in a direction I know it shouldn’t, but male egoism is just too tough a curse to cast off lightly; I ask the Doc-to-be…"do you think it might be she hasn’t known the right kind of guy?" He looks at me as though he already knows the answer, but he wants to be kind. "Could be," he says.

Despite her inability to achieve orgasm, Natasha is a flaming Molotov cocktail in the sack, with an inexhaustible reservoir of combustibles that feeds her blowtorch sexual appetite. She comes within a ladybug’s breath of the big ‘O’ and then hangs suspended on the edge, yipe yipe yipping, for hours, like a cocker spaniel in heat, until I finally have to climb out from under her and limp to the john. Then she cuddles up with her back pressed against me and lets me doze for a few minutes before she’s at me again. Jesus Christ, I tell myself, I’ve got to find some way to get her off, or else she’s going to kill me.

I see whirling comets with fiery tails; and neutron stars, overweight from voracious quark diets, struggling with principles of uncertainty before being sucked up by time mangling gravity. I see eight-ball black holes at the center of galloping galaxies, colliding like racked-up billiard balls…all ruled by chance, the master billiard player. And on an infinitely small speck of blue dust fluttering aimlessly on the cosmic wind, we have our own game of billiards….whirling about in our own personal, chaotic orbits. And at the center of my orbit is a woman named Natasha. What could be more enviable? Everything else is unimportant, except Time, the universal equalizer.

Time! What is it, really? The fourth dimension? But what the hell is that? You can’t see it. They say it flows around us like a stream, where life is a dream, and we just row row row our boats merrily down it. But where’s it taking us? And where’s the source? And do we ever get to row upstream? Like the singularity floating in the vortex of a black hole, Time rides a bridge across veiled infinity, and no one has yet glimpsed beyond that veil. No one. Except for me, when I hold Natasha in my arms on the tango dance floor