There will never be a step, sequence, or trick in tango that will come close to matching the power of the embrace. -Ney Melo

(photo taken by Helen Ahn a couple of months ago while we were dancing in Peru 571. Altered by me on mi computadora)

This is a cafe I stumbled upon a while back while wandering through Palermo Viejo with my friend M on her last day in town. We were immediately taken by not only the details in the beautiful facade of the building and the gorgeous iron over the windows, but also the name of the place - El Ultimo Beso (The Last Kiss, L’Ultimo Bacio) - as well as the cute display in the window. This was a place we had to try. Upon entering, we found the place had a romantic, chic energy and a brightly lit tea room that was separate from the actual restaurant area. We sat ourselves by a window decorated with little hanging cards, each of them containing an adorable quote on the subject of besos, kisses. The presentation of my coffee and her tea was lovely. This was a totally enjoyable experience and I would love to come back here with girlfriends to sample from their impressive list of teas.

It can be found at Nicaragua 4880. Website here.

Following in the steps of people like Michelle over at Bleeding Espresso as well as Tango Baby, I thought I’d start posting a “Love Thursday” entry every week.

Here is the first one.

How could I not choose this picture to represent love? And furthermore, how can one not love this cute baby? (That’s Isabella Azul, by the way, with me, Tìa Tina, cuddling close by…)

Photographed by Isa’s mommy, Miss Tango.

Once upon a time, the Princess of Perugia flew all the way to Argentina to be with her love, the handsome Prince of Buenos Aires. They had been apart for a couple of months because they each had their respective kingdoms to tend to. The Princess had convinced her friends to take care of Perugia for her while she went away. It was difficult for her to leave all that she loved behind, but she knew it was for a good cause and she knew it wasn’t forever. She would always be a part of her kingdom, no matter where in the world she was.

In Buenos Aires they were very happy to see each other, and the Prince took her to see various parts of his kingdom. There were royal balls every night, only here they were called milongas. The Princess was fascinated by her experience in South America and they were glad to be together again.

The only thing was, the Princess felt a little strange having to depend on someone to take her everywhere. She was a Princess of independence, accustomed to doing things alone. While she was happy to be with him again, she felt that there was something missing. She found herself sitting around a few times, bored, wanting to do something, waiting for him, though he had matters to tend to in his kingdom.  This caused some stress.

The Princess reached out to her royal friends for any advice or encouragement, and they were happy to help her. She was showered with love and inspiration, and encouraged to get a map and enjoy Buenos Aires for herself. Well, alright. One day, the Prince was particularly distracted because he had to finalize some travel arrangements and such, and the Princess was feeling particularly restless because it was a sunny day and also she needed to buy a textbook (so she could speak the language of his kingdom), so she said, “My dear sweet prince, if you need to focus on this, I really don’t mind going by myself to buy the text book. It’s a nice day and I could use a walk.”

He looked at her, thought for a minute, and said, “Are you sure you’d be okay alone out there?” “Yes of course, mi amor. If you can show me where the libreria (bookstore) is on a map and lend me a cell phone, I think I’ll be fine.” He took out a map and outlined the route she would need to take. He lent her his parents’ cell phone, walked her to the door, and gave her a big hug. “You’ll be okay?” he asked again. “Yes. This is fun!”

The Princess went on her merry little way down the street and enjoyed the sunshine on her shoulders. She felt fresh, and was glad to have an hour or so to herself. Men would pass by in cars and honk at her, just like in Italy. She took in the sights and sounds and smells around her. Spanish words floated past her ears; a woman with wavy, long hair stopped at the corner next to her where they waited for the light to turn green; motorcycles revved up their engines loudly before taking off.

Finally, she found the bookstore, purchased her book, Voces del Sur (intermediate level), and made her way back towards the Prince’s castle. She passed by a Heladeria (Spanish for Gelateria), and looked inside at all the different beautiful flavors.

She contemplated waiting until she got home so she could invite her Prince for gelato, but then changed her mind; “I think I want to do something for myself today. Just for myself,” she thought. She went inside, ordered a nice big cone with lemon and raspberry sorbet, and ate the whole thing up - with a smile - while she walked the rest of the way home. The male inhabitants of Buenos Aires were rather pleasantly surprised to see a tall Princess, dressed in red, with wavy honey-blonde hair walking down the street devouring such a giant gelato. This made the Princess laugh.

When she got home, the Prince came to the door to let her in. Upon seeing the joy and satisfaction on her face, his eyes lit up with love. They walked inside together, hand in hand, and proceeded to make plans for a fun afternoon.

The Beginning.

It’s very, very different for me to be here.

In Italy, I on my own, spoke the language fluently, had my own friends, my own schedule. I was independent.

In Argentina, I don’t have any of that. It can be challenging for both me and Mi Amor. He’s from here, has has his childhood friends, family, cell phone, schedule, and of course he speaks the language. On top of that now, he has me, depending on him since I don’t know the city very well, and my Spanish is limited. I don’t have a schedule or childhood friends, and feel a little timid about just getting out there by myself. Everything I do, I do with him because the dynamic feels like I need him there in order to be able to do stuff. Which is surprising since I’ve always been a lone traveler. I’ve done Israel alone, so you think I could do Buenos Aires on my own. But it’s different, as he is a huge part of why I came here. (Tango being the other huge reason).

It’s just the way it is - he’s already been here a few months and isn’t on a tourist schedule, whereas I am, so it’s a little hard for the two of us to make our desires coincide (he wants to relax with his family and he has to arrange all kinds of things from here for his graduate schooling in Seattle while I want to see everything there is to see and take a million pictures and try on lots of tango shoes). Normally in this case I’d just go do something fun on my own and meet up with him later, but at this point in my life that’s hard. I’ve just spent the past half year adapting to life in Italy, and now all of a sudden I’m in South America. It’s hard for me to get totally motivated to get out there, because I’m trying to take in what I’ve just done.

My goal this week is to go do something by myself… the way Tina would.

“I´d like to check in my bags… I´m going to Buenos Aires.¨ It felt weird to say those words at the check-in counter, but I said them. When she handed me my boarding pass I started to cry with excitement. Fast forward past a boring plane ride…

Mi Amor meets me at the airport and takes me to a hotel in San Telmo, where we´re basing ourselves for two days while we look at a couple of apartments to rent. I am immediately taken by the heat of the city…it´s really summer…

We settle into a table in the main plaza in San Telmo (what´s it called?), to sip beer and share our peanuts with some very determined pigeons. I look around me as we walk around, marveling at the architecture that kind of reminds me of our visit to Valencia, Spain. There is a spirit of creation, art, originality in the air.

I smell a lot of things… the sun, people´s sunscreen, food, car fumes… I hear a few different languages around me, and Mi Amor is urging me to speak some Spanish with him. We walk all the way to his parent´s house in Congreso and I´m a little nervous because my Spanish level is that of a three-year-old, and probably not even that.

His mother is loving and seems very Italian…she´s making pasta by hand for our lunch. His father is gregarious and funny. His two nieces are there, both teenagers, and one of them wants to be an English professor. I stumble through our conversation, and though I am embarrassed they are patient with me and encourage me positively when I think of the right words in Spanish. This is exhausting.

We eat….and eat…. and eat. I have been given proof that the helado in Argentina is perhaps the best ice cream in the world, or at least right on par with Italy´s gelato. It´s the same Italian recipe, but the quality of the milk gives it a certain…something that makes me close my eyes with every taste.

After a two-hour nap (jetlag), we take a look at one of the apartments which is nice except for the fact that there are two beds we´d have to push together. We decide there are better apartments out there for us, though the owner is incredibly sweet.

As we walk, I notice the cartoneros, people who go through the garbage, sorting out the paper from the garbage… I believe they get a (very) small compensation for this. This started around the time of the crisis, in 2001… they come from the outskirts of Buenos Aires to do this, every evening. It makes me feel sad. I wonder how they must feel about this. Are they sad? Maybe, maybe not. It’s a way to survive…sometimes you just do what you have to do and don´t think much on it. I don´t know a lot about this city or its history and I plan on learning more before writing any more about this. Comments are naturally welcome.

At about 9:00pm, Mi Amor takes me back to the fun-filled plaza where there are people selling jewelry, playing music, drinking, walking… There is a vibrant feeling in the air, San Telmo is waking up. I´m taken aback by the spirit of this neighborhood and I don´t know why but I begin to weep. I am so happy that I am here. We have a glass of white wine in a balcony above the plaza before continuing on to eat a very carniverous dinner…

My internet connection is limited, and I must rush now…

… more to come…

Last week I was taking a walk with some friends in Florence, and wondering if I was doing the right thing by going to Buenos Aires for a month. I thought outloud, “I hope I’m on the right path…” and as soon as I said it, I looked up and realized we were walking past an Argentine restaurant. I looked to my right, across the street, and saw an advertisement for a Tango show. Minutes later we were in a cocktail lounge and Tango music was playing for whatever reason. Okay Universe, got it. Thanks for the reminder.

I’ve been in Seattle for a couple of days now and I leave this Wednesday for Buenos Aires. I’m really missing Italy a lot already. It’s my home, my life. But my instincts are telling me that I’m going to be okay. I will always be a part of Italy, and Italy will always be a part of me.

My thinking is that I’m going to live part-time in Seattle, part-time in Italy, and thanks to mi amor being from BsAs, part-time there too. I’m getting the best of three worlds. And a great guy. How many people are fortunate enough to recognize blessings like that when they see them?

Since I’ll be in Buenos Aires for over a month, I was googling around such topics as “living in Buenos Aires”, etc., to get some various perspectives on the city since I’m not going as a usual tourist. I mean of course I’ll do some touristy things, but for the most part I’m going there to dance, to be with mi amor, to get to know his family better (probably will see them every day), to meet some nice people, to learn Spanish, to get to know the culture of the city in which mi amor was born. Understanding his hometown and his culture is very, very important for our relationship (just as it was important to me that he saw “Tina in Italy” as well as “Tina in Seattle”.) It’s going to be different for me to see him in this environment - to see us in this environment. So I don’t consider myself the usual tourist.

Anyway, I was rather frustrated with my google search results (I was hoping to find informative sites, personal stories, etc…). All I could find were sensational, materialistic articles about how you too can live large in Buenos Aires. Come down to BsAs with your US dollars and live like a king - or as I see it, benefit from their economic situation without bothering to learn Spanish or even try to assimilate into the local culture. It’s okay if you’re into that sort of thing, but it really got me upset that more people don’t move to a city because they are curious about it, or because they love it, or to improve their language skills.

And this is why I choose to read blogs written by expats who are taking it day by day as they discover and re-discover the environment, the culture, the people, the language, etc., of their new home. So far I just have Tangospam (la vida con Deby) and Tango in Her Eyes on my blogroll, but I’m sure that list will grow… (UPDATE: just added a couple more!)

Maybe the next google search will be “living in Buenos Aires BLOG”.

Funny what happens when you listen to your heart. My heart took me here, to Italy where I’m currently living. And now that I’ve established myself here, my heart turned right around and decided it should take me to Buenos Aires for a while instead. That’s fine. I’ve been dancing tango for four years now and I always felt guilty when people would ask me “Have you been to Buenos Aires yet?” and I said, head down, “no…”

So yesterday while visiting a friend up in Firenze, being the language-obsessed individual that I am, I bought three books: an Italian-to-Spanish dictionary, a Spanish grammar book (for Italians), and a book that I’m already in love with, “Buenos Aires, Tango a Parte” which is an Italian “guide” to Buenos Aires. It’s not a tourist book at all. It’s a beautifully written book with stories and secrets and history and, sure, a few hot tips. You could call it a travel book dedicated to what would bring pleasure to an Italian traveler.

Why all the Italian stuff? Well, apart from it being my second language, living in Italy I don’t have much else to choose from. Also, I’ve tried studying Spanish from an English-speakers point of view and it bored the heck out of me because I’m already well-versed in Latin-rooted languages. So I find that I have a much better time approaching it from an Italian point of view. One book I really want to get, is another one in Italian, about how to avoid the common mistakes and false friends that Italians tend to encounter when learning Spanish. My Spanish tutor will be mi amor, who is already down there visiting his family and waiting for me to get there. He’s making it his mission to condition my Spanish to be Argentine, so I’m already finding myself using “vos” instead of “tu” when trying to conjugate verbs.  (Did I mention that conjugating verbs is one of my favorite pasttimes?  Really.  It is.)

I really need to learn some Spanish since his family speaks no English, and I want to communicate with them, naturally. I’ve already spoken with his mother on the phone, and to be honest it was a lot of fun and it went really well. It was very short, but I mustered up what Spanish I knew, peppered it with Italian, and she went with it, and came across as a very sweet person. I’m excited to meet her. I’m slightly nervous as apparently several his relatives are very curious about who I am.

I’m excited and ready to get down to Buenos Aires. I find the tango scene here in Perugia is just not enough for me, as it is very small and there aren’t very many milongueros. That doesn’t mean I don’t love dancing here - I do very much, and these people have all become my friends. (And can I just say that on Wednesday night my footwork just totally rocked? Meow!) But, it’s just not the same as when I lived in Seattle. Seattle has a larger tango community for one thing, more milongueros, and an Argentine restaurant at which I have been known to perform at times (filling in for another girl). Anyway, I’m ready for my dancing to improve. I’m ready to have a summer. I’m ready to be with the man I love. I’m ready to eat very well at his mother’s house. I’m ready. Buenos Aires, here I come!