I grew an ass.

And with that came attitude.

I didn’t notice it before but I think the past few months in Buenos Aires have really been months of personal growth for me. Both in terms of my derrière and in the way I feel about myself and present myself.

In North American culture the goal seems to be to have no ass, or any curves at all for that matter. My loved ones up here seem surprised at how excited and proud I am to have something back there to sway when I walk or dance. I guess it has something to do with living in Latin America where the woman’s body is celebrated in a different way than up north. I find myself excited to shop for new additions to my wardrobe that will show off an hourglass figure. Basta with these clothes that “slim” us down, making us look more masculine and less natural. I feel more Sophia Loren than ever.

With the new culo came a boldness to the way I walk, the way I present myself. I walked into the internet cafe in Seattle today with my new Buenos Aires strut, and loud high-heeled boots that click-clacked on the floor as I made my way to my table. It is so quiet in here but I think I’m doing everything so loudly and with such spice, from the way I settle into my chair to the way I set my cup of coffee down on the table. I’m not doing anything halfway. World, I am here!

Everyone else in the room is just quiet. Staring at their computer screens, trying not to look at me. I feel a little odd not hearing anyone hiss, “che, hermosa!”… though it’s also kind of nice to be left alone. I’m probably a bit much for these reserved people. But, so be it.

I’m missing my Buenos Aires already.  I know I’ve only been there a short time but I feel like it’s my home now.  It has been blissful so far to see the people I love in Seattle, and at the same time this trip has served to make me realize just how a part of BsAs I feel now. It has me doing some interior juggling about what to do with my plans in the near future.  Ah, I’ll just chill out for now…

I know it must be hard to say goodbye to a friend as they leave for what’s supposed to be a month long vacation, only to have them write one day, saying, “I’m staying! I live here now!”. As enthusiastic I am about my change in life (which, it’s really not a change, but what I was supposed to be doing all along), I’m sure my friends in Seattle who I regularly see, while happy for me are probably wondering, “well what’s wrong with Seattle? What about us?”

That’s just the vibe I’m getting.

Well, you guys know who you are, and you need to know that I haven’t stopped loving any of you. I’d never forget you. Just because I’m in another land and feel less passionate about living in Seattle, does not negate how highly I regard our friendship. And just because I’m flourishing and fulfilling my destiny in another land, does not mean that I have stopped needing your friendship and support. I don’t only hope for friends to be there for me when I’m down, I need them when I’m happy too. So stop the pouting you guys and get ready for my upcoming visit - we’re going to have a blast!

I dug this up while going through my pictures… it’s a little collage I made of pictures I took in Pike Place Market. One of the things I love about Seattle.

I’ve been wanting to write about this for a while, and after reading Miss Tango’s post called Porteños vs. the Others, as well as Elizabeth’s post called Owning It, I’m particularly inspired.

Here in Argentina, I notice something that I rarely see “up north” - the women move their hips. Watch just about any porteña walking down the street, and while it’s not exaggerated, there is a particular sway to the hips that you don’t see in Anglo countries. Go to a milonga and you’ll see the women effortlessly disassociate their hips from their upper body. And not because they were taught to. They do it because they just do. Their hips have more freedom of movement when they dance. They move grounded, connected to the earth, and they allow their feminine bodies to move as they are naturally supposed to move. (Living proof would be in my ex’s niece, who we taught to walk and do ochos as she was curious - she has never danced Tango in her life but she instinctively knew just what to do with her hips. It was amazing. I have never seen it up north. Ochos are so much nicer if you just let your hips be!)

I was always concerned with being as straight and stiff as possible with my Tango, maybe because so many people have related it to ballet for some reason. Yet since I’ve been down here and had two different private lessons (each with a different teacher), I have been told the opposite of what I’ve been trying to do and I realize that I agree with what they are telling me.

Each teacher, coming from totally different tango backgrounds, told me the same thing - to walk like a woman and let my hips be what they are (NOT to force them to move - but just to let them be hips). Both teachers told me that they see this problem quite often with North American women - we don’t move our hips naturally. We stiffen up. We are afraid to be sexy. Afraid to be labeled as whores or criticized if we let our hips sway a little.

Javier really drove this home with me in our lesson. He made note of my curves and said that I seem to dance like I’m afraid of them. Normally I’m not, but when I dance I get a little shy. So we worked on my body confidence and on walking like the woman I am. He reminded me to be proud of my hips, proud of my curves, proud of my soft tummy, proud of my breasts and to dance like it. (Not to prance or wiggle or do salsa moves - but to be ME.) He wanted me to walk “all’Italiana” (his words)… “Channel my inner Sophia Loren?” I said. He laughed, “exactly!”

Vilma, the other teacher, said more or less the same thing, but came from the point of view of being grounded, centered, connected to the earth. She made me realize how much more comfortable it is to dance if I just allow my body to dance. Embrace fully, and let your body do what it needs to do. Being ashamed of your body or being afraid of your curves or sexuality makes the dance only half of what it could be.

Whenever I return to Seattle from a place like Italy or Argentina, I notice a huge difference in the way women move. Up “north”, they walk straight and tall, striding, careful not to let the hips move even a inch. It’s like watching boxy, sexless, suppressed robots move down the street with no hint of individuality or freedom or happiness.

When I was in high school I wanted to be a model - I got a couple of jobs but it was hard as I didn’t look like a boyish waif - I looked most definitely like a woman then. I was always told NOT to move my hips at all when I walk. I remember hearing people in the industry criticizing a particular supermodel for letting her hips sway on the runway. I quit when one agent told me that my hips were too big and that I’d have to lose weight to make them smaller - um, I was quite skinny at the time so the only way to make my hips smaller would have been to perhaps remove my hip bones entirely!

I find it interesting - it’s as if women are expected to be men or boys. It’s why I flourish when I’m down here or in Italy - I find it so free and easy to be 100% woman in the way that I want to be. Curves are celebrated. Femininity is appreciated. It’s okay to be sexy. It’s okay to move your hips.

Just some observations… Let’s let my favorite Colombian-Lebanese belly dancer Shakira take over, shall we? After all, hips don’t lie…

Gypsy souls are often misunderstood. I’ve had people say “Oh what a nice extended vacation you’re on!”

Vacation? Vacation from what?

Vacation is an escape - and I don’t feel like I am escaping. I am home. What is home? My home is myself - that’s the life of a nomad. My home is wherever I am. Right now that’s Buenos Aires. I’m working while I’m here - almost every day. If I were on vacation I wouldn’t be working. I have picked up my life and moved it to a different place for a while. I am doing the exact same thing I did in Seattle. Same job, same obnoxious alarm clock at 6 in the morning (just ask my roommates), same worries, same bills (but different place to rent), everything is the same except there is more Tango here and I am speaking Spanish on the street.

Nomadic souls aren’t on vacation when we move somewhere for a while. Believe me, I have seen to it that I have some time off while I’m here, but I insist that I am not on vacation and I’m a little tired of hearing it. I’m too productive (work-wise) to be on vacation. Just because I’m freelance doesn’t mean my job is easy or stress free. And just because I’m in a beautiful place and not in the United States doesn’t mean I’m on vacation. And just because I’m freelance and I travel doesn’t mean I have a lot of money. If that were the case I wouldn’t be living in Once, would I?

Someday people will understand us nomads. I have faith.
One thing I know for sure is that I am happier than ever.

Now, back to that translation…

Why is it that younger dancers in Buenos Aires don’t invite me to dance very much?  They have no problem asking my friend, who is almost my same age, quite slender, a little more casual in dress, and I think younger looking.  But they seem to avoid me like the plague.  Not all of them, of course - but it does seem to be a trend.  I also notice that the men I dance with are usually older than I am.  Sometimes just 5 years older, sometimes a few decades older.  Men.

So what are the young guys afraid of?  Am I too milonguera for them?  Too dressed up?  Too curvy?  Can they not handle a woman?  Or maybe they just haven’t really thought to invite me.  Who knows.

I never really have problems getting dances at milongas so I don’t necessarily feel pain at not dancing with the younger guys, but I do find it very interesting in general and I wanted to put it out there to see what you all might have to say.

I can’t change who I am, I’ll always stand tall and my body will always be the way it is, and I’ll always wear make-up and dress up for Tango.  It’s what I like to do.  And I celebrate the fact that men with life experience and lots of stories enjoy having me in their arms.

You know how a couple can be deeply in love, and eventually they have a fight - but since their love runs deep and true, they are able allow the situation to make their relationship that much stronger and deeper? Well that’s how I feel about Buenos Aires today.

No city is without its frustrations and inconveniences. It’s part of the reality of living anywhere. I learned about Telecom the hard way here last week, after sitting on hold for three hours just to get an internet password that I didn’t actually need. And lately I have had to contend with the owner of this house and his friends and relatives thinking they can just come in whenever they want and stay as long as they want. Never mind that we might all be sleeping or I might be running from the shower to my bedroom half naked, or that we might be getting ready to entertain guests. I had to tell my guests not to come over yesterday, because the owner showed up, made a mess, and decided to stick around for a few hours to paint. Paint! Without any warning to us. We eventually talked him into leaving. We all agreed that he would come back Thursday and paint to his heart’s content.

The best part is the owner’s brother-in-law who, while a really nice person who has helped me immensely with some things recently, comes over and orders food. I’m talking entire meals. He shows up, picks up the phone and orders lunch or dinner - for himself - and then sits at our table and eats. Then he hangs around while we go about our business. He usually picks up my French roommate’s guitar and starts playing it. I think he likes the place. He just doesn’t leave. And when he does leave the house smells like whatever he ate.

For the record I’ve decided I can’t live like this and I’m changing apartments. While I’ve been told that it’s normal for owners to come to their homes as they please to fix something here and there, I am inclined to think that this particular family is a little overboard. I think they just really like this house and want to be in it. And I also think they are odd.

So naturally yesterday I was mad and thinking, “Why am I here?!”

Then I met up with Ale and Pedro, my 72-year old friend who was to give a lesson in milonga con traspie to TP. The warmth in Pedro’s eyes when I showed up, made me fall in love with this city all over again. I served as the lovely assistant for the lesson, and had a few lovely dances with Pedro. Afterwards we ate beautiful paella that made me reminisce about Valencia, and then we all went to Canning, where Color Tango was playing and Jorge Dispari and La Turca were performing. It made me feel better.

This morning I woke up and made my way to the usual panederia to pick up the usual medialunas (it’s our house tradition). The neighborhood I live in is not beautiful at all. I’m in Once. But this morning I stepped out of my building and on to the street, which is being worked on and therefore has no cars. The sidewalks were bustling with people, and I could hear the noises the workers were making with their machinery as they repaired the road. Today there was a particular… life on the street and in the air around me. The woman who helps me at the panederia is always nice, but she was particularly smiling and friendly this morning.

Afterwards, I approached the door to my building to see a woman peaking inside. When I was next to her, she looked at me and said, “Do you live here?” “Yes,” I said. Her eyes beamed. “I was born here. I was born in this building, in apartment number 24, sixty years ago. It hasn’t changed! The building is so beautiful.” I loved hearing that. We wished each other good day and she went on her way and I went inside to make some coffee and begin work. I realized that my Spanish flowed this morning. (Yay!)

I realized this afternoon as I finished and turned in a translation, that I don’t know how I can possibly leave this city. I love it so much. I want to be with this city through thick and thin. My heart is full. Of course, I’ll go to Seattle and then I’ll move to Italy, but… I’m going to make this city a part of my life. Tickets between Rome and Buenos Aires are not hard to come by…

I was going to have a second lesson with Javier and Andrea because I enjoyed them so much as people, and I felt like I got something out of the previous lesson, but I’ve decided to cancel it.

Not only is it quite a lot of money for me, but last week’s lesson got me stressing out about my embrace a little bit, and after getting a good lecture from an old milonguero friend, Pedro, about just being myself and being happy with my dancing the way it is, I realized that I do like my embrace the way it is, and I do like my dancing the way it is.

I’ve already found Tina. I just want to dance Tina. And I like my embrace - I meet the right guy on the dance floor and it fits - it just works. The embrace that Javier shared with me doesn’t really work with most of the men I love to dance with. It has made it much easier to dance with certain men I know in milongas, and I am grateful for that, but really, I like the way I embrace in general. I’m gonna be Tina.  Which is what I think Javier was trying to get at in the lesson, even if he did give me something different to work with.  Same message.

I don’t want to “improve” or be “better” or “good” at Tango. I want to be “Tina” at Tango. It’s not about competition, or improvement or progress - it’s about expressing yourself. I think I express myself just fine. Will I want a lesson in the future? Maybe - I’m not an absolutist, and Julio and Corina will be in Seattle in July while I am briefly there which is tough to say no to ;-). For now I’m going to really enjoy just being Tina in the dance, and I’m going to enjoy loving Tango.

I should note, to Javier’s credit, that the lesson was more centered around my attitude and self-confidence (read: body confidence) in the dance than it was about technique, and he too said that he like to see more Tina in the dance. Then again, he doesn’t know me the way the guys in the milongas do. We’ve never danced together socially. And I was also nervous to dance with Javier. I already am Tina in the dance. As I said, maybe that’s what he wanted me to realize in the lesson - that I’ve just got to be myself.

I’m going to recommend them as teachers to anyone who is curious. They really are great. I’m just at a time in my life where lessons kind of mess up my dancing. That’s because of where I am emotionally, mentally, spiritually, etc. I’m going through a natural evolution. My life experience is what affects my Tango right now.

It dawned on me last night that I’m getting to know this city more intimately. I’m used to it. It feels natural to be here. I will have spent three months here this time around. I am so grateful for that. It’s nice to get a routine going.

Now that I finally have internet en mi casa, I can work again. I woke up early today, went to the confiteria across the street for some medialunas, came back to make myself coffee, and now I am sitting here in the kitchen, waiting for some e-mails from clients.

My roommates are still asleep and probably think I’m “mad” for being up like this. But it’s nice. I have proven to myself that I can take my work around the world, that I can be the nomadic chica that I am and still be able to support myself doing something I love. If you just think outside the box and commit, things happen. They really do.

Those pictures of the house that I posted yesterday, by the way, are not of just our house. Those are mostly of the courtyard and corridor of the building. I think there are 50 units in the building. Half of them are on the ground floor (like mine). We really lucked out with this place. I lucked out.

All in all, I’m happy here. It’s wonderful to speak in another language when I have the confidence to do so.  Life here is not without its less than graceful realities, but that is all part of the experience. It’s all part of what makes us grow. I appreciate my experience here every day.

What an exciting year this is going to be. Buenos Aires, a summer in Seattle, and then Italy. Per sempre.

Here I am! It’s been a great week, as my friend from Le Chemin du Tango has been assisting me in conquering the milongas of Buenos Aires. We’ve gone to Canning last Monday (loved it), Nino Bien last Thursday, La Baldosa with her Italian friend to see Julio and Corina perform on Friday, and that same night we continued to La Viruta, which I ended up really, really liking, particularly because I got to dance Chacarera and also because it has “The Ghost” in a very unexpected way, Maipu 444 on Saturday followed by a smaller milonga somewhere in San Telmo. Sunday I was at Porteño y Bailarin with other friends.

I exhausted myself. I could never live like that long-term, but when a cool chica is in town, it means we get to be each other’s company at milongas and become friends, and that is something to be savored. So bring on the sore feet!

I finally finished the monster project. I’m taking the rest of the week off with no work.

And the BIG news is…

I have changed my ticket and will remain in Buenos Aires until April 26th. Yup, I’m staying a bit longer. I have found a room in a beautiful home and I will move in this Friday.

My Italy ticket (I was supposed to go to Italy in April), will be pushed back a few months so I can have a Seattle summer (Seattle summers are very special), and then in September I want to MOVE back to Italy, like I was supposed to do in the first place. !! It will be such a luxury to work in the same time zone as my clients.

So that’s me, the jet-setting gypsy soul who lives between countries.