I realized that all my talk of “Le Notti Bianche del Tango” was in Italian, and I never mentioned it here for you folks who speak English and read my blog.  In August, Puglia is home to about a zillion different tango “vacations”.  For those of us who live here, it’s great because we get more milongas.  But it is rather tiring after awhile to hear of yet another group from somewhere else hosting a weeklong festival somewhere along one of our coasts.  That said, I don’t mind because all summer we’ve had wonderful dancers stopping by our own milongas.

La Citta’ del Tempo, the association in Lecce that hosts the milonga where I’ve been DJing once in a while, Milonga Presidencial (named so as it takes place in Hotel President), hosted its annual Notti Bianche del Tango.  Traditionally, a notte bianca (white night) of any sort means a night of activities that don’t end until morning.  In this case, it was three nights of tango, all night, with six different DJs.  I was one of them.  Yes, yes, yes.  We danced from 10pm to 6am for three nights.  To someone who does not dance tango, this sounds absurd.  But if you dance tango, I know you understand (and have probably done it yourself).  We who dance tango, particularly when we are having a great time, don’t realize what time it is, ever.  We place ourselves at the mercy of the DJ and dance and dance until he or she calls “last tanda!” and then we realize the night is over.  That’s just how it is.

Anyway, it was a splendid occasion and my DJing went over really well with everyone (we had people from all over Italy).  I was able to make a lot of contacts around Italy so that I can travel with my tango.  What’s funny is that even though I was complaining a bit at the very end that I was finally so tired, by the next day, after the three nights were over, I was sad that there wasn’t a fourth.  Ah, tango.  The things it does to us.  And to enjoy the sunrise while in a warm tango embrace?  Priceless.

Ah, and if you hop over to my tango lessons page (in Italian, sorry) you’ll see that I’m even in the paper.

Below: me after DJing the second night.  Not bad for 6 o’clock in the morning!

You breathe the music.

Now that tickled me pink!

The other night I had the pleasure of providing lovely, danceable golden age tango music at the Milonga Presidencial in Lecce. I love DJing and was happy to have a chance to do it again.  I was quite proud of myself as everyone danced the whole time, and I noticed that the circulation on the floor was particularly smooth.  The energy was high but there was certainly no “quilombo”, disorder.  I hope I can do it again!

I think some people don’t realize what a job it is to DJ.  I had people make requests, and while I kept their requests in mind, I couldn’t simply play what someone wanted unless it went with the rest of the evening.  I was mostly concerned with paying attention to the dance floor and how the people were reacting, so I could arrange my music accordingly.  I like to think I did a nice job – I kept the floor pretty full at all times and there were smiles all around.  Part of that is probably that it’s finally summertime and spirits are up in general.

Several people came up and invited me to dance.  I felt bad saying no, but I really preferred to pay attention to organizing and playing the music.  When I felt comfortable leaving the table, I would signal to someone who had invited me earlier, so we could dance.  I missed a few guys and I hope they understand.  I really just wanted to take care of the music and the people.  But it was nice to be part of the dance floor as well so I could feel what they were all feeling.

A few people asked if I would include a rock & roll tanda, or maybe “tropical” (aka salsa, cumbia, etc). I really wanted to but the time flew by and I didn’t get a chance to.  I promise I will next time.  I always enjoyed the rock & roll tandas in Buenos Aires – even if I don’t dance rock & roll myself, it’s always great to watch.

Today I begin a month long course on milonguero style tango here in Lecce.  And this summer I hope to DJ some more!  Things are going pretty well for me down here.

As you’ve probably been able to conclude, I’m in Lecce.  The Tramontana blew me here.

Tramontana is the name for the wind from the north that blows here in Puglia sometimes.  Since I arrived from a land in the “north” (okay, central Italy – but it’s all relative.  From here everything is north), and since I arrived suddenly, I like to think it was the wind that brought me.  It has a romantic feel to it, no?

The wind may not have literally blown me here but it sure feels like it.  A series of events brought me here, and I simply decided to go with the flow and follow all the signs.  A bit vague, I know, but it included a lot of music, a lot of tango and a free ride in a friend’s car.  I simply followed the current (as fighting it would get me nowhere) and here I am.  I have projects I’m very excited about in Lecce.  It’s all fine and dandy.

And here is what can happen when you follow the signs and go where the wind takes you.  This vals sums up my mood lately. 

It will be a bit of time before I can describe this trip in detail.  One thing I can say is that it’s needed.  The winter in Perugia has been gray, gray, gray.  It gets you down.  On top of that, I’ve been dealing with the disappointing sting of learning that a certain personal relationship was… not what I thought it was.  I’ve been processing  that for about a month.  On top of that, I’ve been worrying about my grandmother’s health, which fortunately seems to be doing well now.  On top of that, I’ve been just so incredibly busy (which is good, but exhausting!).

I stopped in Rome for a night before I came down here, and it was such a dream.  I went to a milonga organized by some people I met in Buenos Aires, and was pleasantly surprised to find all of those people, plus an Argentine I knew from my regular milonga in Buenos Aires.  Needless to say, I had some heavenly dances and made some wonderful connections.  I took the metro to get to the milonga and walked around the neighborhood where it is located.  It brought me to life.  I realized how much of a city girl I am.  You just can’t take Buenos Aires out of the girl!

Lecce has lifted my spirits.  I have met so many angels here who have gone out of their way to welcome me and make me feel good.  I have made a wonderful tango connection and gave a two-hour lesson to an amazing, sweet couple who lavished me with pastries, coffee, sweet wine and tangos sung by the beautiful voice of Tito Schipa, a tenor from Lecce.  Thanks to them, I have had requests from other dancers here asking for lessons.  It’s turning out to be an eventful week!

Everything seems to be made of the local Leccese stone.  The streets and architecture glow at night with the help of streetlights, and during the day when Lecce is bathed in sunlight it’s like standing in a city of gold.  It’s a really beautiful city.

A new friend brought me to Gallipoli today and it made my heart sing.  That beautiful ancient town on the Ionian Sea tickled my soul just right and made me feel light and refreshed.  It was so cloudy on the way there, but exactly over Gallipoli there was only clear blue sky.  It was a treat to walk along the water without a jacket, smelling the salty air.  We delightfully scooped out the “eggs” from the insides of ricci (sea urchins) with bread while looking at the horizon.  This burst of sun made me feel pretty good.

I’m positively in love with Gallipoli, but another new contact has offered to take me to Otranto.  I can hardly wait.

This has been a great experience for me because I’ve been able to get away and do something I’m good at: traveling.  It’s been a nice reminder that I’m independent.  I have gotten to know new people, I have tasted all kinds of interesting new foods, and I did it myself.

My heart is bursting with love for this area that is new to me, and I hope to keep it in my life.

Mina is one of the most amazing Italian singers, in my opinion.   She’s unique.  Her voice tears you apart inside, in a good way.

This evening I was whisked away to a presentation on the lovely Mina, and we were shown various recordings of her throughout the important eras in her career.

The pleasant surprise of the evening (for me) was when they showed us a performance in which she sang a tango, Balada Para Mi Muerte, accompanied by Astor Piazzolla.  It moved me.  And I found it on youtube:

And here’s a song by Mina che mi da brividi (that gives me shivers).

It’s called Ancora, Ancora, Ancora:

This has been the grandest summer.  I came back in April a mess, a total mess.  It is now the end of August and I’m definitely not a mess.  :-)  I’m fine!  Great, in fact!  But very, very busy.

My relationship with Tango has been funny this summer.  I really wanted to take a break from it, only because I tend to identify music with periods in my life.  When I listen to Tango I am emotionally and mentally brought back to the biggest year-and-a-quarter of my life: the time I lived in Buenos Aires.  I am not talking about the milongas.  Sure I miss them (I really miss Cachirulo), but Seattle has a really nice milonga scene so I’m fine there.

I married Buenos Aires.  I pledged my heart to Buenos Aires and told it I wanted to spend the rest of my life with it.  I threw myself into that city and experienced it as a resident (albeit clandestine).  I even stayed long enough to have gasista problems!  That’s like a rite of initiation, isn’t it?

So when I listen to Tango music, that’s where I’m transported.  To the daily life of Buenos Aires, the good and the bad of it.  That can be tough, especially considering the giant emotional experiences I had there.

But, I showed up at the milongas of Seattle anyway.  I embraced, I walked, I socialized with my friends.  I formed new bonds and strengthened existing ones.  I taught my tango secrets to new dancers and already strong tangueros.  I organized and taught two workshops all by myself, with success!  And I’m about to host Maximiliano Gluzman for a series of workshops that I’m totally excited about.

So while Tango music initially made it hard to heal from the heartbreak I experienced early in the year, the dance has kept me around people who give me strength and joy.

It has also helped me survive after my own economic crisis, because it has brought me a small income.  I’ve heard people from here complain that Tango is just a “business” for a lot of folks in the milonga circuit of Buenos Aires, but after experiencing what I have, I can understand why one would make it a business.  When you’re down to nearly nothing, you use what you have (in this case, Tango), and that gets you by.  It’s how you survive.  Tango dancers have to eat and pay bills too.  And sometimes Tango is what provides that.  The Italian word “arrangiarsi” comes to mind.  This article in The Florentine defines it for you.

Times were really hard for me.  Tango saved me.  I’m grateful for Tango.

Something else great that happened: I worked every day this August, translating.  Small stuff, but at least I worked.  I was surprised.  August is usually a time when Italy basically shuts down and goes on vacation,  so I was prepared for a month of nothing, since my business comes from Italy.  I think a few of my clients stuck around (less people can afford those vacations this year), so I got work.  Thank you Universe.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I’m now running around and publicizing like heck for Maxi’s workshops.  I want this to work.  It will.  :-)

I’m also planning for the next phase of my life.  Not so surprising hint: It involves a place shaped like a boot.

Osvaldo Fresedo grew up from the age of 10 in the lovely, sleepy barrio of La Paternal, the barrio I called my home for a while in Buenos Aires.  I thought of him often when I walked through that neighborhood, wondering what sort of inspiration he took from his surroundings.  According to todotango, it was there that he started to play the bandoneon.

His nickname was El Pibe de La Paternal, the kid from La Paternal.  A couple of my friends would affectionately tease me and call me La Piba de La Paternal.  Because of my experience in this beautiful, sweet, special neighborhood, the thought of which conjures images of jacaranda trees and one-story houses with ornate detailing on their facades, I feel a connection to Fresedo.

I love to listen to tango music at home.  Just sit, and really focus on every detail, the words, the rhythm, each instrument.  I love to let the music carry me to Buenos Aires and beyond while I sit with a glass of wine or a cup of coffee.  But I cannot listen to Fresedo when I’m sitting at home.

If I listen to Fresedo with that much focus, I get the most massive waves of nostalgia for Buenos Aires and I start crying.  Anything from quiet weeping to desperate sobbing.  No other orchestra can transport me back “home” to Buenos Aires like that.  The music, so melodic and sweet and sentimental, tickles my heart and then breaks it open, reminding me that I’m not there.  And I cry.  If I’m paying attention to the lyrics, I’m a basketcase.

*Dancing* to Fresedo, however, is wonderful.  If I’m dancing, I can handle the music.  I have an outlet for expression.  I can channel all my emotions into the embrace.  I can walk away from the tanda a very happy tanguera.

Last night I was dancing with a very close porteño friend during a tanda of Fresedo.  He’s someone who has been very much a part of my Buenos Aires life, and is an ideal partner for a tanda of Fresedo.  All that sentimentality and nostalgia, shared with someone who was there.  Not to mention he’s a really good dancer.  During the fourth tango, Sueño Azul, I allowed my eyes to close and all of a sudden, in his embrace, surrounded by the music, I was transported.  Literally.  I was no longer in Seattle at China Harbor…

…It was the month of March and I was walking on Scalabrini Ortiz at 4:00 in the morning, to a bus stop, after saying goodbye to a friend in La Viruta (a milonga I NEVER went to but once in a while).  The air smelled sweet because it had rained most of the night.  I had Buenos Aires almost all to myself.  As the bus (the 110) made its way through the various streets, I admired the trees so typical of Buenos Aires neighborhoods, lining the streets with their twisted roots and branches.  At the time, my life as I knew it was in the process of falling apart (so I could later put it back together again), but I was in my city, peaceful, tired, okay…albeit a little sad.  Buenos Aires was always so sweet to me at night.

I opened my eyes towards the end of the tango, back to the reality of the opening milonga of the Seattle Tango Magic festival, and sighed with contentment.  I really did have some Tango Magic.

Seattle Tango Magic starts today with a milonga at China Harbor!

Paul Akmajian from Albuquerque, NM is DJing tonight.  I had the pleasure of meeting him in Buenos Aires, and it will be fun to see a face that I will surely attach to the memories I have of my beloved city en el sur.

There will be plenty of dancing to be done the whole weekend.  Go here for details.

I’ve traveled quite a bit and I’ve lived in a few countries.  Music always ties me to these countries.  It ties me to all life experiences.  A song can bring back a taste or a smell or something I’ve seen.

I can listen to Italian music and think of green hills with cypresses, train rides, people, food and sometimes streets with Renaissance or medieval architecture.  I can listen to music that was important during my time in Switzerland and remember sitting on a train, looking at Lake Zurich.

When it comes to Buenos Aires, when I hear its music (in this case, Tango), I feel like I’m walking down the street in one of its barrios.  Always the streets.  Always walking.

When I listen to D’Agostino with Vargas singing, I’m in Once in the fall or winter, walking down my street, Adolfo Alsina, or maybe standing on the balcony looking down at the street and wanting to walk on it (I did this when it was too cold to go outside).

When I listen to Rodriguez (w/Moreno), I’m turning from Juan B. Justo on to Sanchez, the street I lived on in La Paternal, in the heat of the summer.

There is a particular Di Sarli interpretation of the tango Nobleza de Arrabal, and for some reason whenever I hear that, I’m walking with Joli in the wintertime, from her old place in Villa Urquiza to Villa Pueyrredon to pick up her stepson from jardin.  In some parts of the tango I can actually visualize and feel specific streets.  I can even tell you what shoes I’m wearing.

It remains constant.  I always think of streets, particular characteristics of them, what they feel like, what sorts of trees there might be, the curvy entryways of some of the buildings.  My feet touching the ground.  My weight changing and my hips shifting as I move on my left leg, then my right, then my left, then my right…

For me, Tango really is a walk.  It’s a walk in Buenos Aires.  The walk of a porteño.

(a street in La Paternal)