My kind of tango

Live in Buenos Aires, dance tango all night right? Mmmmmm…

I’m sure friends passing through think me a total flake, but what you do when you have a couple of weeks, a month, six months or even a year changes big time when you know you’re in it for the long haul. But, does the fun have to end when you need to get up before eight in the mornings, conserve your pesos in the face of a British pound scraping the floor with the dollar, finally wake up to the fact that sleep during the hours of darkness matters? I think not. Here’s why.

I meet my talented Brit film making friend at six on the corner of Corrientes and Rodriguez Peña and we nip on the bus to Humberto Primo 1462. It’s Saturday evening and the milonga is Los Consagrados. It’s my first visit, not to the venue of course, but to this particular milonga. My dear blogging pal TangoCherie will be there with the charming Ruben, and has been kind enough to offer us a seat at her table. I’ve been promising to pop along for almost, I’m embarrassed to say, two years… ah well the best things are worth a wait I reckon.

My mate looks cool as a delicious banana licuado in her white summer dress and I’m begging fashion advice from her as we walk the last couple of blocks to the entrance. I’ve seen myself in a few shop windows en route and I’ve decided that I’ve really got to invest in some clothes that actually fit me. I seem to shrink in forty degree heat.

“I cut my own fringe today,” I say, “Does it look straight? And you’ve gotta tell me if my trousers look baggy at the back. Should I do the belt up a notch or will that give me the disappearing up the arse look?”

“Your fringe looks great and yeah, hitch them up. You’ll fit right in!”  she laughs.

I know what she means. I do it. After my unexpected success with flashing the two inches of taut tummy some weeks ago, I am pretty confident that promoting my backside just a millimetre or three won’t do my dancing chances any harm. But I pull my top down. I’m a shy girl at heart and I’m spoken for. Happily.

We pay our $15 pesos (a good price these days so I’m smiling) and head straight for the ladies to slip into our tango shoes and for me to check the trousers one last time. God it’s hot. The attendant is fanning herself madly and complaining with good humour about the heat – or at least I think she is: she talks very fast. I am grateful that I don’t have to spend my entire evening in there and resolve to give her a big tip later. I’m sweating by the time we emerge, but the huge elegant salon (of Niño Bien fame) has whirring fans and I am excited because I bought my own cheap gypsy style one on the street this week. It’ll be my first milonga with an instant breeze in my hand. Cool.

The guy on the door is charm itself (and cute) and eventually after a pleasant enough half an hour seated on one side of the room, we spot my friends across the ‘pista’, and join them. Oh what a joy it is to share a milonga table with lovely people who know and understand Buenos Aires tango. When the milonga is their ‘tango home’ it’s extra special. I sit there and think how bloody lucky I am. To be able to chat in Spanish with Ruben and in English with Cherie, share potato crisps, catch up on all the news. To my delight Ruben dances a tanda with me, and later one with my mate. Thank you for sharing him Cherie: what a fabulous dancer he is. And thank you Ruben: 1. because you made me feel like a queen, and 2. because I am not kidding when I say that after that tanda I almost have to fight off a queue of charming Argentine gentlemen milongueros, and every single one of them makes me feel like a queen too. Truly this is a lesson in why, if you want to dance with the best of Buenos Aires in places where you aren’t known, you have to get out on that floor with someone who makes you look beautiful. Ruben does. I know, not only because I felt it myself but because some of those guys tell me so,

“I saw you dancing with Ruben. I had my eye on you. Really you are a lovely dancer.”

And honestly, this isn’t just the ’slime talk’ I used to fall for in the early days either. I know what’s genuine by now. I feel when it’s good, for them as well as me.

Now I will say that this is a friendly place. It’s traditional but it has an informal early evening vibe and there are plenty of ’single’ dancers who want to dance. The atmosphere is inclusive relative to so many places that I’ve been, and both my mate and I were ‘cabeceo-ed’ even before we joined my friends. Proof therefore that some of the men in Los Consagrados will invite strangers to dance. All that aside, to get onto the floor with a wonderful and preferably ‘known amongst the milonguero boys’ dancer is the absolute key to a fab night of tango in this city. Men here want to know that you are worth the risk, or at least the ones who are after your dancing as opposed to your body do. And they are the guys for me.

So both my friend and I dance ‘muchisimo’ and we stay right to the last tanda. I can’t remember the last time I made it right through to La Cumparsita without yawning. We get chatted up by the desirable doorman on the way out. Me chatted up? Bloody hell. We’re giggling as we head down for the bus. I discover that the 60 actually goes straight past on Humberto Primo. Perfect, and at this hour – 10.30pm, it’s safe to be waiting there, well with a friend anyway. The kiosko’s open and the family in the doorway helpfully direct us to the exact location of the bus stop, as it isn’t marked. As we wait, three vans and cars carrying guys we’ve danced with slow down, and friendly shouts of ‘Chau chicas!’ make us chuckle again. One of the vans is white with the word, Pugliese beautifully sign painted in large blue letters down the side. Gorgeous.

I am so happy on the ‘colectivo’ home. It’s 11pm. I’m awake. For three hours I’ve danced my kind of tango: the kind that feels great. I’ve shared with good mates. I’ve been welcomed by a friendly crowd into a milonga that really feels like ‘home’ on first visit. And I’ve still got the energy to join Carlos after work to eat, talk and whatever else the night may bring. Honestly, for this Buenos Aires tango loving soul trying to forge a balanced but adventurous life, this is the way to do it.

And you know what? You guys can try my favourite kind of tango evening too. Cherie and Ruben are lovely genuine people and they offer all kinds of tango services including Milonga Accompaniment. I’m one of those folks who doesn’t like to recommend a thing until I’ve touched it, felt it, believed in it. And although they’ve been my friends for a while, two years it’s taken me to get to Los Consagrados, share their table, dance with Ruben. It goes without saying that Cherie is a lovely dancer too. Last night before we said our ‘hasta luegos’ I remarked to her,

“You know what? I’ve been to this venue so many times for different milongas but this has been the business! I will be back!”

I meant it. Honestly, if you’re new in town and need a relaxed night out with a friendly couple you can trust, well I reckon that Cherie and Ruben and Los Consagrados are a damn good place to start. And hey who knows, maybe I’ll see you there.

Want more details about Los Consagrados? Read what Cherie wrote in 2007 here. Maybe a few details have changed, but you’ll get the idea.