We spill out of La Confitería Ideal into Suipacha with the mini-dramas of our tango afternoon on our lips and with our feet aching from the combination of stiletto heels and a stone floor. I have shared tandas with a few of the milongueros I love the most. I know that by the time we’ve eaten pizza on Corrientes my wings will have folded back into their everyday shape, but that I will probably leave a few fresh, rainbow-coloured feathers in my wake for at least twenty-four hours. Osvaldo Fresedo is the music that has sent me flying today, and I know that I’ll still be hearing Después del Carnaval when I lie in bed later trying to sleep.
To get to pizzería Guerrín we have to cross Avenida 9 de Julio. Last week we dodged buses decked out in royal-blue-and-yellow flags and dangerous toppings of Boca Juniors fans presumably coming into town for their Superclásico clash with River — then, the combination of traffic lights, potential sudden stops and male bodies balanced on colectivo roofs of slippery metal sent our voices to a horrified pitch. Tonight though, the widest avenue in Buenos Aires is filled with Carmina-Burana-style music and folding chairs. A stage as huge as an office block replaces the usual traffic, and contemporary dancers give their all to an audience of thousands. We stand behind the safety barriers for a few minutes and stare. My friend has her eyes on the dancers. Mine rest on the watchers who soak in the free concert. I am sure I see a few pairs of wings unfurl in the crowd. My own wings twitch and a forgotten memory returns to me of how I saw the Ballet Rambert perform Ghost Dances set to haunting South American music when I was at University in London, and how the moving performance left me with a longing to be a dancer. It can take time to learn to fly, I think to myself and I tell my friend about the surfacing of the memory. Being with her tonight has allowed it to survive drowning in the foggy pool of years lived long ago. I thank her.
We go for the pizza. She gets two individual slices and I get the fugazza con muzzarella – chica, half for me and half to wrap and take back for Carlos. We’re midway through our meal when the man on the next table has a seizure, or is it a heart attack? For a moment I wonder if he might be dying. A woman starts shouting for a médico. He begins to vomit. Lumps leave his mouth in arcs and I am certain that he must have already consumed more than one pizza. There’s a buzz of manic action as people flock to help. Then as suddenly as it started, it all stops. He stands up, wipes himself down, sits back at his table with his friends. Only the smell of what happened remains, and soon that is masked by mops dipped in buckets of disinfectant. Let’s get the bill, I say. I turn to signal to the waiter and as I do I see that the dark energy has left the sick man and leapt elsewhere. A fight has broken out just inside the front door, where queues of people jostle to buy take-away porciones of some of the most popular pizza in town. Two women. Screaming. Fists out, I assume, though the details are hidden from me by a chaos of bodies. The violence lasts for a few minutes. La cuenta, por favor! calls my friend, and our waiter finally drags himself from oggling the aftermath of the fray.We pay up, exit and leave the uneasy spirit of the night to feast on the diners we leave behind. Or that’s the plan anyway.
On the few blocks between the restaurant and the number 60 bus stop on Callao, we trip over too many split bags and spilt rubbish, I jump as a disturbed soul yells out behind me, and we are accosted by three strangers who break the usual codes of personal space by touching the Guerrín bag in my hand and who ask us for money and Carlos’ dinner. We choose to step into the path of traffic, rather than stay on the dark stretch of pavement behind a boarded-up magazine kiosk where we can be too easily surrounded. A kind-passer-by-man-in-a-suit moves between them and us as we stand stranded on tarmac. Taxis swerve to avoid us. The possibly drugged-up threesome move on towards Congreso. The red lights of a brand new number 60 rounding the corner are a relief. With a Muchas gracias Señor we thank our guardian angel of a guy and climb on the bus.
There are ghosts on Callao and Corrientes tonight, I say to my friend.
Welcome back dear Sal, she laughs.
My heart beat begins to slow as we turn into the quieter side streets. I check my folded-away wings are undamaged. Text Carlos I’m safely on the bus. Hear an echo of Fresedo. Hug my friend goodnight. Head home.
Buy Happy Tango: Sallycat’s Guide to Dancing in Buenos Aires, and start flying towards your own tango adventure in Buenos Aires, today!
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ISBN: 9780956530608
Author: Sally Blake
Published by: Pirotta Press Ltd
Publication date: 30 June 2010
Tags: Avenida Corrientes, Buenos Aires restaurants, Fresedo, la ideal
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Yay! Glad to hear you are back in action! Maybe I will see you before I leave BsAs next month. Mi novio just arrived yesterday and so we will be hitting the milonga circuit pretty heavily for the next 2 weeks. Un besito, Amy
Amy Allison´s last blog ..The good- the magical and the ugly tango
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Hi Amy, hope you are having a super time and especially so with your novio in town – you must be dancing some extra extra happy tangos! It would be nice to say hi before you leave. I will send you a FB message. Un abrazo, SC
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Welcome back and glad to see you are out and about dancing
I hope you and C are well
Hope to see you next year..
Luv JB-
Hi jamesy! Lovely to hear you. I am indeed out and about a bit and LOVING dancing. It is helping to restore my life force. Haven’t felt much like writing until today, when out of the blue I got the urge to blog. Am very happy that you read my post and said hi. Have a great weekend’s dancing!
I’ll be back next (English) summer I think… a tanda then, perhaps? Un abrazo, SC
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Well that was a bit more drama on the way home than you would normally get. I’m glad nothing worse happened with the guys on the street and you mixing it with the traffic.
You’ve got my mouth watering at the thought of a Güerrin pizza
Take care, Sallycat. Hasta whenever.
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Hey Mark! It was a night and a half… but the pizza was fab, as per usual. De-lish. Miss you here chico, but have a feeling we’ll be seeing you back in BsAs in the not toooo distant. I’ll dance a tango for you at Los Cons tomorrow.
Un abrazo fuerte, SC
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Nice to see you back, Sally! That pizza sounds marvelous! Dance for us all
I’ve got my tango lesson tomorrow-2pm sharp- with Yanagido-san in Tokyo. Always a fan,
Becky
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Hi Becky! Truly there is no better pizza for me to quiet the after 3 hours of tango hunger, but it does have to be after tango because fuggaza con muzzarella is basically pizza dough (which must be good), cheese and onions… lots of onions! Have a fabulous tango lesson. I will be dancing this evening and will think of you. Thanks for letting me know you are still reading me, and enjoying
Un abrazo, SC
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Welcome back to blogging, Sal! See… back in your element and you just can’t help yourself! Next stage of the tango journey = Upping Our Game – gonna be plenty of material, methinks!! Lots of love Hxx
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Thx dear H. Yep, just couldn’t resist painting the page with a few of my favourite words. And oh gosh, can’t wait to get cracking on the search for new Happy Tangos with you… ‘upping our game’, as we have so sweetly coined it, is gonna be a blast. Ta for sharing the joyful camino con migo.
SC
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Yay! So glad you are spreading your wings again here as elsewhere. A bright spot in a VERY cold day in England. In Shrewsbury yesterday where all was well and you were much missed.
Keep flying, Sal.
Jo x
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Hello dear Jo,
Spent some time last night showing Carlos photos of snowy Britain from the BBC. Wow! There was even one of Derby. It’s good to be writing again, just feel my creativity begin to flow a little brighter now. Think of you all so often and we hug you always. Will do my best you keep flying, whatever the weather.
You too, eh?
Your SC
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Three cheers your back Hip Hip Herway
And when you come back, you jump right back in. I mean no pussy footing around for you. No way. Medical emergencies, fist fights, danger on the streets, knights in shinning suits. OK maybe the suit wasn’t shinning, but a knight saving ladies in distress all the same. All told in that Sallycat best friend tellin you about her day style. Wow I have missed that.Welcome back, my best to C. And I hope your mom is doing well.
Mike
PS. We have had a ton of snow here on the west coast of Can. as well. But now the torrential rain has washed it all away. The wind is howling under the doors and buffeting the windows like some demon trying to get in. It’s not even winter yet. They are saying this is going to be the worst one in decades. Enjoy the sun and think of us in our long underwear and mittens.
PPS. No silly we wear boots and jackets too.
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Hi Mike in Van, and may I say – good to have you back readin’ and commentin’!
I loved writing this piece, as maybe you could tell. Tango has helped to bring me back to write again. Regular dancing two or three times a week and the energy in the most wonderful of the embraces here in Buenos Aires has been incredibly restorative for me.
Mum is up and down to be honest, it is a long haul back from all she has been through, but she was able to speak to me for a moment on the phone yesterday and it is so wonderful to hear her gorgeous new voice across the miles.Warming hug to your snowy windy world from my clear-blue-sky-and-hot-sun city, SC
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