changing sallycat

You are currently browsing articles tagged changing sallycat.

The essence of tango?

December 11, 2010 in Diary of a Tango Dancer in Buenos Aires | 28 comments

Reading Bora’s Tango Journey from Buenos Aires, and in particular Day 8 and the comments on it, sends me reeling back through the years to 2007 and the post I wrote in December of that year called More tango lessons, the tale of a painful episode that I will never ever forget. I know the theme isn’t quite the subject of Bora’s Day 8 post, but the sum of her Buenos Aires writings (up to Day 12 so far) moves me and causes me to remember some of the pivotal steps on my own tango journey. She and the people who have commented on her post have prompted me to consider the ‘real’ tango in this city, and what it means to me, right now, in 2010. Why am I still dancing tango in Buenos Aires, three years on?

The other day I had cause to tell the following little story to a dear long-time-tango-dancing friend. She laughed and exclaimed something along the lines of, Sallycat, you have just described the essence of tango! Here’s what I told her. See what you think.

.

.

I’m sitting in a milonga where it’s pretty quiet and it’s easy to see everyone in the room, the dancers on the dance floor and the folk sitting the tanda out. It’s the afternoon and there are people present who never frequent the late-night milongas.

I see quite a few men I wouldn’t really care to dance with. Maybe I’ve danced with them before and don’t want to repeat the experience. Maybe I haven’t danced with them, but they dance in a way that does not encourage me to want to leave my seat. Or, maybe I am repelled by the ugly and all-too-visible shapes of their egos or the fact that they are obviously only interested in dancing with the outer beauty of youth or the prospect of a quick lay, one of which I do not have at age forty-seven and the other I will never be. I will decline to embrace these guys. I let them go in my mind. These men are not for me.

I begin to look for the men who I might want to embrace. I keep my eye on one man I’ve never seen before. I do not see him dance. He sits quietly, on his own, sips from a small coffee cup.

I do leave my seat, for Fresedo, Donato, D’Angelis, Caló and the valses. The rest I sit out. It’s hot. There’s no aircon. The wall fans can’t cope. I save myself for music I love. At the start of each tanda I glance at the man again. He’s pretty old, I’m guessing eighty. He looks frail, but his fresh white cotton shirt has perfect creases ironed into the sleeves. Maybe he just dressed up to come and listen to the music and soak up the tango memories seeping from the walls of the place.

Or maybe not, because with the first few notes of the new tanda in the space between us, he is looking back at me, inclining his head and mouthing the word, Bailamos?

I decide to take a risk — well, in truth, I’d decided it an hour or so before, and he probably knows it. I dip my head in a small movement, mirroring his. He stands for the first time since he arrived in the salón.

When he embraces me I know for sure he has lived a lot of years. He holds me with a telltale combination of security and uncertainty in his physical contact. It isn’t his energy that gives him away. I feel his presence strong and proud, but there is a slight shake in his arms, a momentary tremor, the voice of his body telling its long story to mine, from the first touch.

My body reacts to reassure his. No backing off on my part, or transmitting hints of social conditioning about age or tango ability or tango technique. He may shake slightly, but I have chosen him and I will focus entirely on him and give him my all. I hold him as close as I can and breathe with him. I sense every point of connection with his body. I breathe with him again. With him again.

He breathes with me.

His first steps are relatively simple, and I know he guides me deliberately in to a place that feels good, for me, and for him. He wants us to find the common ground, somewhere where he knows I’m hearing the same music he does and can respond to it without holding back.

Once he has me there, safely on the launch pad, he begins to flex his dancing wings. I become certain that he has waited in his seat all afternoon for this particular orchestra, and now he wants to bring the music that he loves to life, through me.

And the development of his dance across our four tangos? It’s as if he begins with a pencil sketch on a single sheet of paper and ends with a power-packed painting that could fill an entire wall of the Tate. I feel every mark through his chest, and I add my own choices to his as my confidences builds. I hear the music he has selected for me. I respond to it and to him. My energy is not passive, but present and alive in his arms. He paints musical masterpieces on the floor. I feel every knot of tension leave us and I dissolve in the warm melting pot of the security of our hug, the strokes brushed into intricate spontaneous patterns by our feet, the notes written long ago and now rushing through our ears to our legs, and our clasped hands that tense and relax in a way that makes me notice how my skin is hot to his cool. We are a match. We are one.

By the final tango in the tanda, every hint of his physical tremor is completely gone. I am dancing with the spirit of a young man and with a soul that has danced for over fifty years. I become certain that we are dancing in the 1930s, that we have chosen each other in a packed tango hall where a live orchestra is playing, that I am the only woman in his world and that he is the only man in mine.

When he finally pulls away from me I see it in his eyes. I’ve surprised him, as he has surprised me.

Or maybe I haven’t surprised him at all. Maybe his eyes simply speak of triumph that he has so effortlessly extracted my ‘gift‘ and left me wanting more.

Afterwards he escorts me back to my seat and I need him to. I ask him how old he is. Only slightly breathless, he says,

Eighty-two.

I say,

Yes, but you dance like you are twenty-two.

He chuckles.

And you are twenty-two, he whispers in my ear.

I giggle. He kisses my hand.

I can’t dance the next tanda. I need to allow my heart beat to slow. I go to the bathroom to wipe a damp paper towel over my forehead, tidy my hair. When I come back the waiter is clearing the coffee cup from the man’s table. My ‘frail’ eighty-two year old has gone.

.

.

So, what do you think?

And, what do I think?

I think that what we each consider to be the ‘essence of tango’ (or the ‘real’ tango, or whatever you want to call it) and the freedom we give to others to discover and speak of and celebrate their own version of it, probably says more about us than it does about what the essence of tango truly is… will it ever look or feel exactly the same to any two of us? I don’t know, but I think not.

I do know, in my own case, that I’ll always remind myself to remain open to finding the essence of tango in Buenos Aires in the lower-key places, in the humble people, in the quiet of the afternoon, in the last hour of the late-night local milonga, in the second or third rows back in the tango salóns, in the hearts of men who dance for joy to the tango music they truly truly love. And every time I discover what I seek in the arms of those men, I will thank my own tango angel Carlos (seen in my friend Shaun’s beautiful photo at the top of this post, and described in my 2007 post mentioned earlier) for helping me along my path to discovering the intense and very precious essence of tango that I will dance in my heart till the day I die.

Sometimes I will find the bliss I seek. And sometimes I won’t. But, I believe that somewhere in this city (aka world, aka life), what my soul needs in its quest for joy of all kinds, including in tango, is probably always there, right there under my nose. Whether I find it or not is probably pretty much down to me.

That said, I’m off to Los Consagrados.

And wherever you’re dancing tonight, I wish with all my heart that you find what your tango soul is looking for.

Happy National Day of Tango to every one of you!

Buy Happy Tango: Sallycat’s Guide to Dancing in Buenos Aires, and start flying towards your own tango adventure in Buenos Aires, today!

Join the book’s Facebook page for all the Happy Tango updates from Buenos Aires; click here and then click ‘Like’.

If you’ve enjoyed reading Happy Tango, please recommend it to someone else who would enjoy it too. Thank you!

Click a link to buy Happy Tango from:
amazon.co.uk
amazon.com
amazon.ca
amazon.fr
barnesandnoble.com
BookDepository.co.uk
BookDepository.com (the Book Depository offers free shipping to many countries). If you prefer to buy from your bookstore, then you should be able to get them to order you a copy, wherever you are in the world. Ask for:

ISBN: 9780956530608
Author: Sally Blake
Published by: Pirotta Press Ltd
Publication date: 30 June 2010

Share

Tags: , , , ,

Dreams, bestsellers and signposts

August 25, 2010 in Live your dreams, Sallycat - the writer within, The tale of my book - Happy Tango | 26 comments

If you’ve already read  Happy Tango, I’m sure you will quickly spot why my brother-in-law drew my attention to these words in the fourth paragraph of Emma Brocke’s article “Eat, Pray, Cash in” in the Guardian Newspaper, Saturday 14th August 2010. She wrote,

Anything with “happiness” in the title and a set of rules to follow stands a good chance of vaulting into the bestseller lists, from business books (Delivering Happiness: A Path to Profits, Passion, and Purpose by Tony Hsieh) to Gretchen Rubin’s the Happiness Project.

If you haven’t yet read my book (sporting, as it happens, the word “Happy” in the title), then perhaps if I tell you now that it contains Sallycat’s (11) Rules for Happy Tango in Buenos Aires, you’ll get my brother-in-law’s optimistic and good-humoured drift. Anyway, despite the jolly laughter around the breakfast table as we all poured over the Guardian and its commentary on the spectacular success of Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love, I couldn’t help a quick click or two on the Mac to check the day’s Amazon sales stats on my book. After all, it’d be kind of cool to have any sort of ‘bestseller’ on my hands, wouldn’t it?

It is true that my book primarily targets a niche market (the tango dancers of the globe) and is therefore unlikely ever to be selling millions of copies and sitting up there next to Liz Gilbert on the bestseller shelves of Waterstones. But, it seems, that doesn’t mean it can’t sell relatively well and compete with the big-travel-author boys on the online, Amazon bookshelf. You can probably imagine my tickled-pink-ness when I discovered Happy Tango jockeying with the likes of Bruce Chatwin, Paul Theroux, Lonely Planet and Time Out at the top of the Amazon “Bestsellers in (the category) Argentina”… My friends, regardless of the actual number of copies sold, when you see a screen like this, with your book at #2 between Bruce and Paul, you have to finally allow yourself a little shout of delight that your dream (documented here on this blog in October 2008) to write and publish a real book which helps strangers as well as friends really, really did come true. Result? You look back. You remember the journey, and where you started. You consider where you are now. You feel absolutely bloody amazing. You dared to dream. You made your dream come true. You did it. And it’s nice to have a pic like this one to pop into my album of happy dreams lived, because when I look at it it makes my heart sing with pride and joy, and I think it probably always will.

I am a visual soul, you see. On the path of my dream to write a book, I used a mental image, of me opening a box of my own finished and published books, to help me focus on my intention. The visualisation felt like a magnet that pulled me closer to my goal. I also used concrete objects: I had business cards made with Tango dancer. Writer. Adventurer. written on them, and I took an old book, handmade a new cover for it, hand-scribed the title Sallycat’s Adventures on it, and put it on show in my apartment where I couldn’t help but see it every day… my book to be, in the making, in my mind and on my bookshelf.

I am certain that intention-imaging/modelling of this nature helped me achieve my writing-a-book dream, though the idea of it came into my life long before, via a personal development course I attended during my early twenties when I was working for IBM: the facilitator asked us to make a collage of images, images we felt drawn to as we focused on “the future I want”, chosen while flicking through magazines; I found the exercise to be powerful and I kept the collage, and over the years I made countless new ones. Over time, I did notice the ever-present open spaces and soaring birds, though I confess that my earliest efforts were also plastered with thatched country cottages, a Golf GTI 16v and some cuter-than-cute babies… The Golf materialised. The babies didn’t, and they eventually disappeared from the collages altogether, along with all types of car, while the ‘flight  and freedom’ symbols multiplied. Like Amazon Sales Ranks, nothing stands still, including my dreams. And it’s up to me to stay in touch with my soul so that I know if I still want to fly (or drive) and if so, where to.

While writing this blog post, I decided to check in with myself today; in the quickest of quick exercises, I looked at the hundreds of photos that Me and C. have taken in the UK and built an instant (without allowing myself to think too much) collection of a few that pull at my heart, right here, right now. Whether symbolic or literal, it doesn’t matter; the images I choose could be signposts pointing towards my future.

What does it mean, this particular collection of snaps? Well, it’s probably a case of too few pics and too early to tell. I want to do several more of these using images from a few different sources — these are from just one set of photographs taken by Me and C. over a short summer; there’s no (obvious) tango or Buenos Aires, but then there weren’t any photos of tango or Buenos Aires in the mix of pics I was picking from. I won’t be making any grand overnight life-changing decisions based solely on this photo-collage. On the other hand, even a quick glance over it does confirm one or two things… things that I am already taking action towards. That’s cool. Reassuring stuff. And doing it makes me want to get my hands on a pile of magazines and start ripping out pages to make a huge dream-conjuring collage the size of a wall mural… ah, the creative flow once it starts flowing. Fun, isn’t it?

How do you stay in touch with your dreams and make sure you are flying in the direction of your soul’s desires? Ever tried making a collage? If not, why not give it a go? It feels like play. It’s a great way to create art out of the pile of old magazines already earmarked for recycling. And it might just set you out on a new path of the he(art). Perhaps you’ll discover that you really do want to write that bestseller. But if you do, don’t forget to magic up a title containing the word “happiness” and a few rules for the reader to follow — and who knows, if Emma Brocke is right (and I’m certainly looking forward to finding out whether she is), your dream might come true faster than you think.

Happy Tango: Sallycat’s Guide to Dancing in Buenos Aires complete with its 11 Sallycat’s Rules for Happy Tango in Buenos Aires is available from amazon.co.uk, amazon.com and amazon.ca, and from BookDepository.co.uk and BookDepository.com. You can read an extract from The Introduction to the book, here; you can hook into some 5* reviews of the book, here; you can follow any updates from Buenos Aires on The (Happy Tango) Updates Blog, here; you can get notice of all updates and other Happy Tango news by ‘liking’ the book’s Facebook page, here.

Thanks go to Mark Brooker of walkjivefly.com for the super picture of Happy Tango being read on one of my favourite streets in Buenos Aires, Avenida Santa Fe; now there’s a man who is living his dreams, and I salute him for it.

Share

Tags: ,

The space-in-between (and some perfect empanadas)

June 6, 2010 in Live your dreams, Sallycat back in the UK, Uncategorized | 22 comments

I’m in the air somewhere above the Atlantic.

Argentina (where, for a bit over 3 years, I’ve been learning to live the life I want) is behind me; England (where, for 43 years, I struggled to live the life I thought I should want) is about four hours ahead of me. C., the man I love the most, is in the seat beside me, watching the Spanish-dubbed Helena Bonham Carter and Johnny Depp romp through their very own Wonderland. My parents are driving through the early hours down the M6 to meet us. I’m wrapped in two blankets, cloaked in the ear-plugged peace of a British Airways night flight, and filled with a tranquility that surprises me, but that is oh-so welcome.

This is my third trip back to Inglaterra since I first flew to Buenos Aires in 2007, and it will be the longest so far (if we stick to the dates on our tickets). As I wrote in my last post, I’ve done the absolute minimum of planning, barely making any arrangements or promises, thus keeping the sense of freedom that I now know I need for joy. I’ve also avoided the pre-departure emotional roller-coasters that were once a habit: I remember last year’s slightly nostalgic walk from the last milonga before my departure (minor dramatics) and I recall the year-before’s alarmingly emotional upheaval, as illustrated by my reaction to simply being on a plane headed towards Britain (major dramatics). That I can now sit here with a calm and happy heart, tells me mucho. If you read those two past posts, I think you’ll feel the change in energy. Getting gradually more balanced, no?

In all my life, I never found it easy to leave a place. I used to be the sort of person who’d run back to re-check the door was locked (twice), or phone a friend from the airport to ask them to go and do it. I’d get in the taxi and let my mind run over every possible thing I might have forgotten, until I found something… and I always found something.  If a re-check was impossible, I’d sometimes allow myself to worry about the thing for days into my travels – not constantly or too overtly, you understand, but kind of secretly, in moments when I was alone or in moments when I didn’t think you’d notice. But, of course, the people close to me always noticed, because you can’t be fully present when you are worrying, can you? I’d appear distracted  and sometimes be intolerant too, because someone I love would want my attention and I’d be preferring to devote that attention to the pointless, time-wasting fears and frets of VOD. How damn daft is that?

Preparing to leave Buenos Aires this time, I made the decision I just wasn’t going to do any of that stuff. And I didn’t. It was that simple. I had one wobbly day when I was exhausted from working too hard towards the publication (still aiming for the coming weeks) of Happy Tango and realised that I wasn’t going to be able to do everything I’d hoped to do in the days available. But, as is my new way (determined to change old and joyless patterns), I accepted it and relaxed my thinking accordingly. I didn’t get all my work done, so I was right in that matter, but the world sure kept turning. I’m on the plane and I’ve told my Mum I’ll be working next week. Life goes on.

In addition to accepting that I wasn’t going to fit all the work in, I played a bit harder for good measure. Me and C. got invited, by one of the most generous-hearted people I know, to learn how to make empanadas with a top cook called Teresita who lives about an hour from Buenos Aires. We ended up dancing tango for the assembled guests, C. got gorgeously talkative (on a few sips of some rather super Argentine vinos) and I got to eat heaps of mini-pasties that tasted as if they’d come straight from empanada heaven. If you fancy an off-the-beaten-track foodie experience while in Buenos Aires, check out the photos of our fun and Teresita’s website try2cook.com to find out about the sort of cool time you could have.

And any last tangos? Well, I did them too. Had to savour being in the arms of those ‘milongueros I love the most’ before hitting the dance floors of the Reino Unido, didn’t I? But, I’m looking forward to a spot of UK tango, I confess. Got some research on the gift to be doing and I can’t wait to get started. I’ve even got other tango bloggers sending out pleas for me on that score (Mark, you’re an angel). Here’s my own request. Brit boys, please ask me to dance and show me that you know the secret… that’ll be wicked!

I’m now two hours away from touchdown, so they’ll be bringing the breakfast out any minute and I’ll have to sign off. But, I’ve done what I needed to do. I wanted to write this post in the air, in the world of zero responsibilities, where I’m in neither of the lands I love. I figured that up here, where my thoughts can’t be distorted by being in either one place or the other, I’d be able to see my latest truths. And I do.

In this precious ’space-in-between’, I’m not thinking beyond hugging my Mum and Dad in Terminal 5 and checking out the World Cup TV schedules in the Radio Times, asap — gotta make sure that Carlos can get to watch the Argies win their group games and that I can watch England win theirs. And, that is it. No worries. No frets. No looking back. No looking forward. No VOD.

Hey, I have exactly the life I want! There. Here. Anywhere. Now.

Fact is, tonight (and tonight is all that exists), I am truly grateful to be flying into the dawn above the beautiful, British corner of The Universe that for the next few months will be our home.

Share

Tags: , , ,

How Buenos Aires has changed me

May 19, 2010 in Expat in Buenos Aires, Live your dreams | 34 comments

How scheduled is life in the land where you live?

Me and C. are rapidly approaching a summer in the UK (yes, England is on our horizon and, for various reasons, we expect to be dancing tango in Blighty for as long as three months this time), and I’m noticing that in order to make things work for us over there, I have to do far more arranging than I normally do here in Buenos Aires. It feels alien: advance flight bookings, fixed-date month-ahead train tickets, agreements with kind and generous UK folk for them to put us up (or put up with us) or to lend us cars. On such and such date we will be travelling to such and such town to see such and such friends, and we need to sort it now, in case they are off on holiday or offering their sofa to someone else. In other words, I’m doing nothing more than the normal degree of planning that most people do to make things happen smoothly in their lives. So why does it feel do damn strange to me?

In my ‘life before Argentina’, I used to do a great deal of event scheduling. My mum bought me a wall calendar every Christmas, and it used to be packed with my future — weekends filled with dinner parties or country pubs, Southampton footie matches (home and away), visits to family and friends homes, friends and family visits to our home, meetings and greetings, often decided on and agreed weeks ahead. I remember conversations when we’d say to people, It’s going to have to be the month after next I’m afraid, and I’d be thinking, Oh God, when oh when can I have a weekend just for meeeee? But, the truth was that, in general, life felt empty without activities lined up, as if it might slip away unnoticed. Plans meant direction; lists meant action, purpose, time filled usefully; and lists and calendars with items crossed off them meant success and achievement. It was all so… well… organised. Deep down though, I was a person with longings to rebel; I wanted to rip up the calendar, and dance on its pages. As it turned out, I kind of did.

Three years on, I don’t have a calendar in Buenos Aires. I never know the date. I always have to ask people. Days of the week I remember by a few fun but fairly loose weekly fixtures, such as Mondays — tea and dancing and dinner after with mates afterwards, Wednesdays — hooking up with fellow writers, Saturdays — sharing a table with friends and more marvellous tango, Sundays — chilling out with C. Any extra plans involving others tend to get made only days or hours before the start time, and they often allow quite easily for a late change of heart (falling asleep after dancing in the afternoon, can’t do that salsa club at 1am after all, type of thing). When people want to make plans further out than a few days, I find myself saying, Do you mind if we pencil it in and confirm nearer the time? or Can we see how we feel when Sunday comes? Maybe it sounds a bit rude to those who are making generous offers to me or those used to calendars filled with plots and schemes, but I’ve learned that if I don’t feel like doing something in the moment it’s often better not to do it (for everyone concerned, to keep the energy in the situation at ease), and I know that many of my friends here feel the same. Mostly it works, and mostly it works without anyone feeling too let down when things don’t happen ‘as planned’. If it doesn’t work for me in any moment, then it just means I need to relax a little more, smile a little more, laugh a little more, let other people go their own way a little more. As soon as I do that, life feels easier, smoother, freer.

Carlos always says to me, Eat medialunas when you want to eat medialunas, sleep when you want to sleep, write when you want to write, shag when you (actually that last one is my lingo, because he is far too genteel for British words like shag)… and so on. And I do. I also impose a bit of discipline as I do have dreams, as you know, and want to keep walking towards them — so, every day, something to progress my writing work, something to move Happy Tango towards publication, something to move the general administration of life in a good direction, something to connect me with the outside world (a friend or my family or a new person I haven’t met yet), something fun, something to put me in better touch with myself, something from my list of things that bring me joy… my time gets filled fast, but on the whole, it gets filled pretty spontaneously depending on my mood, and my soul loves it. I was right about its longings. It feels happier dancing when it feels like it, than sticking to a dance schedule previously set out and agreed with others, written on an agenda or even just sketched out, ahead of time, in my head.

It’s true that some visitors seem to find my unstructured way a bit hard to understand, in that they assume that because I don’t have fixed schedules, I’m not doing anything at all — How exactly do you spend your time? or Well, you don’t have anything to get up for, do you? (meaning a conventional job I s’pose – though actually Carlos has clients so we do set our alarm just like most people – unless it’s Sunday, when I confess, we have actually been known to stay in bed all day — and how completely fabulous that feels at age 47, I can tell you).  Buenos Aires has also taught me that night hours can be just as handy as day hours… it started with dancing tango from midnight until dawn, but now I’m more likely to be writing into the early hours, or eating a very late dinner, as many Argentines do. Time seems to stretch in this city… there are no fixed meal times in my world, or monthly milonga hours (as tango is available almost around the clock), and the concept of ‘9 to 5′ just doesn’t exist in Argentina at all — ‘10 to 8′ might be closer to it, but even then it can be  bit fluid.

With no schedule, there tends to be less chance of disappointment, too. I think that if I was a millionaire and could afford full price tickets I’d probably just make my bookings the day before travel. Plans carefully made in advance can always be ripped apart at the last minute by some disruption anyway. This week for example, we’ve got British Airways announcing, un-announcing and possibly re-announcing strikes, plus a volcanic ash cloud threatening to close British airspace on any given day. Maybe we’ll be able to travel on our date. Maybe we won’t. Maybe I’ll finalise the way to pay my taxes before I leave town. Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll have a published book by the end of June. Maybe I won’t. Whatever happens, the world will still turn, and I will keep walking towards my dreams and never give up on them.

Meanwhile, I accept that on my UK 2010 journey, a little more scheduling than I normally do in Buenos Aires, might be necessary. On the other hand, if you try to pin me down to something over there and I seem a bit elusive, having read this, you will understand why.

How do you live? Spontaneity or packed calendar on the wall? Sticking to the plan or seeing how you feel on the day? Full dance card the moment you walk through the door and see who’s there, or wait to listen to the music before deciding?

I’m intrigued, because lately, somewhat increasingly, and once again in unexpected ways last week, it seems that whatever detailed plans I add to my overall intentions and aims, something else happens. So at last and I think none too soon, I’m losing faith in the value of my own elaborate schemes… and, as I wrote just a few weeks ago, gaining faith in allowing The Grand Plan to unfold instead. Something else is changing too. Once, as in the saga of Carlos’ passport back in 2007, dealing with the slightest unexpected thing would send me into a tailspin for weeks. Now, it might be a bit unsettling for a few days, but embracing what is (and not what I thought it would be) comes far faster.

Buenos Aires has changed me in oh so many ways. An ability to release ‘the gift’ in the arms of the milongueros I love the most, a passion for the best medialunas in town (the ones I’m gloating over above are served at La Viruta at about 4.15am at weekends), a Barbie inside that creates fab things on the outside… Returning to England always causes me to reflect on how things used to be, and how they are now. No bad thing, I reckon. Especially when I find that I like the new and developing habits of the person I have become. Some say that people never change. I disagree. I think if your soul wants you to chuck the agenda on the floor and dance on it, and you are not stepping up to the task, it will send out its cry to The Universe to give you the opportunity. If you are ready and willing in that moment (and are prepared for some serious life adventuring), all becomes possible. Dancing on that wall calendar? Life in another land? Life with dreams lived rather than only dreamed? What is your soul crying out for today?

Why not take a moment out of the crush of the pre-arranged schedule, to listen.
.
.
With thanks to my friend H. for the pic of me and the medialunas in La Viruta, and for the conversation as we walked along Avenida Corrientes on Monday night, that in part, inspired this post.

Share

Tags: ,

The grand plan

April 22, 2010 in Live your dreams | 21 comments

Last week, Me and C. took a holiday (our first in our three years together, that hasn’t involved other people or me getting a visa) in Capilla del Monte, Córdoba. I wanted to hang out in the traffic-free countryside with my love. And, I needed some space to reflect on the personal changes I must make now, so that I can move in a clearer, surer direction on the path of stepping into the shoes of my own limitless potential, into my very own version of greatness.

If I’m honest with you, I haven’t been too comfortable with the way, over the past few months, I’ve allowed panic and fear to take hold of me when I’ve been faced with unexpected happenings — mentioned on this blog in posts like this one, here.

Back then, I chose (in my mind) to call the things ’shocks’ and ‘nasty surprises’: a stroke of manipulative genius on my part, of course, because it gave me an excuse for the panics and negative thought-spirals I was experiencing in the middle of the night. Deep down though, I was very unhappy with my reactions. I want true personal freedom, and that means wearing life lightly, whatever happens. I wasn’t doing that, and seemed powerless to stop it. I sobbed to Carlos now and again (patient, as ever), talked to my family and friends (who generously listened and tried to help), and sought various forms of outside guidance and support (relaxation iPhone Apps, doctors, books about living in the now). Meanwhile I got on with what needed doing to manage the situations as they cropped up, and in that, at least, I did a pretty good job: the book moved towards publication, a trip to England got organised, and I began to work with the skilled professionals I now realise I need to help me run a life in two lands.

As I sorted out my life stuff, the panics began to subside, but I was tired from all the emotion and I definitely didn’t want the anxiety to return with the next unplanned event. You see, I know that if I am to continue on a path of the heart, with all the uncertainty and change it can entail, I must find my calm  inside and know how to keep it strong. I went to Córdoba last week to think about that.

If you ever need to seek a peaceful retreat in Argentina, I can recommend the beautiful lofts at Terrazas del Uritorco in Capilla del Monte. You’ll see why when you look at the pics from the trip, right here in this flickr photo set. Simply to wake up with a mountain outside your window is enough to stir the soul and calm the heart. This is no ordinary mountain either. It’s known to have a powerful energy, and you might need to prepare yourself for that. Certainly I felt it. But I was seeking truth, and I was ready for anything. I kinda got it too, in the form of violent sickness for a couple of days, but it served to force physical rest… distractions, such as horse-riding treks, weren’t possible, and I was left to the silence and stillness required for revelation.

In my case it isn’t ever anything completely new that strikes in a moment of clarity. It’s usually a fresh perspective on something I already know.  I sat on my private terraza with a mountain view, snuggled in a blanket, star-gazed, and thought back over my life…

The unexpected divorce in my forties, that led to me dancing tango and having the means to start over in Argentina, where I began to discover and live my dreams, met my beloved C. and wrote a book.

The miscarriage and subsequent non-appearance of a baby, in my thirties, that left me without ties and free to make that trip to Argentina, some fifteen years later.

The failed degree in Mechanical Engineering, in my twenties, that led to me studying Computing Science instead, thus ensuring that I was equipped to embrace a life of international blogging and online book selling, twenty five years on.

As I sat looking at the mountain, a calm, clear voice spoke in my head and said,

Sallycat, when things don’t appear to be going to plan, it’s because it is the plan.

I knew it was true. I haven’t felt a breath of panic since.

Meanwhile, I’m on the verge of deciding on the final book cover design for Happy Tango, and I’m making a website for the book — all very, very exciting. I am so looking forward to sharing all that lovely creative stuff with you. For now though, no book news, just mental breakthroughs of the kind that have the potential to change lives, or at least, mine. Let me repeat my Uritorco truth:

When things don’t appear to be going to my original plan, it’s because The Universe is nudging me (or shoving me) towards the real plan. The grand plan. The soul’s plan. The greater-joy-down-the-line plan.

And I only have to cast just half an eye back over my life to see the proof.

Share

Tags: , , , ,

Are you ready for greatness?

April 11, 2010 in Live your dreams, Sallycat - the writer within, The tale of my book - Happy Tango | 12 comments

Are you ready for greatness? That is the question I’ve been asking myself this week.

It started with me noticing (on the bountiful, nonstop newsfeed that is Twitter) and reading this great article on the subject of The 6 fears that stop people writing: #004 Success, by Tom at thebookwright.com. It continued with me having a conversation on Skype with Tom in which I was forced to consider whether I needed someone else to push me along the road towards embracing the possibility of success, or not.

Tom was refreshingly honest with me, and he left me suspecting that nothing too alarming was actually stopping me claiming my own greatness and that I was already on the way to doing so — after all I have written a book; it is finished and I’m not trying to draft the first words, as I was back in January 2009 when I was getting the project off the ground. Tom  pointed me to a powerful meditation technique that connects me in the now with the future me(s) I want to be: for example, the me who is opening a box of my books in the hallway of my parents’ home in Shrewsbury, England, with my Mum and me shrieking with delight and Carlos and Dad (shown in this pic being rather great himself, as the Mayor of Shrewsbury) looking kinda proud — oh, so uplifting, and actually makes me smile broadly when I meditate on it. Meditation then, a way forward for me. See how you get on, said Tom, Come back to me if anything specific crops up. And I will.

In parallel with this, two of my good friends in Buenos Aires stepped into the picture right on cue. @theportableguru gave me a spontaneous and insightful Yantra Deck reading, from which it was clear that to move through the next phase of my journey I can find the clarity and self belief that I need by turning within, focusing on the breath and meditating. And then, both she and another wonderfully creative friend of mine who takes these stunning and spiritually inspiring photographs, said to me over tea yesterday,

Sal, when are you finally going to believe that you are already the successful and capable person you want to be, and that you might not need someone else to fix you?

As they spoke to me (kind of in unison and along these lines), I felt the truth prick uncomfortably. I am in the horrible habit of looking outside me for someone else to remove the blocks with their approval, tell me my work is good enough, tell me (for example) that it’s OK for me to actively and confidently (rather than apologetically) promote my book. There’s something in my that doesn’t like to say, I’m successful already or I’ve written this great book that you are going to want to read, because it feels like boasting or smugness. Yet, when I do say it, in private or in meditation, it makes me smile, lifts my creative energy levels sky high, and leads to me producing exciting work. Where is the harm in that then?

I am forced to admit that my reluctance to walk in the shoes of success is a past pattern, and one that does not have to be a present or future pattern; I have the power within to let that old way go and begin living a new way, as soon as I am ready to start doing it. It’s my choice. Yes, it often feels more comfortable (to me) to create drama around not being up to it or being embarrassed about doing it. But if I really want my dreams to come true, I must start walking in the world of dreams… the world of can not can’t, the world of do not don’t, the world of yes not no, a world with no blocks and no bounds. It’s not to say that I can’t look to mentors and guides to assist me along the path, but I do have to embrace the fact that until I, myself, am truly ready, they will not be able to help me.

This morning, as if to seal the deal, another mate, a Brit in Milan, Italy — I only ever met him once, but he has supported me, championed me, and followed my blog and my journey from the start — sent me a video. Have you ever seen Will Smith talk about his life experience and beliefs before? I hadn’t, until now. I loved what he had to say, and the clip at the end, well, that is what I want to say to you, and me, today and every day. Do watch it; it’s cool.

Tell me how it is for you. Do you readily step into the shoes of your own limitless potential, your own greatness, or do you, like me, sometimes allow yourself to be limited by your own reluctance to say (with plenty of swagger but minus any hint of a brag), I’m there already, I’m successful, my dreams are coming true right now — I’m fab!?

Share

Tags: ,

The wait state

April 5, 2010 in Diary of a Tango Dancer in Buenos Aires, Live your dreams, The tale of my book - Happy Tango | 11 comments

How do you cope with waiting?

In April 2007 I moved out of a hostel and into my first apartment in Buenos Aires. I went to the supermarket, and found myself standing, for what seemed like hours, in a checkout line (I mentioned it here). How can they be so slow? I thought. I got agitated, tutted, hissed complaints under my breath in English (couldn’t do it in Spanish back then, you understand). I ended up abandoning the trolley and heading home minus the food I’d just spent an hour choosing; I stopped off at the instant service 24/7 kiosko for a couple of yoghurts instead. I announced to C. later, Well, I’m not bloody-well going to Supermarket-X again. Their service is soooo slow! He laughed at me. He knew what I didn’t, that there was nothing special and different about Supermarket-X. Oh no, nothing at all. Supermarket-X and Y and Z and every letter you can possibly think of, are the same. Fast-track and self-scan have not quite arrived in Argentina, you see. Not even three years on, in 2010. Add to that the facts that no-one ever has change or coins, people forget to weigh their fruit and veg and we all have to wait while they go back and do it, everyone wants their stuff delivered, credit cards need id… blah, blah, blah. Now, I never leave home for even the flashiest and priciest of Jumbos or Carrefours without a book in my bag and a healthy dose of patience, tolerance and acceptance in my attitude. And I must be changing because I can even manage to get home with a smile on my face — sometimes.

Last night while watching a fairly daft film about Noah’s Ark on cable (though I confess I found it terribly funny and sweet), I was reminded that when we ask God for something (or maybe when he knows we need the thing), he won’t give it to us directly, but he’ll give us a way to get the thing we ask for, and it’s up to us to take the opportunity. I don’t actually remember asking for patience…  In 2010, my life has been a series of waits. I’m forced to conclude that God and his Universe know best.

I am delighted to report that one of my waits is over: I got the go ahead for printing my book. Pirotta Press Ltd (mine) is now a client of the fabulous Lightning Source with the capability to arrange for Happy Tango to be printed either in the USA or in the UK according to the order point’s location; I’m hoping that this will mean that my book can be listed on Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk and thus, be easily accessible to you guys all over the world; it still has to be set up of course, but I’m optimistic — other clever people have achieved it, and I am determined to follow in their footsteps! Now though, my book is in someone else’s capable hands, and I am waiting for a cover design before I can start the next phase, the marketing. I’ve got a bit of work to finish too: the 100ish words to go on the back cover. I’ve written them, but am still sweating on whether they truly convey the content and voice of the book. Aargh! It’s that horribly painful and pointless affliction, perfectionism, all over again.

Meanwhile, I’ve got a bit of time and so the question is how to use it wisely, and avoid any unnecessary fretting. Here’s five things I’m doing to make the most of my life situation, right now. If you feel like you’re waiting on something in your life today, perhaps they might help you too.

  1. Resting. I’ve worked hard on the book and I’m shattered. I’ve at last had the healing Chinese massage that I’ve been promising myself for months, and I’m plotting a trip into the Sierras of Córdoba. I’ve got space in my life for a short while and I feel like I want to expand it and luxuriate in it.
  2. Dancing. It’s why I came to Buenos Aires, and somehow, with Happy Tango in the bag (sort of) I feel the pressure is off on all things tango… I no longer have to think about what I’m going to say about it, I can just concentrate on enjoying it! I actually accepted a milonga tanda with a stranger at La Nacional on Saturday night, and it was the best milonga I have ever danced in my life: I think both our hearts were thumping afterwards. The music was electronic (and super-fun), my body was unbelievably relaxed (maybe it was the Chinese massage), and I think my friend TangoCherie might have been a bit concerned that I was going to explode with excitement. I confess I’m not the discreetest of people to share a table with at times — when it comes to celebrating great tandas, I do tend to bubble over like a cauldron of freshly-mixed magic.
  3. Exploring the city I’m in, all over again. The early autumn weather is crisp; Feria de Mataderos started up again after its summer break; the Rosedal park is full of roses in bloom… there is much to be re-discovered and discovered, and I have only two months before I will be in England for a while. Gotta make the most of it then, yeah?
  4. Doing at least one action from my ‘things I love list’, every day: coffee and yummy cake in Baraka, writing a blog post or writing anything at all, vacuuming the flat, riding on a colectivo, touching the plants on my balcony, buying a bargain dress or a flower to decorate a dress in the local markets… small is beautiful in every one of these special pleasures.
  5. Clarifying and growing my list of the things I want in my life (and I use the word things very loosely in this case). It’s over three years since I chose to live a path of the heart, and over a year since I chose to live. Bloody hell. Doesn’t time zoom when you are having fun? On my journey I’ve learned to dance, to speak a foreign tongue, to love two lands equally, to love. I’ve kept this blog going, met kindred creative spirits all over the world, written a book. I’ve found out that I can live in one room with another person and very few possessions and rarely have a cross word, sleep without a soft toy (sometimes), do absolutely anything. I’ve experienced much, but I want to adventure more. That’s why I have a dream list, an intention list, a ‘build the life I want’ list: ever changing, ever growing, full of passion, and these days, without limits.

This morning, feeling slightly impatient and wanting to find a way out of that, I started writing about ‘the wait state’, but I now realise, that it is not a wait state at all… just time. I can choose to endure it, or I can choose to enjoy it. A no-brainer I reckon. This afternoon then. The milonga of Alicia “La Turca” in La Ideal, my loyal milongueros who treat me like a princess, my friends, pizza after. Can waiting get any better? I reckon, no.

Then there’s the fact that I sometimes feel I waited 43 years for the moment that changed my life and gave me the chance to try this one. And in this life therefore, there can be no waiting, only living. I don’t think God is trying to teach me patience at all. I think he’s trying to show me how to enjoy the now.

Share

Tags: , ,

Brit back in Buenos Aires

September 19, 2009 in Expat in Buenos Aires, Live your dreams, Sallycat back in the UK | 21 comments

imgp6010I’m getting used to a yet another new laptop. This time though for the first time, it’s a Mac. I got it in England and it’s fab because Me and Barbie can have all kinds of fun making iMovie videos of Me and C. dancing (thank you to you 250+ lovely people who watched us this week). It’s also amazing because I never have to wait more than about 5 seconds for it to wake up and be fully functional, downloading things like printer drivers just isn’t necessary, and apparently I don’t need anti-virus software either (is that really true?).

There’s only one thing I don’t like about the Mac, and that’s blogging on it. I don’t know how you other bloggers do it but I love to work offline on a page that looks like my blog page, with a slick interface that allows me to manipulate text and photographs to exactly where I want them: I like to see how the finished article will look as I type it, then publish with zero surprises. I had all that and more with Windows in a neat bit of software called Windows Live Writer, but since Windows is in the name, as you can imagine, it ain’t available on the Mac (well, not without installing Windows on the lovely Mac, and no, I just can’t bring myself to do it!). Damn! I’ve searched around, and I’ve found something called Blogo, but it just isn’t the same. It’s ridiculous I know, but I haven’t wanted to blog this week because I haven’t wanted to get to grips with this change in my blogging life.

Starting over as a result of change is always tough I reckon. Doesn’t really matter whether it’s a new laptop, a life in a new land, a return to a life in a new land after a fabulous holiday in your old one… Two weeks after I left Terminal 5, the image of my parents’ two beautiful white heads bobbing into the distance is continuing to punctuate the less than perfect sleep cycles of my nights, I’ve had Argentines telling me that my Spanish sounds wooden, and my dance partners have been asking me why I’m not as relaxed as I was. This week I’ve had massive urges to spring clean the apartment, clear clutter (not that I have much), and re-organise my living space… I’ve listened to my soul, done it all and so begun to re-shape my Buenos Aires life – not into my old one as it was back in July, but into a new one coloured and influenced by my travels and the things I found out about myself while I was journeying. But what have I learned this time around, on my round trip to England and back again? Let’s see…

I need a comfortable and inspiring space of my own in which to think, write and create. I need it to be in a place that keeps Barbie wide awake and feeds my spirit with creative energy, and fresh and brilliant ideas. That’s what Buenos Aires does for me… Me and Buenos Aires, Buenos Aires and Me: the noisy, dirty, vibrant, killer creative combination and being back this time around, I feel it stronger than ever. For some reason I know that breathing in Buenos Aires can lift me towards the peaks of my dreams.

I need belief, patience and commitment where those dreams are concerned. The edit on my book is part way through back in the UK and I am waiting for the result. It will be a few more weeks. Meanwhile I must investigate and enable routes to market… to me and Barbie this is the the boring part, but it’s no good having a cracking book if I can’t sell it, and so I must take advantage of the time I have, and get my business head on. I must decide on the title too, and that’s a challenge. The book will be worth the wait, but oh how I long to see it being useful in the hands of a tango tourist who doesn’t know me, or even one who does!

I need in my possession a full and large bag of Galaxy Caramel chocolate, tins of Heinz Baked Beans, Cadbury’s Crunchies and Drinking Chocolate, Sainsbury’s marshmallows, Pledge disposable (attract the dust) dry dusting cloths, J cloths, Superdrug bargain face wipes, Blistex lip cream, Bisto gravy powder, the Guardian, iTunes vouchers so that I can download British TV programmes or books… oh and my absolute favourites: giant red boxes of Lindt Lindor red spheres. A cry from an English soul, Anyone coming this way from my mother land please bring just one of one of these things with you, especially if I’ve answered some of your questions about Buenos Aires or carried tango shoes for you. Oh and another cry… IKEA (which may be Swedish but is a British institution nonetheless), when oh when will we see you in Argentina?

I need to have people in my life who understand my Britishness. I have Brit girlfriends here and I’m grateful that I do. And C. has seen my England and can chat memories with me into the early hours: him building sandcastles on Whitesands while I slept on the pebbles he’d flattened into a bed for me; seeing where Carlos Tevez used to sit in the Manchester United dressing room; marvelling at the stunning mix of buildings around the Birmingham Bullring Shopping Centre… this final UK 2009 Flickr photoset tells our complete English tale.

I need Wild Love (thank you Gill Edwards). I need to be able to speak the truth in my relationships: hold my mum’s face in my hands and tell her I love her, tell a friend that I was sad that he was not there, tell another that I sense sadness in her soul, tell myself the truth that I need England in my life – my roots, my safety net, my past, my family, and my friends who didn’t leave me when I left.

OK England I’ll admit it, in the past few years I’ve been desperate to leave you, terrified to leave you, terrified to return to you, desperate to return to you, ambivalent about you, nostalgic about you… and now it seems, accepting of you and loving towards you. It is true that I don’t want to live in you right now, but it’s a complete and utter joy to visit you, remember you and celebrate that I will always be yours and you will always be mine.

The pain of goodbyes, my rusty tango body, my wooden Spanish, my non-desire to blog. They’re all transients in my life and will pass. But England? No, my friend and my country, you won’t. And at last, I find that I’m delighted to say so.


Share

Tags: , , ,

Yes!

August 30, 2009 in Diary of a Tango Dancer in Buenos Aires, Live your dreams, Sallycat back in the UK | 38 comments

IMGP5634 A few short years ago when I was around forty years old I thought I knew what happiness was: I called it peace of mind.

Basically in those days I sought calm between my ears: a clear conscience born of both doing my best to be good and being grateful for what I had; no major money worries; life ordered and under control. Occasionally I’d allow my soul to speak on the page – and judging by the poems that it penned, it was very angry and rather sad. Funnily enough I called the style of my poetry ‘my voice’, but I didn’t listen to it at all – just carried on writing anger from the inside, kept life on the outside in the pretty English countryside as untroubled as possible, and believed that on the days when my mind was without too much anxiety, I was happy.

Thank God I had it all wrong.

These days peace of mind can come along for the ride if it wants, but I’m settling for nothing less than pure, unadulterated joy! And last Saturday, in a community centre in the Shropshire town where I was born, people who have known me since I first walked on this earth, saw with their own eyes that I have at last claimed it for myself. Indeed I was brimming over with it… shining eyes occasionally welling up; a grin that did not care about showing every one of my crooked teeth; an open heart that wanted to chat to strangers and friends alike all night long.

The circumstances? Pretty bloody brilliant as it happens…

P1070346 On Saturday morning, in the kitchen of my childhood home, the love of my life, mi amor C. asked my parents (in the most adorable Spanglish you can possibly imagine) for my hand… and my Mum hugged him tight and said, Yes! A thousand times, Yes!

On Saturday night, in the auspicious glow of his own joyous Golden Wedding celebrations, my Dad announced to the assembled guests that to his delight, Me and C. would be tying the knot as soon as Argentine bureaucracy allows. Later we danced for all 111 friends and family present – Café Dominguez (D’Agostino, tango) and Pobre Flor (De Angelis, vals): it felt like I was floating on a cloud with an angel. Afterwards people sought us out to congratulate us, tell us how we’d conjured magic and tears as we’d danced, shake C.’s hand, welcome him into the family that I love beyond words.

So joyful circumstances? Oh God yes!

And at last, at the grand old age of forty six I finally know I’m ready for them.

How do I know it? Because for the past three years I’ve left the quest for finding peace of mind in my wake and have instead been following my heart in pursuit of joy. My journey so far has led me from Hampshire, England to Mongolia to Argentine Tango to Buenos Aires to Carlos to this moment back in Shropshire. As I’ve travelled I’ve learned that joy isn’t about circumstances or places or other people, though of course they can be beautiful bonuses along the way, it’s about being true to myself and saying yes to the longings of my soul… if I do that, then of course I’ll feel joy: my soul will be connected with what it needs to thrive. Plus, in reply to my own efforts, the universe will respond by putting in my path the stuff that can help me in my quest, even when it’s stuff that I might never have imagined (or thought I wanted) in my wildest dreams for myself.

When I look back to the days before I’d heard of Argentine Tango, I’d have considered it utterly ridiculous even to fantasise that in 2009 I might be living in Argentina, marrying a darling of an Argentine, receiving warm and rapturous applause for my dancing from an English audience, standing on the verge of publishing a book for tango tourists… ridiculous, impossible, dreamland type stuff. But it wasn’t was it?

A few sweet and delighted people have lovingly used the words fairytale ending (referring to my bit of a climb from less joyful places) to describe my forthcoming marriage to C., but of course both they and we know it’s really just the beginning of a whole new Sallycat’s Adventure isn’t it? Or at least it’s simply a moment on the way that marks the start of the next chapter in the tale you’ve been reading on this blog since my very first entry in January 2007. I reckon it’s a damn happy moment though, whichever way you look at it.

So by way of recording this latest step on my path of the heart, here are a couple of photos of me celebrating the story so far, dancing with C. for my family and friends last Saturday night.

I don’t know if you can see it. Carlos felt it. I felt it. The audience saw it. Somewhere in there, at the very heart of what it’s possible to capture on camera, is love.

IMGP5654-2

sal y c 1 

Tango will change your life, my teacher said to me at my first tango lesson. It sure as hell has hasn’t it? And to every single change it has brought me, I am shouting loud and clear across the world to you all today, Yes, yes, yes!

And guys, I will be absolutely over the moon if you join in.

 

Sallycat

 

Photo credits for the black and white close ups go to a lovely lady called Anne, who managed both to capture our expressions in the exact moment that my dad told the world our news on Saturday night, and to take the first ever decent pic of me dancing tango with C. where I am not wearing a coat. Thank you Anne.

(I know some of you asked for a video, and I’m working on it. Alas my little sis didn’t make it to the camera in time to get a whole dance… but if I can salvage something from somewhere, I will.)

Share

Tags: ,

Pink

May 22, 2009 in Diary of a Tango Dancer in Buenos Aires, Live your dreams, Sallycat - the writer within | 28 comments

This is going to be a short entry. I need to be a bit strict with myself this evening about knuckling down to the final stages of my first draft of the bigger ebook project and not procrastinating by writing too much else. However in the interests of being truthful on the subject of nearing the end of a writing project (well, the first draft anyway!), yesterday there was a bit of VOD in the mix right on queue: oh you can’t say that, oh you can’t leave that out, oh you can’t put that in, oh it’s too tricky to get it right, oh why bother anyway… and so today I decided I MUST wake Barbie up, and get her firing on all cylinders because in the battle against the VOD, she is my saviour every time. I will point out that this is big progress, to actually know how to counter the VOD… I am very determined now, that he will not get the better of me.

This morning I decide not to sit indoors at the blank page because I know that is what VOD wants (so he can beat me up a bit), and instead I set off into the unexpectedly hot sunshine of this late May day to carry out a piece of research for the ebook (thus I am continuing to walk forward), and have some spontaneous fun in the process. I’m making for DNI at Bulnes 1011. I guess you all know DNI is a pretty famous Buenos Aires school of tango nuevo; I’ve never taken a class there, being a bit more traditionally-hearted in my tango – for now at least, but mates of mine have and speak highly of it; Bulnes is their new location; they have a store selling tango shoes and clothes; I want to go and have a chat with them, and check the place out.

On the way, to shake Barbie awake I decide to take three photographs of things I see that make me smile. Here they are:

Yellow leaves

Blue flowers

Spires

Once at DNI, the girl on the desk is delightful and she lets me wander all over the building by myself… it’s an old building and has a kind of welcoming rambling feel that I like: lots of stairs, light, fresh air and people dancing on wooden floors. After my wander, I ask the girl to open the shop for me and she does. We chat about classes, prices, how everything is currently based in Bulnes because of the renovations in Corrientes… I ask the price of the women’s shoes. I decide I will try some, just to see if they are comfortable, because I want to write about them and so I need to know. I never thought of buying shoes from DNI before – actually I think women’s shoes are quite a new thing for them. Anyway, apart from 2×4alpie, where I am going next Saturday, I don’t think I have tried on a more comfortable pair of tango shoes. And in the end it turned out, after much help from the lovely girl and a few other friendly folk who wandered in and out, and a visit from one of the cutest dogs I have ever seen (and I am a cat person not a dog person) that they had a pair that fitted me like Cinderella slippers in size 36.5 and that were pink. They were $340 pesos (currently a pretty reasonable price for a Buenos Aires famous name tango shoe) and because I haven’t bought shoes since 2007, and because the Commes I have are now too high and cause me too much pain, and because I have promised myself two pairs of tango shoes that I can actually dance in without needing to take Ibuprofen for the next 5 days… I bought them. Comfort! Fit like a glove! Pink patent leather with bright yellow insoles! Spontaneity! Barbie! Down with VOD!

Me and Barbie decide to celebrate with a Pepsi at a pavement cafe in the sun and end up splashing out on a delicious sandwich of aubergine, tomato, mozzarella and basil. I decide to FORGET how many pesos I’m damn well spending and believe for a moment that there is enough abundance in the world for us all, and to eat some of it right here right now!

Healthy stuff

While we eat we pull a book from our slightly grubby and very loud pink and brown flowery bag. A friend sent me this book from England. I start to read it.

At page 35 I start to cry: I am reading about ‘The hero’s journey’ and The Call to Adventure (perhaps the wake up call), and the book asks me if I have faced my own Call to Adventure, and if I have accepted it. I realise I am crying because I know, I absolutely know I have, and that I am on exactly the right path: suddenly I remember who I am, and how I am living my dreams, and keeping the pen moving and my feet dancing, and taking life as lightly as I am able to in this moment and SOD bloody VOD!

By now, I’m afraid Me and Barbie are in the mood to dance down the escalator to the Subte at Scalabrini Ortiz, we get a seat, we smile at everyone we see, we race home to write our blog thus clearing the way for the bigger project over the weekend and all the other super things we have planned: birthday parties and farewell parties and the absolutely fantastically special second anniversary of Me and C.

I’ve got a few things to thank for this perfect day:

  1. Me. I’ve learned what wakes Barbie up: spontaneity; getting out there and exploring lovely friendly, warm, spacious feeling places; taking photos; anything pink.
  2. My UK mate who was in BsAs, who goes by the gorgeously funky name of SurfFlower, who in connection to this little tale, used to enthuse about what a friendly place DNI was… she was right, and who sent me the book whose page 35 made me cry with joy today.
  3. The universe for providing Buenos Aires with unseasonably high 31º temperatures in late May that called me from my blank page, into the world of research, and walking, and feeling alive.

So to give something back, maybe you’d like to get to your page 35 too. I recommend it. If so, here’s what you’re looking for:

Just wild and true

Wild Love by Gill Edwards.

Oh, and if you want to see the shoes Barbie bought, well, check out the DNI store page here, and find the pink shoes at the bottom. I did try the gorgeous princessy violet ones in the top picture too but alas none in my size, which sort of led me to the pink. But Barbie wanted pink.

Oh, and I know the entry wasn’t short in the end, but it came out fast and true… which more or less amounts to the same thing. Now I’ve cleared the clutter, and I can get back to work!

Happy holiday (25 de Mayo in Argentina, Bank Holiday in UK) weekend to you all, and to ‘your Barbies’. Trust me. Go buy yourself something in your Barbie’s favourite colour tomorrow; even if it only costs a dollar, I guarantee it will make you smile. ;)

Share

Tags: , , , , , ,

« Older entries

Blog Widget by LinkWithin