Back in the Saddle Again!

I went dancing again last Thursday night after two weeks of feeling like crap. And then today I went to the last afternoon outdoor milonga for the season at Union Square.

It is such a nice feeling to be dressed up, feeling the energy flow through me again and the anticipation of getting onto the floor, and moving to the music with my eyes closed. The only good thing about being sick is that first real day when you realize, Wow, I feel really good right now.

I had a sweet connection with someone at La Pista, and I look forward to dancing with him again. His musicality was wonderful and I think we were both pleasantly surprised with each other within a few seconds of starting our first dance. In between songs, he told me I danced like a Porteña. Which to me was a great compliment.

He asked if I had ever been to Buenos Aires, and I answered, Yes, last year, and he said, Oh, that explains it. And then gave me one of those nice little squeezes that says, Yes, I'll keep you.

We danced two tandas together and then I danced once more tanda with him before I went home. During the breaks between songs, we shared our experiences at Los Dinzel, the tango school/studio in Buenos Aires where we both were fortunate enough to practice and dance with the amazing teachers there.

The Dinzels are revered teachers who have taught many other wonderful dance teachers, one of whom is my lovely teacher Roberto Riobo. When I met the Dinzels, I could immediately see their influence on him and where he developed his style of teaching and expression and feeling. The other teachers there were so open, kind, and enthusiastic about our dancing, no matter what level we were at. And my favorite, darling young Gabriel, who spoke no English and had me put an "X" on a tiny map to show him where San Francisco was, I shall never forget. I cannot listen to Caceres' "Tango Negro" without thinking of him and the most perfect milonga I have ever danced in my life.

Please, please go to the Dinzel studio someday if you treasure your tango. Walking down the narrow sidewalk, flanked by rough stucco walls, entering the courtyard with dancers from all over the world resting wherever they can find a seat and having a sip of water in between lessons, the tiny rooms covered with old posters, newspaper clippings and fading photographs, and the worn and warped floors (still amazingly perfect for any tango shoe), will make you feel that you have entered a sanctuary made just for you.