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Published: October 22nd 2007
It is now 3am, I have just gone to our local milonga* (after a prolonged homeward journey described below as cultural experience number 3) and discovered it closed. The others have gone to another milonga further afield, but I can't be bothered heading out again. (For those of you interested in tango, Palermo is the place to be for young people dancing more experimental tango. San Telmo, where I am staying at the moment, is more traditional.) I haven't finished doing my Spanish homework for tomorrow yet, nor practised nearly enough for my next tango lesson, but I just have an urge to share my experiences with you at the moment.
1. On Argentine men
Argentine men are indeed the womanisers they are reputed to be. A lot of them anyway. If they are interested in you, they will let you know, and if you don't respond to their attention, they will just move on to the next person. Most of them dance well and they are drop-dead gorgeous, so I don't know why they have to be so forward---at least for foreign women who are not used to their culture, they would have a lot more success if they took things easy. I am going to share with you some of the things they said. Hopefully they (and you) won't mind.
Example 1 - Sergio
At our first milonga together, Sergio caught my eye and asked me to dance (the traditional way: not by speaking to me, but by staying seated and raising his eyebrows and tilting his head a little). We had another dance (strictly speaking, a
tanda, or set of dances, but I won't bore the rest of you by going into tango etiquette here) together later on in the evening while the live band was playing (this time he walked over to ask me, because there was some confusion over who he was looking at earlier, and the woman next to me got up because she thought she had been invited). At the end of the evening, he came over to say goodbye and asked for my cellphone number. I gave it to him, because it's always good to keep in touch with the good dancers so you can go somewhere together and be guaranteed a great dance.
The next day, Sergio sent me a text message letting me know he would be going to La Viruta (a milonga for young people, which runs till 5 or 6am and which is where the others are at the moment). Because it was far away and I knew I could dance with him the next day, when he would be teaching before the milonga at Porteño & Bailarin, I didn't bother going.
Porteño & Bailarin was our second milonga together, and Sergio was eating with friends when I arrived. We chatted together for a bit, and he suggested we dance, not now, but later on in the evening. I was disappointed that he didn't ask me to dance until towards the end (perhaps he didn't see where I was sitting, but more likely it was because he wanted to dance with his friends or better dancers first). It felt like he had been avoiding me somewhat, so I was surprised when he came over to say goodbye, kissed me close to my mouth (I turned away a little, so it could still pass for a normal goodbye kiss on the cheek), and whispered in my ear 'Oh, you are so beautiful!' I nearly fell over backwards and literally knocked into the table behind me.
Our third milonga together was at La Viruta, and after our first dance, Sergio kissed me on the eyebrow and tried to keep embracing me between dances, as he had done last time (normally, you are supposed to chat a little at the start of every song). I pulled away and he said 'I like you a lot.' I told him that I had a boyfriend, to which he replied '¿De qué?' (So what?) I tried to make small talk, but all he wanted to do was look into my eyes. Fortunately, I had friends with me, whom I hadn't danced with yet, and I made excuses to dance with them. At the end of the evening (or rather, morning), I told him I was leaving with my friends, and he said 'Are you sure you don't want to come with me?'
I didn't hear anything from him for a couple of days after that, so sent him a text to find out where he would be dancing. He wrote back 'Me gustas demasiado. Bailar con vos me deja con ganas de besarte', which I took to mean 'I like you too much. Dancing with you leaves me with a desire to kiss you', after first thinking he was giving me an ultimatum. I told him to get over it, and he thanked me and said goodbye.
That evening, I went back to the milonga where we first met, but he was not there. Instead I got flattery from Javier (example 2 below). Sergio never told me where he would be going again, and I did not ask. I bumped into him again though today, at a milonga far away in the suburb of Belgrano. I wasn't sure whether to pretend I didn't know him, but he smiled and said hello, and even introduced me to one of his friends. When she went away, he really went over the top with his flirting, repeatedly saying 'Dame un beso' (Give me a kiss), holding my hands (we weren't dancing yet) and coming closer and closer. I wondered how far I could walk backwards before I walked off the rotunda. When I talked about getting many mosquito bites at the open air milonga, he said he knew of a trick to stop them itching---he could kiss the bites on my leg and they would stop itching straight away. No doubt a technique discovered on the spot. Works every time.
I asked him why Argentine men were so aggressive. He didn't think they were. 'I would never make you do anything you didn't want to do.' He suggested we go for a walk in the park, which I turned down. It was hard enough trying to keep him away from me in full view of everybody.
We only had one dance before the tanda ended. There was a pause, in which Sergio said he liked me again.
'How many people have you said that to?' I asked.
'You are the only one,' he replied.
'Ever?' I raised an eyebrow.
'Well, this month', he said. 'That's pretty good, isn't it?'
After that, a tanda for chacarera (a folk dance) came on. I don't know how to dance chacarera (sometimes they play salsa and rock too), so I ran away. Didn't get to dance with Sergio again before the milonga ended, and as there were no tables and people kept moving around, didn't get a chance to say goodbye to him either. Probably just as well. I wonder what lines he will come up with next time.
Example 2 - Javier
Javier is another good-looking
porteño**. He looks like a model (deep-set eyes, high cheekbones, pointy chin) and I thought he was 18 before he told me he was 27. Remember those compulsory chatting moments at the start of every song? He asked me whether I always dressed so well for a milonga and gestured with one hand down my body. At the end of the tanda, he said he thought he would go home, as he had had a great dance with me and didn't see a reason for staying longer. He also asked me if I had arrived alone. I had, but fortunately, some others from my hostel had arrived by then, so I walked over to them and introduced Javier.
He danced with the other girl at the table, of course, and I overheard her giving him our address. I don't know what else he said to her, but one question was apparently something to the effect of 'Do you want some company in your room?!' He also asked the guy at our table how he ended up with two beautiful women, and gestured kissing his fingers after motioning down our bodies again. It's incredible, the things they say and do.
Before he left, Javier left me with his email address and told me to write to him. He also gave me the details of the next milonga he would be going to. The other guy commented that the reason he didn't give me his mobile number was probably because he has a girlfriend.
Other examples
The other girls at my hostel, who dress better than me and wear make up, obviously get even more attention from the other sex. The Danish girl whom I went out dancing with tonight told me how at one milonga, one guy, instead of kissing her goodbye on the cheek as is customary, kissed her full on her mouth (he held her head so she couldn't turn away, then had the cheek to say he wouldn't force anything on her)!
2. A Boca Juniors game!
I don't know anything about soccer, but I went to a Boca Juniors match today, Boca Juniors vs. Estudiantes de La Plata, a home game in La Boca. Jose Luis, our well-connected
porteño friend, had procured tickets for us the previous evening. As he wouldn't let us take anything valuable with us, I did not have my camera with me to take photos. I wish I had brought it along---it was an experience I really want to remember.
Jose Luis gave us the official blue and yellow shirts to wear, then we took a bus to La Boca, along with other fans in blue and yellow. It didn't seem threatening when we got off the bus, but Jose Luis told us to stick closely to him. Apparently, he had been robbed of his shirt once, and had his pockets emptied of money by little kids. My Spanish wasn't good enough to understand how it happened. We were surrounded by people walking to the stadium, so what could go wrong?
We queued up at the gates after first drinking up our bottle of water, which wouldn't be allowed in. Us girls were let in without a fuss, while the guys were patted down. We walked up through stairs stinking of urine to the cheap seats down the end of the field. The Estudiantes fans were on the roof, and we were one floor below, which was great because the sun was unbearably hot. To the left, we had the more expensive seats; opposite us were members of a club called something like the 12th player---apparently it is dangerous to sit with them, as they are a drunk and rough bunch who will steal your things; to our right were the corporate boxes including Maradona's right in the middle.
While we waited for the real game to start, junior teams were playing. The atmosphere was amazing, with people singing (I wish Jose Luis had taught us some songs beforehand), shouting, clapping, jumping up and down and shaking their hands at the players. Some men walked around selling iceblocks and Coca Cola. A woman on the roof of an apartment building outside the complex was hanging up her washing. It was a beautiful sunny day.
Then the field was cleared and giant ads were laid out. As soon as the sexy cheerleaders with pompoms came on, people stood up, and we stayed standing for the entire game. As it was Mothers Day, the mothers of the players walked onto the court, and the players gave them flowers publically, filmed by the television crew, with a photo shoot afterwards. Then Maradona appeared in his box and waved to the crowd, and everyone started singing about him, no doubt something rude. Some people threw streamers and confetti, which fluttered in the wind.
At 4:10pm, it was time to begin. It was hard to see what was going on because all the players had navy shirts and shorts. The main difference was that the Boca Juniors had yellow socks while the Estudiantes had navy. The shirts were only slightly different, with the Boca Juniors having a yellow stripe behind the number at the back, and yellow instead of white writing at the front. The Estudiantes scored almost immediately---did the goalie even realise the game had started? The swearing was incredible, and the fact that it was Mothers Day did not stop mothers from being used in their vocabulary. Jose Luis tried to cover my ears.
The score was still 1-0 at half time, when we could finally sit down for a little bit and watch the cheerleaders shaking their butts at us. Throughout the game, we saw lots of mistakes, fouls which resulted in the referee holding up a red card, an injury which had the medics running onto the field, followed by a little buggy which wasn't needed, and a spectacular kick which involved a player flipping over 360 degrees and hitting the ball with his feet straight up in the air. Finally, with something like 20 minutes to go, the Boca Juniors got a goal. Even louder singing and shouting, whistling and screaming. People jumped up and down and bobbed up and down comically on the far side. There were drums and trumpets playing.
After the game, which finished with a score of 1-1 (there was no board showing this, you just had to keep track), we went and sat by the gate and waited for it to open. They let the Estudiantes fans out first, to make sure we won't meet them and get into a fight. When we were finally able to go, I felt like herded sheep, with people pressing into me from behind and on either side, forcing me down the urine-covered stairs (gross!) After that smell, it was great to be out in the open again. We walked back to San Telmo, as the chances of getting on a bus or taxi were slim, and it was not far anyway. What a great day. What a great experience.
3. A taxi drought most unusual
After the match, I returned to my hostel and met with some people at 8:30pm to go to an open air milonga called La Glorieta. There is an open air milonga just three blocks away from us in Plaza Dorrego too, but the floor is not so nice. We took a taxi, and danced in Belgrano till just after 11pm. Going back to San Telmo was a problem, unexpectedly. We couldn't find a taxi in 20 minutes in a city where it usually takes less than 2. What taxis drove past were already full. We walked up several blocks to a main street in the hope that more taxis would drive past there, but again, any that passed was already occupied, and what was worse, the street corners were full of other people waiting for a taxi. Even if an empty one came along, which was looking unlikely, it would no longer be free by the time it got to us.
We decided to sit in a cafe and snack a little, to give time for the people to disperse. Christopher, one of the hostel people who has just moved out, assured us that he had been to the milonga before on other Sundays, and had never had a problem getting home. Could it be because of Mothers Day? After having pizza and drinks (where in New Zealand could you get that after midnight?), we headed out onto the street again. Still no luck. Some girls pretended to do a strip tease to get a taxi. Others ran towards a taxi which might be free, to make sure no one else would get there first. A number of taxis diplaying the 'libre' (free) sign drove straight past us, though we had stuck our hands out. After 1am, we finally managed to stop a taxi. The driver wanted to charge us 50 pesos to get to San Telmo!!! That is more than double what we paid to get to Belgrano, using the meter.
We gave up on the taxis and caught a bus which seemed to go in the right direction (number 152 to La Boca turned up at 1:30am). We should have done that hours ago. It was standing room only (four guys who ran for the bus weren't let on), but it took us within a few blocks of where we wanted to go, to a milonga near Parque Lezama. It wasn't until we got to the milonga and saw people sweeping the floors that we realised it was too late. The milonga finished at 2am, over a quarter of an hour ago. I enjoyed the walk though, after all that standing around waiting for taxis. Actually, there were heaps of free taxis by the time we got off the bus, but it wasn't worth it taking one just for a few blocks.
And so I am home, and the sun has been up for over an hour now. Good night.
* A
milonga, for those of you who don't know, is a social gathering typically to dance tango. It is also a type of dance, but I don't mean that here.
** A
porteño is a person from Buenos Aires (person of the port).
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Stephen D
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Sarah ????
Sarah.. sometimes you do surprise me... when will you be realize.. you are a BABE!!!! I'm sure I speak for the community of Kiwi Tangeros when I say that we are not even a little surprised that you receive such attention... If I were a medico.. I would be more worried about the men who did not make amorous advances towards you.. And those men probably don't even yet know that you are also a lovely person, a wonderful dancer AND a very intelligent young lady... So please stop being surprised... And could you please change that silly tag line on your blog.. the one that says "Just a boring person trying to be less boring" Sarah - and again i speak with confidence of behalf of all of your friends - darling you are anything but boring. Muchos Bessos en Brazzos Stephano