“Friday night and the lights are low,
ABBA – Dancing Queen
looking out for a place to go”
March 15th 2019
It was a Friday night, and I certainly wasn’t a dancing queen. Frustrated and exhilarated in equal measure I was leaving the tango social dance (milonga). Not dancing was the plan, but still, I felt an emptiness walking toward the exit.
My second outing introduced me to the emotional highs and lows of tango.
Woody Allen and 80%
Two weeks after my first class I was excited to go again. My friend wasn’t joining me this week as he attended a higher level class. The plan was to meet him later at Carablanca milonga.
“80% of success is turning up” as Woody Allen once said. As a musician I live by this quote. Having met many dabbling musicians only a few actually turned up to rehearsals regularly. Those who did, went on to perform at gigs where all sorts of serendipitous things would happen and opportunities would open.
In tango I wasn’t exactly sure what success would be (still not sure of it now), but I knew that consistency of showing up would be key, as it is in so many other facets of life. At the very least, I’d be learning something new, and that alone felt worthwhile.
Clarity gained by blogging but no journal notes for 6 lessons
Committing my thoughts to public is requiring me to clarify, organise and structure ideas, bringing fuzzy thoughts to the forefront. This allows me to critically examine and refine them, which in turns helps my own understanding. This is a process I have done on my professional tutoring blog for several years.
Blogging and journaling was not my plan at first. And my first journal entry wouldn’t be until May 3rd 2019, missing my first six lessons. In any case, “You don’t know what you don’t know,” phrase comes to mind. What would I have written about, anyway?
But I do remember the feelings: the awkwardness of losing my own balance, let alone being able to absorb and handle my partner’s wobbliness while she was in heels, the thrill of partnering with someone whose energy clicked with mine, and those small but significant breakthroughs. That became the main purpose of my journal and is still mostly true today: a way to process and document my emotions throughout the learning experience.
Skipping the most important 15 minutes of class
Back to the class, I was running late so I skipped the 15-minute trial session before the main class. This session had group solo drills led by both instructors. This trial allowed newcomers to decide if they wanted to stay on for the whole class, and there was a brief pause for an optional chat with Kim for those wishing to leave. I assumed this ‘starter’ wasn’t essential and skipping it was ok.
I got that one so wrong!
The main class felt like I’d walked into a movie halfway through, completely missing the setup at the start. My partners had to fill me in on the basics, and I spent the rest of the class playing catch-up. I quickly realised that those first 15 minutes weren’t just an optional warm-up; they were the foundation for the entire lesson.
Change of weight – surprisingly difficult
After warm up and more solo drills we were paired up to practice leading a change of weight with various partners. My job was to shift my partner’s entire weight to rest on one leg while doing the same with mine. Then, I had to reverse it all. It seemed simple, but my brain was burning from cognitive overload and social pressure. I had to manage my own weight, hers, and maintain the movement in a smooth and connected way—all while dealing with the fear of not feeling like a fool in front of my partner. In salsa, this weight change was never lead, as each one of us changed weight ourselves on cue. Tango seemed like a different beast already.
Things felt even harder when my partner seemed tense, or maybe it was me being too polite in my lead, lacking clear intent. Each partner was different so the lead had to be personalised and tweaked to suit. I paired up with a woman much taller than me. David, the instructor, asked the ladies to close their eyes to focus on the feeling of being led. This helped me as well. I relaxed when she relaxed.
After some failed attempts, she gave me feedback: I needed to apply more force in a smooth rather than abrupt way. But she also questioned herself if she needed to be more sensitive to my lead. It felt unnatural to be forceful, but when I got it right, it was really satisfying. The height difference soon didn’t matter as we tuned into each other. I really appreciated the tutoring I was getting from her. Leading, despite its pressures, felt great!
Bottling the class practica and escaping to milonga
The class ended with David and Kim coming on to centre stage for a dance together. Some students started filming and I was still a little confused if I was supposed to film. I wondered if they were filming to capture a memorable performance or if there were any bits of the lesson within the dance they may learn from later. If the first fifteen minutes were the ‘starter’ then this was the ‘ender’ of the lesson. Their dance was very nice to watch and along with the melancholic music it made for a relaxing experience, especially after the stress of leading.
After the demo Kim made some announcements and then the short freestyle practice started while people also paid for the class. I hesitated to ask anyone to practice again. Most women were either packing to go home or were on the dance floor with someone else already. I had missed my chance. Just as well, even after two weeks I wasn’t sure what I was going to practice anyway.
On the whole this class was less stressful than the first and I was starting to settle in. I left the class to meet my friend at the milonga.
An even more magical milonga
After grabbing a quick bite, I entered Carablanca and asked to be let in for free as a non-dancer. I entered the magical kingdom of a milonga. Tonight was even busier and more vibrant.
I joined my friend’s table, surrounded by students who warmly reminisced about their own beginner days. An enthusiastic Argentinean struck up a conversation. “You’re already at a milonga after just one lesson?” he asked, impressed. It was then that I learned a social tango event is called a “milonga.” Later, I’d discover how few Argentinians in London actually learn tango; I’ve only met four in total.
The dance floor looked busy and colourful tonight with beautifully dressed dancers. I got myself a Tom Collins cocktail again and sat at the table, chatting with dancers as they took breaks between their dance rounds. Someone had to entertain these dancers during their breaks and I was happy to take that job on. Though I did feel a strong urge to dance, I was no stranger to salsa clubs and felt I could go out there too.
Invitations I Wanted To, But Couldn’t Accept
There was a lovely woman with long dark hair and a warm smile who I was chatting to. She invited me to try out the dance floor by walking on it together. My heart leaped at the idea, but fear kept me frozen in my chair and I sadly declined. She was on the dance floor with someone else soon enough and I was relieved.
Another woman was bubbly with a somewhat wild and carefree energy, she invited me to dance but again, I felt the fear. People on the table came and went from their dance rounds while I was there for a good 2 or 3 hours. The wild lady was back, probably after 1 or 2 cocktails herself, and asked me to just have fun and be relaxed about hitting the dance floor. I almost joined her this time as she was so convincing and enthusiastic. She then suggested I join her as a follower instead but I had no idea how to follow either. I later saw her leading and was impressed she could do both roles so well. By now I was getting stressed at constantly saying no to dances with dancers I did want do dance with.
“Well, I will be dancing plenty when I am in Buenos Aires for a few months” I overhead the wild lady say to her friend. I thought she was either out of her mind or a professional dancer to go so far just for some dancing.
As the night wore on, I realised coming to a milonga without intending to dance was a mistake. It was frustrating to receive invitations and be unable to accept them. I felt determined to learn this dance well enough to hit the dance floor in the future.
I put on my smart jacket on and walked briskly to the door. I noticed women glancing as I left, perhaps at the drifting opportunity of a dance with me, which made me hurry even more. It was a surreal experience and I knew I had to return one day. It would be weeks before I found the courage to return to another milonga.
And as for the wild lady who was going to Buenos Aires. Well, nearly five years on from that night I was sitting on a plane to Buenos Aires for that exact same reason. Just for some dancing.