You’re no good for me, I don’t need nobody Don’t need no one, that’s no good for me
The Prodigy – No Good (Start the Dance)
From the moment I began learning tango, it was clear that Buenos Aires is central to this dance in a way that no other city is to any other dance I’ve encountered. In salsa, there are various styles – New York, Cuban, Colombian, and Rueda – but there’s little focus on its history or any one place that represents its essence. Tango, however, is different. Buenos Aires is the symbol, source and even pilgrimage to tango as I found out on my second tango class.
Buenos Aires was often mentioned by my instructors, with a kind of reverence and nostalgia of their time there. It was the place where tango’s rhythms and movements were born, where the dance grew up and evolved.
Never say never. In Buenos Aires with tango friends from the Tango Lounge in January 2024.
This connection to the city felt even more authentic thanks to David, my instructor from Argentina. His approach to teaching felt like an authentic transfer of knowledge directly from the source, like I wasn’t just learning steps but a tradition handed down through generations.
As I continued to learn in those early days, Buenos Aires tango travellers told me their own tales, where you could find the heart of tango itself and buy great dance shoes too.
I had no interest in going to Buenos Aires however, as I wasn’t into tango in that much depth then. Tango classes were serving as a hobby, skill and socialising activity.
It’s murder on the dancefloor but you better not kill the groove, hey-hey, hey-hey It’s murder on the dancefloor but you better not steal the moves
Sophie Ellis-Bextor – Murder on the dance floor
The line of dance is sacrosanct in tango and navigating the dance floor is the leader’s responsibility. Maintaining this line of dance was another skill I had to learn alongside the actual dancing itself, placing even more cognitive load on my very limited working memory in the early learning stages.
Note : Cognitive Load Theory [John Sweller, 1988] is completely unknown in tango teaching. It is well known in mainstream classroom teaching and has profound implications in teaching and learning. I will define and clarify its connection to tango learning in a later blog post.
Line of dance – couples in an orbit inside the room
In tango, couples don’t dance on one spot, instead they follow an anticlockwise ‘line of dance’ around the room. This line, or more accurately, a closed loop, expands to fill up the perimeter of the room. Most rooms are rectangular, so there are 4 actual lines (or line segments if we are going to get into Euclidean geometry) and 4 corners. The overall ‘line’ can be circular or oval as well, which typically happens on a bandstand. At a milonga there is often a concentric inner line of dance along with the outer line of dance. Some dancers go into the centre where there is no line of dance at all. It is the Wild West in there.
Tango line of dance in a rectangular classroom. Good students don’t dance in the centre, ever.
In David and Kim’s classes we were told that drifting into the centre is what bad dancers do. And no one wanted that label! David was militant about students maintaining the line of dance from day 1 and corrected me every time I accidentally drifted into the centre. May God have mercy on those who end up there, (Spitalfields outdoor milongas especially). I ended up in the centre many times at milongas, but please don’t tell David.
To keep us all in line in class, there was a great training drill where beginners walked solo around this line of dance, maintaining sufficient clearance to avoid bumping into each other. Much like cars on a motorway. This was great practice for when we would be partnered up.
Navigation – tango is a dance on the move
There is no navigation as such in salsa social dancing, couples stay on their islands of the dance floor and stake their claim to that space. There is some navigation in New York style salsa as it is more linear, but salsa dancers generally move freely within their island. Both salsa leader and follower are equally responsible in keeping the clearance safe and peaceful between neighbouring couples. Salsa dance floors get more crowded than tango ones, yet collisions are less frequent, possibly because both dancers are responsible for safety and couples dance in one spot mostly.
In tango I couldn’t stay dancing in one spot with my follower. I had to either stop the dance and relocate further ahead (awkward and not musical) or integrate the relocation within the mechanics of the dance itself (hard!). I also had to be aware of the entire line of dance in the room.
Responsibility for the follower’s safety is a huge mental burden
The structure of the line of dance was supposed to make life easier. But that was most definitely not the case in the early days as leader. The burden and cognitive demand was really significant, for three connected reasons:
The safety of my partner. Followers are encouraged to keep their eyes closed, even from day 1 of the class, therefore they have to put a lot of trust in the leader. 90% of my mental energy was taken up in making sure my partner did not bump into anyone else, or the wall or nearby furniture. The responsibility for someone’s safety is a huge one and I took that seriously. Followers do have some responsibility of their own safety I feel, particularly when a line of dance is chaotic but that’s a topic for another time.
I didn’t know how to ‘dance away’ to a new location. Sometimes by luck or fluke, I could twist the routine spatially to keep the overall movement going in something vaguely resembling the line of dance.
If I didn’t move with my partner into a new space, I would singlehandedly be responsible for holding the entire line of dance. Not my partner, just me. That’s an insane amount of pressure, just one leader can cause a traffic jam for the entire line of dance.
A few sessions in since starting tango I had underestimated even its simplest rudiments. Murder on the dance floor? Well, it certainly felt like it when the line of dance collapsed.
As much as the stress of navigation troubled me, I did like the almost army like marching structure of the line of dance. This gave order to the whole class and a community sense of everyone dancing as a collective.
“Friday night and the lights are low, looking out for a place to go”
ABBA – Dancing Queen
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.
David and Kim (Tango Movement) end of class demo in March 2019.
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.
“Let’s dance, put on your red shoes and dance the blues.”
David Bowie – Let’s Dance
Gazing out from my Patagonian cabin on a warm February day I saw a crystal blue lake, an expanse of water making calm white noise as the wind gushed past gently. I realised then that it was the tango that had brought me to this remote corner of the world—a journey of self-discovery and travels. What had begun as a weekly hobby in London five years ago had turned into an obsession, consuming most of my free time.
From the very beginning tango was an emotional rollercoaster like no other. After every group class and milonga (tango social dance event), I would jot down my thoughts on the tube ride home. I intended to publish some of these reflections on a little corner of my personal blog but never followed through—until now. Inspired by Ben Lovejoy’s Tango learning blog and a recent tango immersion in Buenos Aires, I am finally committing to sharing my story.
2019 New Year’s Resolution – The Salsa plan and Tango switch
On Facebook and Instagram, I joked that my new year’s resolution was eating more cake. The real resolution was to start dancing again.
By serendipity—or more like people’s love of sugar—the two resolutions combined when I started eating cake with my tango buddies. But I’m getting ahead, more of this story will come up in the future.
2019 certainly got me started in tango! Photo by tango movement.
I last danced regularly in 2009, salsa, and a lot had changed since. I had gradually moved to tutoring online from tutoring in-person, and by 2017 I was fully online. This transition was fantastic, offering a full-time income, better lifestyle and more flexibility. However, it also led to weight gain, back problems, and a lack of real-life socialising.
My body missed the movement and endorphin high of dance so going back to salsa was a natural choice. But I disliked salsa teaching in London and felt that classes were random, inconsistent and taught mostly by part timers. It wasn’t the way I wanted or liked learning.
I met up with my old salsa friend and over drinks he explained that he had stopped salsa and had started tango instead. He suggested I give tango a go as well.
1st March 2019 – My first ever tango class
“We better rush off to the class” my friend said as I nervously finished off my pint at a pub before heading to a basement studio of a large gym complex near Russell Square in London.
We bumped into an elegantly dressed lady at the reception. Her black dress matched her dark hair in an Audrey Hepburn style. My friend introduced me to her and mentioned I was there for my first lesson. Her friendly smile calmed my nerves somewhat. But internally I was a little mad at my friend for not telling me about the dress code. I was in jeans and a t-shirt, while the lady, who I presumed was a student was dressed the part as a professional dancer. My friend was in a work shirt so he was looking smart and I felt I’d be well out of place.
She turned to be one of the two teachers of a tango teaching (and real-life) couple, the Argentinean David and the English Kim. The rest of the class were dressed from smart to casual much to my relief. I was wearing my every day shoes which I found out later were not suitable tango shoes but were ok in the short run. I didn’t really know what qualities would be needed for tango shoes since salsa was ok in normal everyday shoes.
We did some steps on our own for the first part of the class. I remember doing some side steps and also walking back and forward. The rest of the individual technique stuff I don’t remember. It looked similar enough for salsa and I picked it up reasonably well.
We were then paired up as partners. Again, I do not remember much or what routine was involved or even if we were doing a routine. It was a complete beginner’s class and I was just trying to get used to socialising with each round of new partner and figuring out what I actually had to do. It was what I now know as open embrace and a practice embrace.
The music came on and the atmosphere changed, it was flowy and sad sounding. Not the happy, bouncy salsa stuff I was used to. There was something deeper in the music but party music for a Friday night it most certainly was not!
Suddenly the class dispersed without any notice and the instructors did a little a dance together. Some people were filming it but I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to film it or not. I don’t remember salsa teaching being filmed but that was pre-mobile phone camera era. This dance ended the class and there was a bit of partnered practice time while people also queued up and paid for the class in cash.
I felt like I should practice as well but was too shy to ask anyone to dance. So I just watched my friend and other people practice. Everyone seemed to be practicing something different so I couldn’t tell which bit of the class lesson they were practicing. So I was mighty relieved I didn’t have to practice something I didn’t even know with someone I didn’t know.
“I doubt if I even understood 5% of what was covered in that class” I told my friend as we both walked towards the milonga (tango social event). My brain was burning but it was a good type of burn. The type of burn when the brain is processing new and valuable input into it.
A ten minutes walk took us to Conway Hall in Holborn. My friend asked for me to be let in for free as I was just there to watch and not dance, which they kindly did. And so I entered my first ever milonga.
A magical milonga – spellbound by social dancing
The Carablanca night. I entered a romantic and nostalgic atmosphere. A hall with soft lighting, subtle mix of perfumes, colognes and a faint smell of wood . It immediately warmed up a cold March evening. Tables and chairs were arranged around the wooden dance floor with murmurs of conversation and laughter. People were also observing dancers, waiting for their own turn to dance.
My friend took me to a table with his fellow tango dancers and introduced me to them. After a bit of chatter I went over to the makeshift bar and got a Tom Collins cocktail. I sat back and soaked more of the ambience in.
I was completely in awe, like being on a colourful Ted Baker TV ad or a film. This dance floor was nothing like a salsa dance floor, it was far classier and refined. Women wore stylish dresses with intricate designs and high heels, while men generally dressed smart, with many in suits, dress shirts and trousers.
Evocative, hauntingly beautiful sounds of orchestral tango filled the air. Unlike the class earlier there was a much wider variety of music; sad, passionate, nostalgic, melancholic and some bouncy, happy tunes.
The dancing itself took centre stage. Men with almost puffed up chests with ladies in their arms. Many of the ladies had their eyes closed in complete bliss while the men had stern but sort of relaxed faces (I know this sounds like a paradox but tango is tango). While the dancers did execute some moves, overall they didn’t look busy ‘dancing’. Mostly gliding on the dance floor smoothly like swans or tai-chi masters.
There was a sense of anticipation as the tango music stopped and a new dance round started. People chose their next partner somehow. I was told it was through a subtle eye contact ritual called the ‘cabaceo’, which I wasn’t able to spot.
Or was I? Diagonally opposite and on completely the other side of the dance floor my eyes crossed with a blonde lady in an elegant white dress. They crossed maybe twice again during the evening but I wasn’t sure if they really did or I was just dreaming this up. The Tom Collins cocktail had kicked in after all.
Things were active on my friend’s table anyway, a couple of generous ladies asked if I wanted to join them on the dance floor and do the tango walk together. A wave of nervousness passed through my body, I was just a plain old non-tango civilian! I would have disappointed both my partner and the many onlookers. A part of me wanted to be bold and go for it but the shy part won. I was grateful that the ladies would even consider me. In any case I had missed my chance and they were soon dancing with skilled dancers. I breathed a sigh of relief as they had escaped my non-existent tango dancing skills.
There was a mixed age crowd there, including dancers easily in their 60s and 70s. I liked the idea that I could keep dancing the tango for some decades. There was a young crowd too but it was clear that the median age in tango was higher than that of salsa.
As it approached midnight I decided to catch the tube (London underground) home. Tonight had convinced me to come back again which was a result. I had tried a Ceroc class with social dancing years ago and had never returned to it. For the next class I would miss a week as I had a maths pre-conference social the Friday after. My next tango outing would be in two weeks time.
