“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.

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.