Ok.. I will admit that my logistical genius went all cactus-shaped after Iquitos. Saw the team off for what we all thought was a day stop in Buenos Aires, but turned out to be an overnighter... worse things can happen! (Sorry about the bed bugs, but you know... no trip to South America would be complete without them) This is The city of the Stop Over..better shopping than Singapore, better music than Cuba (hmmm, maybe that´s over-stating it) and better dancing even than was displayed in our school hall camp on Kel´s birthday. If it´s any consolation to the team, my situation arriving in Argentina was worse.. which could be karma or possibly just crappy logistics caused by jungle fever and excess humidity.
The prospect of 7 days in the Big Smoke (and it is BIG BIG smoke), where people speak a Spanish far too rapido and technico for me... all alone and without a decent pair of heels to spin around the bars and nightclubs was not exactly filling me with delight. Especially when I could have been paddling up the creek on butterfly hunts, or drinking pina coladas by the Amazon, or swinging in a hammock until I got sick. Add to that a very nasty cold brought on by either the monkey that bit me, or the one that vomited all over me, or the guy next to me on the plane who drooled on me.... and I could admit that Buenos Aires was not initially my idea of a great way to end the trip.
But then I found tango!
It was an act of desperation, which is usually the way I end up on the dancefloor. But now it´s an addiction. Like orchids. or cafe lattes with chocolate on top. I wish the girls were all here to learn what is surely the sexiest, coolest, most romantic and naughty of all the dances. It would be so much more fun with our little gang of chicas, but I have had three lessons already, found the gorgeous but broken hearted guru of Tango and tagged about town watching him dance sad and beautiful with unknown women after his true love left him... so very tango!! ... and tried not to sniffle and sneeze all through what feels like an art house movie here in Argentina.
Tango has had a dramatic effect on me. I am suddenly totally disenchanted with my travel wardrobe which does not boast a stitch of lycra or a single sequine (let alone a blood red lipstick or glitter eyeshadow). I am over flat shoes! And blondes. And going to bed before 3am. Tango clubs start at midnight, but the cool people seem to arrive around 1am, and then dance all night, sipping water at tiny little tables in funky clubs tucked away in the remnants of once grand marble floored ballrooms, or secreted in red walled and water damaged dens above anonymous doorways with buzzers. The women are either flat out gorgeous in sexy skirts and bling, or flat out gorgeous in jeans and t-shirts. Everybody looks amazing. Everybody has a sort of ´´tanglow´about them.. it seems to be the afterglow of their transportation to another dimension in the dance. They are totally absorbed in body to body communication, the music and the magic of the dance... of course, it´s not 100% exactly even vaguely close to that when I am at school, or when I´m practicing the steps in my room. But it will be one day.