Tango… who knew?
The somber face of a blond older Argentine woman greets us from behind her counter on the ground level of Confiteria La Ideal very close to El Obelisco of Buenos Aires. The whole place is an antique and the counter is tall and it looks more like a priest’s altar and it’s made of some old looking wood that like all of the decorations inside the building manages to retain its shine and beauty intact since the 1910s, the era in which this place was founded.
Me and my Canadian ladies had gotten there in time despite fears to the contrary. As a matter of fact, we were 15 minutes early. Just a while before we had gotten distracted gazing upong an ocean of Palermo houses, complete with the high tidal waves that are the random high rises, from the bridge of a tall ship that is the rooftop of Amy’s rental flat in Plaza Güemes where Gabrielle and myself watched in desbelief at the 360 degrees unobstructed view trying to recognize in which direction was our house, or the Botanical Garden, el Rio de la Plata…
We made our way up the stairs and into a large melancholic, decadent and beautiful ballroom with tall ceilings and extremely decorated brass lamps glowing yellow light.
We were greeted by a man wearing a tigh black shirt with matching black pants and mustache and ponytail and for a moment there I felt like I was watching an slightly obese but kinda blond Ruben Blades… or the president of Nicaragua Daniel Ortega if he ever wore nice smooth clothes and learned to comb his hair.
As he approached us, I quickly let him know that we were looking for a table for three to what he replied “I’m the dancing instructor and the ballroom will be ready soon, where are you from?”. I replied with my ladies’ place of birth followed by my own and soon we were seated at the very edge of the ballroom, zipping on malbec and watching old couples dance Milonga. These old lovers gave it all and were frequently trying to outdo each other and from the looks of their frames it was impossible to predict the grace and speed of their movements. As I sat down I was still embarrassed to have mistaken our instructor for a waiter and because I was the only person wearing sneakers. Amy’s big bright brown eyes and huge smile were shinning with joy and anticipation and the three of us sat and waited for our first serious Tango lesson to begin as her rays of happiness descended upon us and made my soul feel warm.