Category Archives: Tango orchestras

Barcelona: Palau de la Música Catalana

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Barcelona is home to one of the most beautiful concert halls in the world: el Palau de la Música Catalana. The Palau is one of the most brilliant examples of Modernist architecture anywhere. Absolutely stunning! I count myself very fortunate to have seen it, and extra lucky ’cause I got to see a fabulous Flamenco performance there as well.

The first modernist “curtain wall” is about 5 stories tall: a compelling contrast of modern and traditional. Catalan modernismo was a very local, very Barcelonesque architectural movement which had its roots in the industrial revolution of late 19th century Spain. In Catalonia the modernist movement went even further and developed a local style and personality, sprung from the Renaixença, the Catalan language and cultural renaissance. Modernismo was a natural response to the unprecedented urban industrial development occurring at that time, and not just in Spain, but all over the developing world. Like the recycling of Barcelona’s waterfront for the 1992 Olympic Games, the Barcelona Expo of 1888 created a big push to update and urbanize the city. This artistic movement became known as Art Nouveau in Europe. Smart people argue about when and where Modernismo (or Art Nouveau) originated, but by the Paris Expo of 1902 it was everywhere.

Designed in the Catalan modernist style by architect Lluís Domenech i Montaner, the Palau was built between 1905 and 1908 by a local choral society, the Orfeó Catalá. I find it amazing that a humble choral group became a catalyst  in the Catalan Renaixença.

Aren’t we in Middle Earth? Isn’t this Olde Elvish design?

                                                 la botiga — the gift shop

Oooh, if this isn’t the place to go for silk scarves and handpainted silk fans… gorgeous and very pricey! And loads of exquisite glass and ceramic items, jewelry… plus a whole room of art books. Truly just a light veil separates heaven from earth!

Midnight blue silk rosette fan… stunning!

It’s anybody’s guess what the ceiling motif is all about… silk fans? giant moths? flowers? Well, guess again… the book I brought home from the gift shop says they’re open tulips. An unbelievable fantasyland of the decorative arts! Everywhere you look are forms and shapes taken from Nature with a capital N. Catalan artists created their own language of symbols inspired by organic shapes and patterns from the natural world: birds, butterflies, leaves, flowers, not to mention fantastical animals and people. Like when you cut an apple in half crosswise, what do you find…? a star! Of course these photos are only a hint, a glimpse… you’ll just have to go see for yourself!

the dark blue windows are just what they seem… evening sky

The Palau has been called a “box of light.” Can you imagine the hours of work that went into creating the colored glass, the mosaic and crystal ceilings? In Catalonia, the middle class saw in the new architecture a way of placating their unconscious anxieties about modernization. All those noisy, dirty, annoying machines, motorcars, trains, foundries spewing smoke, steam engines… the transition from old world to modern world was kind of stressful back then, and these days, with exponential change by the nanosecond, I guess we’re still running on that same treadmill, trying to catch up to a world that keeps on moving just out of reach.

a wildly fabulous facade

Yet the Modernist movement was also a way for people to express their Catalan identity and spiritual roots, while displaying their newly-acquired bourgeois sensitivity to culture and the arts.

are you wowed yet?

not quite a full house, but a most appreciative audience

The Orfeó Catalá, from its humble beginnings as an amateur choral group, went on to produce concerts, symphonies, and operas, like Richard Strauss directing the Berlin Philharmonic, Camille Saint-Saëns, Herbert von Karajan, Igor Stravinsky, Pau Casals… and, in more recent times, Leonard Bernstein, Mstislav Rostropovich, Zubin Mehta, Manuel de Falla, Ella Fitzgerald, Norah Jones… and the list goes on! The Palau was recognized in 1997 by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site.

Ella Fitzgerald

Ain’t she wonderful!

The rich decoration of the façade of the Palau, using elements of Spanish and Arabic architecture, blends harmoniously with the building’s structure. The exposed red brick and iron, the mosaics, the stained glass, and the glazed ceramic tiles give a feeling of openness and transparency. An enigmatic group of sculptures symbolizing Catalan music on the corner of the building keep watch over a busy corner, just a few blocks away from the Plaça Catalunya.

sculptor: Miguel Blay

Prancing horseback Valkyries at the tops of columns frame the stage, while goddesses in bas-relief emerge from mosaic walls, each playing a different musical instrument. It’s wild!

musical muses decorate the stage interior

How can I transition to Flamenco after the Palau? A herculean task, and after all I’m just a girl! But I can testify that Catalans love their flamenco!  I’ll just post a couple of photos so you can get the drift… an evening of Flamenco at the Palau:

passionate, fiery!

The raw emotion of Flamenco, the dancer giving her all, the singer spilling out his guts, the complex rhythms which take you over completely; you are imprisoned, enthralled!

the power of Flamenco, like the surging ocean

When a dancer locks in your gaze, you can’t escape… even your breathing syncs with the dance; the compás of cajón, tacos, palmas and your heart; the singer pouring out her soul, the melodic complexity of the guitar that takes you far away…. the clicking of the castañuelos carved from ancient rosewood… Flamenco is insurmountable! It’s a mountain and you’re walking up the narrow path… it’s the ocean and you’re a tiny shell tossed around on the waves. Flamenco is only rivaled by Tango in my universe of music addiction. This is a perfect segue way to Tango, but not tonight. It’s 3 am and this girl’s gotta get some sleep! Adíos, que les vayan bien! Hasta luego! Vale?

Ciao from Barcelona!

P.S.  I almost forgot to mention that I changed the name of my blog to Tango Awaits You. Why? Because El Tango Nos Lleva was all about us and our Tango travels, but now it’s about YOU, dear reader, about the possibility of Tango in Your Life! Yes, YOU! Tango is out there, waiting, it will never go away, it will always be there, ready to plug you into the endorphine-producing ecstasy of dancing Tango. You might as well get started now… why wait? And I decided to put the title in English, since lots, though not all, of my readers are English-speakers. Personally, I prefer Spanish, in fact they tell me I’m much friendlier in Spanish (like, not a bitch?), that I’m downright warm and fuzzy in Spanish, but this blog’s for YOU! My friends and family! So there you have it, Tango Awaits You!! And thank you all so very much for all your comments and emails. It helps when I feel homesick for California!

GO OBAMA!

Barcelona I

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We hit the ground running in Barcelona. Thanks to yours truly’s amazing sixth sense apartment locator, we lucked out and found a bright, spacious, modern apartment with a huge sunny terrace!  Three metro stops (3 different lines: the red, the green, the yellow…) within a few blocks: north, south, and east.

my Chef made himself right at home

The weather was perfect: hot, sunny, Mediterranean!

our Barcelona terrace on Carrer Árago

Barcelona became a modern city in 1992, when the Olympic Games put it on the world map and jumpstarted a major urban transformation. The world rediscovered Barcelona: a city teeming with cultural vitality, its peoples inheritors of a millenary tradition of open-mindedness and cultural tolerance. Africans, Jews, Arabs, Christians coexisted in the busy port, an early trading post on the Mediterranean, and they still live here side-by-side today!

Barcy harbor

Cristóbal Colón pointing west

Did you know Cristóbal Colón (in the states he’s called Christopher Columbus) returned from his third and final voyage to the New World in chains? Crazy as a cuckoo. They don’t tell you how, on his last voyage, his ship anchored off another uncharted Caribbean island, and he made his crew swear on the Bible that he had discovered yet another New World.

Barcelona Port building

This awesome structure is la Aduana, right on the waterfront. That’s where you pay your taxes on whatever you bring into the country… like all that silver and gold they stole from South America!

la Aduana – the Customs house

Yea, royalty is so high-maintenance! How come the rest of us gotta keep forkin’ it over to pay their keep? If that ain’t the rich folks’ Entitlement program, then what in the bleep DO you call it?? I know, I know, calm down, after all, somebody’s gotta pay the upkeep on these beautiful luxury yachts! They deserve to be maintained in the style to which they’ve become accustomed… don’t they?

that’s the Port Vell Imax cinema in the background

We decided to go on a Jazz Chill-Out Sunset Cruise. Our catamaran was more like a third world transport vessel: no luxury, no bar, and as packed as a feedlot.

yea, but we still had fun!

The aquarium is also right on the docks, right next to the Maremagnum. The Barcy Tango community hosts a milonga there called la Acuarilonga. How cute is that name? We danced till early morning one night under the towering rooftop, as a salty-sweet breeze caressed us and kept us cool.

The building in the background below is the Maremagnum, a huge 3-story mall where we tango’d one evening on the deck overlooking the water. My intrepid photographer Benjamín took this gorgeous shot:

the Maremagnum from the water after dark

and this one of the harbor:

how beautiful is that?

On our way back to the dock we passed a stunning sailing ship lit up like Christmas Eve.

so beautiful, like la Noche Buena!

Let’s let this tall sailing vessel anchored at the harbor plaza take us back in time to explore the oldest part of Barcelona:

don’t you just love the color of that water?

The oldest part of Barcelona is the Quartier Gótico, the Gothic quarter. Here medieval towers and churches cast long shadows over the remains of the early Roman city.

Roman ruins underneath the Plaza Real

a cántaro: a Roman era wine or water jug

We spent a long hour one afternoon winding our way around the raised walkways that skirt the various archaeological sites underneath the plaza. They excavated an entire block underneath the Plaza Real. You can see the old Roman baths, like modern-day spas, with separate men’s and women’s dressing rooms, hot tubs and lounges, workout areas… the vintner’s shop with grape-presses, tasting rooms… shops where fabrics were dyed in huge vats, and hides were processed… apothecaries… don’t forget your love potion No. 9 and poison for your enemies; hey! what about some sleep potions like Romeo & Juliet used? and of course they had all kinds of stuff for your bi-polar melt-downs and romantic delusions… all natural, and USDA certified organic!

they had horses and fashionable riding gear

The mosaic floors! The frescos! Man, those early Romans were interior designers! Their living spaces were so gorgeous, no sheetrock or aluminum trim in their neighborhood! Down under the plaza you can even see their old clay water pipes and sewers. Exploring the underground labyrinth takes time and energy, an hour at least, and when you finally glimpse the light of day through an open doorway, you’re on the opposite side of the plaza from where you started!

Let there be Light!

You emerge, not just into the sunshine, but time-travelling at warp speed a thousand years into the future!

back in real time… but how would you know?

This ancient portal could be your own personal time machine! If only those doors could talk….

portal on the Plaza Real

Right across from the museum entrance is a tiny little fan shop, packed floor-to-ceiling: all colors, sizes, materials from plastic to wood to paper to silk, adorned, unadorned, from plain to ornate, affordable to outrageous, cheap to elegant; in short, a fan for every woman!

flights of butterflies can’t compare….

Barcelona is a mix of all of these elements: the millenary history, fast-forward to twentieth century modernist creativity, mix in the personality of each neighbourhood — you’ve got a really special place. Barcelona is like no other city in the world!

Gothic quarter

simply stunning!

gargoyles like Notre Dame

A certain 20th century caped crusader really goes for gothic… Gotham City Chic. He probably took his first flight out of that tower… or maybe this one.

la torre gótica

Barcelona Cathedral

Barcelona has fabulous food, cafés, nightclubs, la Rambla… which is so crowded by day it reminds me of pedestrian streets in Buenos Aires, like Calle Florída, which used to be full of manteros, people who spread a manta (blanket) on the ground and pile their wares on top. After some violent clashes with local law enforcement, the manteros were driven out of the tourist zone. Things were a lot nicer and quieter, and you didn’t have to walk with your hands in your pockets to keep the pickpockets out of them. Barcelona has similar problems, but their street-hawkers have stalls and permits. Barcy, to its credit, has enormous recycling containers on every block. And like Paris, Barcy has public water spigots on just about every block.

typical Barcy street fountain

Back in the days before indoor running water, people filled their jugs and buckets and water skins every day from the public fountains. The Romans are generally credited with building aqueducts to bring water to where it’s needed; pretty cool idea! Arabs also have a history of bringing water into their homes, and they bathed a lot more than the Christians! Legend has it you could smell a Christian trading ship from way across the water, by the stink of the crew! Couldn’t they at least bathe in salt water?

Ahhh, refreshing! This beautiful fountain can be found at the Alhambra, the exquisite Moorish palace in Granada, in southern Spain.

OK, readers, listen up. I have to tell you there is so much to see in Barcelona, I just can’t squeeze it all into one post!  Tango shows, Flamenco shows, Gaudí, early Catalunyan art, the best milongas of Barcelona, the Magic Fountain…. and then there is our road trip along the Costa Brava, the Big Sur of the Mediterranean coast. So I’m going to close now with a sunset photo of the harbor… can you make out the statue of Cristóbal Colón?

Port of Barcelona

Ciao from Barcelona!

Spooky Milonga

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One evening in late June we jumped on a bus and rode it all the way down Rue Tolbiac, almost to the end, a block from the François Mitterand library. Looking for a milonga, we walked past the funkiest trashiest old building I’d ever seen. It had a medieval tower whose top was wrapped in netting… some kind of restoration? Keep the hunckback from flinging rotten fruit on passersby?

tower tour, anybody? Eiffel Tower it ain’t!

A set of windows on the 2nd or 3rd floor was painted into a giant gaping mouth with sharp monster teeth, waiting to devour anyone who dared enter. Silly us, we hadn’t yet realized that scary building was our destination!

Who’s hungry? I am!

We kept walking, not seeing any place that looked like a milonga. Around the corner the sidewalk sloped down to the level of the ground. There was a big chain link fence, a parking lot full of junky cars, graffiti everywhere, weeds, broken windows, trash… where the yada yada were we going?

colorful graffiti…

Ben spotted an opening in the chain link, with a paper taped to it that said Milonga Los Frigos and an arrow pointing to a trail leading around the side of the horrific palace.

boho chic?

We ducked under some trees and plunged into the semi-darkness of a shady overgrown courtyard slash/ abandoned side yard.

the spooky path

After a few steps we saw the twinkle of tiny lights through an opening in the brush. Three young people sitting around a card table came into view, smiling and looking completely normal. Could these be the demented gatekeepers of a horrific palace? Had we just entered the Twilight Zone?

We paid our €7 each. Apparently still having that deer-in-the-headlights look about us, the slim young Parisian (she spoke a little Spanish) led us along a dirt trail that led to the cobblestone patio and then, happily, towards what looked like a bar in a cave. Emerging from darkness into light is always a little confusing. We thought maybe the bar was the milonga, but she said it was just the bar, and so we walked past it (you could hear Billie Holiday singing softly) to yet another cave-like room on the ground level. By now we heard the music and saw open doors on a small wooden deck leading into — you guessed it — the milonga! Couples were dancing, and others sitting around small tables lit with candles. The ceiling was a series of stone arches paved with brick (we were right under the overpass) and the dance floor was, well, not great, but … what else do you expect at a monster’s ball?

trés jolie!

….and so we danced happily ever after in the remodeled troll cave. With French champagne in hand we toasted the classic sounds of Orquesta Sans Souci, Sexteto Milonguero, Canaro, Troilo, Biagi, Caló, de Caro, Pugliese, Enrique Rodríguez and other Top 100 Tango Tunes. We drank to bat caves, badger dens, rabbit warrens, hobbit holes and other warm snuggly hideaways. We danced underneath Rue Tolbiac, left bank of the Seine, 13th Arondissement, and we kept dancing until we dropped. Perfect, blissful, tango exhaustion: you try to pace yourself, but another favorite song comes on and a mysterious underground force compels you to get up and dance some more!

BOO!

Happy Halloween!

Sitges Tango Festival July 18 – 22

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warm tropical nights… milonga under the stars… the crowd watches a demo by Sebastian Arce & Mariana Montes

We carried the rain with us as we flew from from Paris to Barcelona one gray day last July. From the airport we drove through the midsummer drizzle 30 km south to Sitges. By sunset that evening the skies were clearing, though the wind continued through the night. In the morning the sky was still cloudy, but, intrepid beach-goers that we are, we walked half a block to the beach with our giant sunbrella and his & hers beach towels. After an hour the clouds had flown away north (to drench Paris again, no doubt, as they’d been doing all spring) and the day turned sunny and hot. Here’s my personal bodyguard testing the water…

the water is warm!!!

captured web photo… it actually wasn’t this crowded!

Known as the St. Tropez of Spain, Sitges is a small city known for its beaches, nightspots, and historical sites.  A wide boulevard winds along the Mediterranean, with cafés, restaurants (fresh fish! tapas! clams oysters mussels calamari, lobster…) beautiful old houses, historic churches, alcázars, plazas… tango on the beach, anybody?

white sands, white tie…

and Tango.

Sitges became a counterculture city back in the 1960s… and it still resonates hip and cool. One of the hottest gay beaches of Europe, too. Franco was still in power in those days, but apparently rebellious Sitges managed to skate by … or maybe I’m just desperately under-informed.

main beach and plaza

pretty tiled fountain

in the historic center

a beautiful old portal

I really go for historic buildings, and Sitges is full of them.

looks Art Deco to me

This retro wedge-shaped building was one of the landmarks I used to orient myself while walking around the old part of town. The streets are winding cobblestone paths, most not even wide enough for cars, and even though they mostly all lead down to the beach, it’s easy to get lost in the maze (unless you’re looking for the beach, of course). But since being lost is my normal state, I actually felt pretty much at home. Everywhere you look are restaurants, cafés, colorful shops and marketplace stalls selling tango-fashionable loose trousers, and loads of more pretty things.

Every day is market day in a tourist town, and the food on display was appetizing and delicious!

CJS pizzas (just say “CJ’s”)

the olive seller

CJS deli

CJS salmueria

a portal in the historic center

la Sirenita de Sitges

Our room in a small hotel a half-block from the beach overlooks a beautiful house, three floors, dazzlingly white walls with blue shutters, an intense cobalt blue (one of my favorite colors!) with a terracotta roof. Classic mediterranean. Sorry! I didn’t get a picture. But here’s a serene spot on the hotel terrazza, where breakfast is served till noon, and you can order drinks and/or snacks the rest of the day and evening.

Hotel Los Globos

If you’ve had too many mojitos you can just hang out and talk to the resident parrot.

Pieces of Eight! Pieces of Eight! Isn’t that one of the last lines in Robert Louis Stevenson’s classic, Treasure Island?  The Hotel Los Globos resident parrot-greeter talks and whistles loudly whenever anyone walks by. He seems really sweet, but then I didn’t risk sticking my finger between the bars. We humans always want to believe animals have thoughts and feelings just like us. I guess we just can’t imagine anything different, but… birds will be birds! And they have brains the size of a pea. Of course it helps if you use all the brainpower you have!

The afternoon we arrived we walked all around town. The main church is perched on a high point of the malecón, the walkway along the waterfront.

la iglesia principal

There was a wedding party outside the church, with lots of chic people standing around, waiting for the novios to exit. I felt like I’d stepped into an episode of La Reina del Sur, but fortunately there was no exchange of gunfire. I should have taken a few photos but, shy me, I didn’t want to be the intrusive tourist. Later, as we walked along the beach, we happened upon the sweet ending of yet another wedding! The couple was wrapped up in a big piece of  cloth which was then knotted around them, like a giant pretzel. Trapped forever! or so it would seem. A day of domestic mergers in sunny Spain.

Sitges evening milonga

The Sitges Tango Festival had world-class teachers: Miguel Angel Zotto, Sebastian Arce & Mariana Montes, Rubén & Sabrina Véliz, Sebastián Jiménez & María Inés Bogado  (winners of the 2010 Mundial de Tango in Tango Salón), Marcelo Ramer & Selva Mastroti, and Marcela Troncoso. All Argentines, all professional tango dancers and teachers. Miguel Angel Zotto was flying solo — he had a lovely assistant who was filling in for his wife, who had just given birth to twins! Way to go, Miguel! Nice guy, by the way, totally unpretentious, the way I like my tango teachers. <www.festivaltangositges.com>

Ensemble Hyperión under cover at the Jardines de Terramar

Classes were held every afternoon (no morning classes, thank you! you gotta sleep sometime!) at three locations, organized by the customary levels of beg-int-adv. (Or is that beg-int-tango teacher? ja ja) I took one class per day… my usual limit. Ben took lots… the Energizer Bunny. I took a DJ class with Gabriel Sodini, also Argentine. More of a chamuyo, really, a question & answer session, but informative. Gabriel is buddies with our old friend Gato Valdéz, who DJ’d the all-nighters on the beach, starting at 2 am, after the official milonga ended. What a fun time we had!!

the gala Saturday night milonga & show… fabulous!

I highly recommend this tango festival. Super location, super teachers, great shopping, cheap street food, tapas, fish… sun and sand… and reasonably priced classes!

dinner on the beachfront

Life is Good.

Ciao from Sitges!

Medieval field trip: Luxembourg, Gargoyles and Provins

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Luxembourg Castle

One fine day we left Paris for a weekend drive to Luxembourg. The french countryside is so very beautiful, so very lush this summer, on account of all the rain. Abundant greenness everywhere, though not as wild and untamed as the more remote places back home in California.

old path and steps in the river bottom, near the castle moat

The french are so neat and tidy, so meticulous! I thought only the germanic tribes were like that! We took back roads and drove through village after village, each one so perfectly cared for, so historic. Here you can see the juxtaposition of three eras: medieval, eighteenth century and twentieth.

which era would YOU choose to live in?

Downtown Luxembourg was bustling; people were eating, drinking, shopping, listening to music. A street fair was bubbling over one of the plazas, with entertainment and a huge yard sale.

kinda like Farmer’s Market in SLO

Every building is historic and well-tended. There must be hordes of worker-ants crawling around every day inside and out, keeping it all so perfect for us lucky tourists.

a quiet plaza in Luxembourg

Part of the old castle fits like a jigsaw puzzle into the natural rock formations carved out by the river a few eons ago.

some good hidey-holes there

this gorgeous building caught my eye

I stole this photo of Luxembourg lit up at night:

looks prettier without the skyscrapers

We found more old rock walls on our way back to Paris. It was like the family field trip minus the kids; late afternoon and we were hungry. We took the turnoff  to Provins almost by accident: it looked big enough to have a restaurant that might still be open on a Sunday evening. As luck would have it, we drove into a medieval village le plus belle de tout. A middle-eastern café was still open and quite busy. While throwing down hummus, pita bread and baba ganoush, I couldn’t take my eyes off the church across the street, where a diverse clan of gargoyles guard ancient stone.

parts of it are more vintage than others

Eagle gargoyle

Big Bird gargoyle?

Old Woman Gargoyle with Message

Porky Pig?

I give up: dog-dragon-gargoyle?

I thought maybe some of them were griffins but Wikipedia says griffins have the body of a lion with an eagle head. Gargoyles, as you know, are there to protect churches from evil spirits and other wandering disembodied bad vibes.

a goat gargoyle

I thought THIS was a GRIFFIN. WHOA!! Please note!! CORRECTION!! Our good friend Adrian from San Luis Obispo, who happens to be British which of course makes him an expert on cathedral decor, writes:  “Incidentally, the creature you have at Font St. Michel is a wyvern, not a griffin, since it has the hind quarters of a serpent – preferably with a barbed tail.” Oh my gosh I had no idea!! Knowing this could come in real handy, especially if you time-travel to the middle ages, or have a nightmare where a wyvern is going to toast you if you don’t answer the riddle about how his tail came to be barbed.

detail of Font St. Michel, Paris, Latin Quarter

Wikipedia sure has some amazingly curious articles on a host of obscure topics! Our wyvern doesn’t have a dragon’s head, but a lion’s. In every other respect it is undoubtedly a wyvern. This oddity is “a frequent heraldic device on British coats of arms and flags… A golden wyvern is believed to have been the symbol of the ancient kingdom of Wessex.”

a golden wyvern

So why are griffins part lion and part eagle? “As the lion was traditionally considered the king of the beasts and the eagle was the king of the birds, the griffin was thought to be an especially powerful and majestic creature. Griffins are known for guarding treasures and priceless possessions.”  I think I want one!

Provins church: note the older portions mixed with more recent

The arched doorway of the church in Provins reminds me of Notre Dame de París, but with way less fuss: broad strokes as opposed to devilish details. Compare it with the doorway of this catedral in the Gothic Quarter of Barcelona:

Barrio Gótico

And for more comparison here’s the lady herself: Notre Dame de París:

Notre Dame is famous for her gargoyles and her hunchback, from the story by Victor Hugo

Once you see one gargoyle, you start seeing them everywhere! Here are some from that cathedral in Barcelona.

A few gargoyles to protect from Dark Side flybys

Little Provins turns out to be a big stop on the European Medieval circuit…. remember the Renaissance Faire? This is where it lives. Time stood still here in 1429, when Joan of Arc went to mass accompanied by Charles VII.

Wow! She is one of my favorite saints… that girl really rocked the boat — and paid the price. My favorite, unforgettable painting of her lives in NYC, at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

St. Quiriace was built in 1160, partly destroyed by fire in 1662, and is pretty much out of service these days, you can’t even get a peek inside. But the vibes there are amazing; we loved it. Here is a statue of Joan of Arc in Paris, wearing solid gold armor. I can’t seem to find my photos of her; this is off the web:

correction: this one is MY photo of Joan of Arc!

St. Quiriace

Here I am at the doors:

yes, I go to church occasionally!

wabi-sabi detail

the watchtower next door

This is the old keep, or watchtower, sometimes called Caesar’s tower. We circled it.

Ben likes ancient rock walls too.

Provins is an amazing place, definitely the spot for all you history buffs. I couldn’t stop taking pix of the old houses, they are so beautiful!!

a busy corner in Provins

part of the old moat

How cool is that!!?!

a pretty country cottage

on the outside, a rustic cottage

On the inside… I’d be happy to decorate it for you!

the banker’s mansion?

City Hall or an official residence?

Provins is a living town, albeit a tourist town: how convenient. However it is located in the midst of some of the most beautiful countryside in the world! Its rolling green hills are like California’s wine country in spring. Just gorgeous. By the way, don’t get Provins, the town near Paris, mixed up with Provence, a wine-growing region in southern France, close to the Mediterranean coast: Marseilles, Aix-en-Provence, Cannes, Monaco. Not a bad spot to combine vacation and business: just ask James Bond!

Thanks to all of you for your emails, comments and likes. I really appreciate news from home. It helps me feel connected and not adrift somewhere in the universe…. sometimes I wake up and it takes a few moments to get oriented…. where the heck am I?

Next blog up: Tango Festival in Sitges, and fabulous Barcelona!

Au revoir, Paris!

Paris Street Art: meet Miss.Tíc

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Despite the incessant rain we blog along, my photographer unfazed. Apparently he and his camera are waterproof, just like our extraordinary street artist, Miss.Tíc.

Dangerous in every aspect!

What she really looks like I have no idea, but her spray paint alter ego is a stunner!

I only break hearts.

‘Go ahead and break mine!’ some of you out there in virtual hyperspace are no doubt thinking. Miss.Tíc must live in our Butte Aux Cailles neighhood!  That’s my hunch and I’m stickin’ to it. We don’t see her work anywhere else. In fact, my best guess is that she’s friends with local shop owners, because nobody seems to paint over her ‘graffiti.’ One of her best works frames a very popular local café:

One man hides another  …  Bomb Alert!

If any of you readers can render better translations, please send them in. My French is unpardonable and I know it!

Life passes quickly, but time slowly.

What the heck does that mean?  I think I get this one:

I’m on my moon time, so get lost!

My interpretation, probably way off. Miss.Tíc seems to go for sexy poster boys:

Desire is created in our secret gardens.

This one decorates the wall of another local café, just down the street:

That was a helluva day!

Yikes, I found out all about Miss.Tíc when I googled her just now! She’s famous!

that’s Life… it’ll pass!

“Born in Montmartre of a Tunisian immigrant father and a French mother, [whom she refers to as] an enlightened peasant,” Miss.Tíc grew up on the hill, Butte aux Cailles, “neighborhood of poets, painters and prostitutes…” (Hey, that’s our neighborhood they’re talking about!) Miss.Tíc came to be known for her street art; “she often refers to this district  in her works and performances.” (Wikipedia, my translation from the French)

another version

Miss.Tíc spent a couple of years in California in the 1980s. She must have been impressed with California style graffiti — God knows there’s plenty of it!  She returned to Paris after a devastating break-up, and around 1985 began to channel her feelings about life and love into street art. Using red and black spray paint and stencils, she uses random walls to frame her work. Despite no formal art training, Miss.Tíc’s self-assured and sexy heroine is knee deep in talent and expertise.

Miss.Tic’s cat?

“For years Miss.Tíc has bombarded the walls of Paris with her subtle and ambiguous stencils. And all this time, the owners of these same walls erase them….  So when we find one intact, it is a pleasure, a great pleasure …  You can find her works enhancing walls throughout the 13th – particularly the Butte-aux-Cailles neighborhood.”  (from www.missticinparis.com)

Each gives but who picks up the tab?  Miss.Tíc’s sketchy self-portraits, enhanced by sardonic humor, chronicle the feminine wisdom gained in encounters with the other sex.

You only love me in passing.  Her street-smart style playfully questions modern femininity, subjectivity, and sexuality.

Book of doubts. Notice how only one eye is behind the veil? How like a woman is that? and how interesting the oblique reference to veils. In the last few years Miss.Tíc has begun to create works off-the-street. I love the way she is beginning to use more colors to express her feelings!

Time is a serial illusion.

One should only declare love to love itself!?

Illusion is stronger than passion.

You make me dream… I better go back to sleep.

To the walls … let the art girl play!

If you told me of your thirst… is it to calm mine?

Bomb Alert! … Art Rock

Art and Life are one and the same!

We love you Miss.Tíc! Keep it up! Back to the walls! Women Artists United! We have Nothing to Lose but our Illusions and Delusions!

How does it feel to be posterized and put up on a wall? Hmmm, let me think … Fun!

Meanwhile, still looking for Dalí…

and keeping my eyes open for those divine moments when I spot Miss.Tíc on an obliging wall! And waiting for that magical Peugot to show up at midnight …

Ciao from Paris!

Catacombs and Celestial Spheres

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Paris is positively popping with Tango! Wednesday night we danced in Napoleon’s former hunting lodge, Chateau du Lac, on a pretty pond in the Bois de Vicennes. They call it the Milonga Imperial. I wonder if Napoleon ever danced here? Judging from his supersized ego, he was probably one of those unfortunate types who always seem to be dancing with themselves. Doesn’t he know it takes two to tango?

Napoleon hunting in the forest of Fontainebleau, 1807

I did manage to come up with a picture of Napoleon hunting… seems like he had a whole regiment tagging along. Wouldn’t that scare off the deer? If Napoleon had been the humble sort who took the time to make offerings to Diana, Goddess of the Hunt, he might have had more luck bringing home the bacon.

Diana, mythical huntress

No hunting at this la Milonga Imperial, only shy cabeceos. After three weeks in Paris we have danced at a variety of milongas. Paris Tango dancers are a friendly bunch, despite the language barrier. They seem to be quite as addicted as we are, and they come in all colors and flavors, the usual package mix, from beginners to…  well, let’s say experienced but not quite ready for stardom, with no plans to morph into instant tango teachers anytime soon — in other words, dancers just like us!

la Milonga Imperial

Parisians can milonga every afternoon and evening at a multitude of venues. There’s lots of milongas to choose from: at least 10+ choices on your average weeknight, and on the weekends, wow! <tango-argentin.fr> lists 0ver 80 milongas every week, a handful of which also have prácticas every day! At least half of these are what we call Matinee Milongas; from 4 or 5 pm to ’round midnite. Parisians don’t tend to milonga past 1, because the Metro quits running at 1:30. And don’t think you can just grab a cab if you’ve missed the Metro; you will definitely turn into a pumpkin or worse; ’cause cabs are scarce, except near luxe hotels. And soooo expensive. But evenings in the City of Lights… just amazing! Especially when atmospheric conditions fuse with technological genius… voila!

The nightly Paris light show is brought to you by an elite team of high tech engineers. Way to go Paris!

Tangueros here use some variation of the cabaceo; however, when it comes to dance floor etiquette… it’s the Tour de France! There seems to be very little interest in maintaining your own little bubble and going round and round in the bigger bubble. All evening long people are passing on both sides, bumping and bulldozing. Ben says it’s amazing they have as few collisions as they do; but then the French have always been good drivers. Unlike San Francisco and Buenos Aires, Paris motorists don’t try to run you down in the street!

Tour de France 2012

A rather swell 4-pc Tango orchestra played for 2 whole hours at la Milonga Imperial. I didn’t catch their name… blame it on my nonexistent French! I don’t savvy word one except merci and vin rouge. It’s a girl group:  3 women (bandoneón, piano, violin) and a token male (contrabajo). They were pretty good! Live music gets a star rating from us! We also like milongas with a good floor and great atmosphere: give those 2 stars. A bar, café or restaurant adds a star; and top-notch DJ’ing gets one too. Maybe we could create our own milonga rating system and sell it to TripAdvisor? Tango Tours R Us? Seriously, though, our friends in several Tango communities are going to be asking… what do Parisians wear to milongas? The answer is: Parisians dress more or less the same as they do in LA, New York, Buenos Aires, or your local dance studio… from boho chic to very elegant. However, no jeans were spotted at Napoleon’s chateau-restaurant.

Porte Saint-Denis

The other night we walked by Porte Saint-Denis on our way to Milonga 323. It’s an historic area full of beautiful old buildings. Porte Saint-Denis, built in 1672, was one of the gates into Paris, like the Arc d’Triomphe across town. It replaced a medieval gate built on the same spot by Carlos V in the 1400s. Milonga 323 has a good floor, but there were only 4 or 5 couples there. The organizer was a petit young woman with a mop of golden-orange frizz; she fussed over us like a hyperactive poodle! She seemed to be trying very hard to attract more people to her milonga. Apparently we missed a big tango event that same evening; thus the poor turnout.

milonga l’Esprit

Milonga L’Esprit has a crazy guy that dances in the center of the dance floor, although you couldn’t really call it dancing: he just bounces back-and-forth from one side to the other, and jerks his don’t-know-any-better partners around. I guess he’s famous cause we were warned about him before we left Buenos Aires! Yep, he exists! Probably wears an invisible shock collar so if he tries to leave the middle… Zap! Ouch!

There are plenty of workshops and classes around, and they cost plenty. We see a lot of PR announcing, for ex: Milena & Miguel, fabulous tango dancers and teachers, etc… but we’ve never heard of them. If you speak Spanish AND French, and dance tango fairly well, you could make a decent living in Paris! (Sorry, no sick days, holidays, vacation time or pension!) We’ve only met up with one Argentine tango teacher, Coco Dias. Reincarnation of Napoleon? Friendly guy, though, invited us to a private party and tango event but we couldn’t make it. Catch you next time, Coco!

Coco’s the Porteño in Paris

There are some darn good DJ’s in Paris. Some are really good (la Balbutiant, Casa de Tango, Milonga Imperial). What I mean by really good, is a milonga that sounds like the milongas of Buenos Aires. Like, the Tango Tunes Top 400. If you occasionally DJ, like I do, you know the drill. First, select your favorite tunes by your favorite orchestras, off the internet or your CD collection or your iTunes; next, you organize them, in tandas and cortinas, to make your playlist. Well, if you make up your playlist with your least favorite tunes by the same great tango orchestras, and put them all together into tandas and cortinas, that’s what I call the music at a not-so-good milonga. Lacking a certain passion, that essential flavor, el sabor del tango. 

Tango Passion

The tango scene is not the only Paris underground: there’s also the Catacombs.

going down?

We toured the catacombs a few days ago: so many bones and skulls piled everywhere, damp stone passages, very poorly lighted… that place gave me the creeps! Ugh! Spooky! You go down down down a spiral cement staircase, 134 steps down to be precise. Not nearly as attractive as these 108 steps in our building. No indeed. They’re dank, smelly, creepy. The bones are mostly laid out in a distinctive pattern, maybe you can guess it from these photos. Are we scared yet?

I’m goin’ in…

death procession

I’ve seen the catacombs under Rome and also under St. Peter’s, so I was somewhat prepared for it, (listen to me lie!) but what surprised me was how small the skulls are. My first thought was, OMG, these are children! But, passing each niche, punctuated by plaques writ or engraved on cold stone, and an occasional puddle underfoot — water dripping thru layers of porous limestone which underlies all of Paris — I finally realized that all the skulls were small, cause people were littler back then! And their average life span was about half of ours today.

Some of the quotations etched in stone are priceless, like the one about how death equalizes kings and beggars alike.

One of the workers at the Catacombs had been a prisoner for many years. During those years he came to be very fond of the view of the city from the prison. He was eventually released from bondage, and found work stacking femurs and tibia underground in the 1770s. In his spare time he chiseled the view of the city he had gazed longingly at for so long. He was killed by a cave-in; his final resting place the Catacombs.

the underground city

do you see what I see?

I was more than happy to climb up the 100 winding stairs and be back in the sunlight! We went to a busy boulangerie-café, had sandwiches and coffee and watched the world go by for an hour or so till we recovered from that subterranean nightmare. Ben kept making silly jokes, talking to the skulls, you know, like, hey, what happened to your brains? geez, you really lost your mind! The guy has a sick sense of humor!

After a couple of hours underground I was so over it. Here’s a cheery hasta la vista, baby!

Be seein’ ya!

Ready to climb the stairway to heaven? Back to the realm of the living?

this train is bound for glory…. praise the Lord!

Now that we’ve had a quick armchair trip to the underworld, how about putting the spaceship in reverse and heading up to the finer celestial elevations? Nothing like a little music to elevate your spirits in this earthly paradise.

Notre Dame

A few nights ago, a packed crowd at Notre Dame time-warped us back to medieval nights, thanks to a wonderful choir of all ages singing Bach’s Magnificat. There was musical accompaniment: several violins, contrabajo, tambourine, organ… really I’m not exactly sure because there was a crowd up there on the temporary stage, in front of the main altar. The conductor, a young black Frenchman, took care of business gracefully, dynamically, and with a reassuring smile. The thousand-year-old cathedral radiated sound like only a thousand-year-old stone and glass cathedral can do.  It felt like we were lifted up into space and touched down on the intergalactial mother ship, i.e., heaven! An unearthly celestial blue glow diffused over us pilgrims gathered to hear the choir sing Bach. Radiant joy pulsed through every single molecule I own. An awesome experience, 5 stars!

choir at Notre Dame

The Magnificat (also known as the Song of Mary or the Canticle of Mary) is a song of praise set to music. It is one of the most ancient of Christian hymms and perhaps the earliest hymm to Mary. The name Magnificat comes from the first word of the Latin version of the canticle’s text, which comes from the Gospel of Luke (Luke 1:46-55) Johann Sebastian Bach composed music for a version of the Magnificat in 1723. In 1724 he finished setting the canticle (i.e., the words of the hymm, in German) to music. Pretty awesome stuff! Ben took some nice photos.

stone reaching for the sky

We’re still having that tempestuous spring weather here in Paris. It’s been raining off and on for almost a week, and the forecast calls for more of the same indefinitely… maybe forever. That line about “springtime in Paris” is totally bogus. I recently discovered that Paris is north of Albany, Boston,  even Bismarck, North Dakota for chrissake! Cheyenne, Chicago, Denver, Montpelier, New York, even Seattle! Geez Louise! We had just enough warm days to figure out which milongas had functioning AC, and now we’re back to going out with jackets and umbrellas! Who planned this vacation, anyway?

Open Studios in Paris this weekend!

Have a good weekend, everybody! And remember, if you don’t like the news, go out and make some of your own!

Ciao from París!

On Getting Lost and Finding Dalí

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In the last week we’ve covered a lot of territory: the Luxembourg Gardens, the Paris catacombs, Notre Dame, the Louvre, Pont Neuf, Montmartre, Sacre Coeur and Espace Dalí. We’ve also found time for milongas, checking out more boulangeries and patisseries, and getting our Paris Metro passes. First rule of thumb for Paris newbies: try to avoid getting lost in the Luxembourg Gardens. I wandered off from Ben one fine day, looking for the w.c., and I couldn’t find my way back!

a beautiful day near the Luxembourg Gardens

This beautiful fountain (Fontaine de l’Observatoire, 1874)  reminds me of the Fontana di Trevi in Rome, which predates the Luxe Garden’s fountain by 112 years. The Romans tended to build fountains where their aqueducts converged. This fountain is a natural spot to meet up with someone, cause it’s so large you can’t miss it. Plus, it’s right at the south entrance to the Gardens.

the horses have fish-tails!

The water spilling over the edge and into the still pool is just lovely. Above them four nymphs are circling, symbolically representing the earthly sphere, with its four directions and four colors of humankind. The figures hold aloft a circular band with the 12 symbols of the Zodiac. Pretty cosmic stuff! You might say it prefigured the hippie era. Farther on is a long strip of green lawn edged with shade trees and dotted with sculptures.

give the guy a drink! he’s thirsty!

The lawns were busy with families, kids playing, couples romancing, and teenage girls in bikinis on beach blankets getting a head start on their summer tans.

The Luxembourg Gardens were built in 1615 by Marie d’Medici, Queen consort of France. She was the second wife of Henry IV. The palace was modeled after the Palazzo Pitti, in Marie’s hometown of Florence, Italy. Following the assassination of her husband in 1610, which occurred the day after her coronation (yikes!) Marie acted as regent for her son, King Louis XIII, until he came of age. She was noted for her involvement in the ceaseless political intrigues at the French court, and also for her extensive artistic patronage. And we thought our era was full of Sara Palins, Andy Warhols and Sarkozys?

Club Luxe Med?

If you walk past the huge reflecting pool, where pint-size sailing ships stage battles, there are acres and acres of trees, planted in straight lines that crisscross like a grid. Beneath the trees are dozens of park benches, also set in rows and interspersed with more sculptures, fountains, a carousel, an apple orchard, a café, pony rides… it’s an enormous invisible labyrinth! Every time you stop and turn around, it looks the same… trees and benches all around you. Are you getting that lost feeling yet? A bit dizzy? Like, too many giros? Not to worry, along came an avenging angel on horseback to save the day!

with his trumpet blazing!

With his cell phone beeping, is more like it. The tall guy was glad to find me, and plenty pissed off about my being lost for two hours! Here I am looking lost (but not really lost) on a rainy day in our neighborhood:

I admit I get lost easily..

especially if I walk into a Macy’s or even Target! Right brainers have more fun but we get into more trouble, too!

stay in your cubicle or get lost in the garden!

Anyhow, he got over it and his reward was a beautiful baguette!

make ’em eat bread!!

After my traumatic day I was in serious need of caffeine and sugar. Luckily, that’s not a problem in Paris.

how about a latte and a little something…

passionately sweet!

the fruit is real!

And if you really want to get lost, how about a delightful cobblestone street to find yourself in?

just follow the path!

So one very pretty day we found ourselves in the Metro, heading up the hill to Montmartre. We got off at Abbesses, and a big elevator took us several flights up to a beautiful plaza. We walked up curvy cobblestone streets, past dozens of adorable cafés,

Chez Marie

tourists by the dozen

more cafés

climbed up hundreds of stairs

you’ve got to be kidding!

are we there yet?

past free art on display

Adam offers God a drag?

finally arriving in the artsy tourist mecca, with its plaza packed full of artists sketching, painting, and displaying their works.

plaza des Artistes

Montmartre is a charming picturesque art enclave. Of course, it was a real artists’ zone back in the late 19th / early 20th century, and later re-engineered as a tourist destination. And there really is a population of artists making a living every day in Montmartre, though the game has changed. A village of artists, by artists, for artists, now that’s a different animal. Unfortunately there are precious few such places left these early 21st century days. Maybe in San Telmo? San Luis Obispo?

a busy painter

The Plaza des Artistes is just a stone’s throw away from the huge white monolith of Sacre Coeur, built into the top of the hill.

Sacre Coeur Cathedral

Dazzling!

returning home from the Crusades?

We blinked as we caught sight of Paris spread out before us in the distance, huge and glittering like a medieval dragon about to take flight.

After somewhat restoring our much abused strength with some crunchy sweet pralines purchased from a street hawker, we walked up a few more flights of stairs into the cathedral. Mass had just begun, and we weren’t sure if we should take seats and pray or just follow the tide of tourists coming in one set of doors, circling and gawking (no photos please!) before exiting out another set of doors. But then we saw a regiment of nuns who began to march up the aisle singing, followed by six priests walking their timeless procession. The singing was beautiful, as singing by women who have the time to practice and rehearse should be, so we found seats, stood up, and sang along with everyone else. It was quite stirring and wonderful.

After partaking of free blessings on the house, we made our way back to the main plaza in search of the Musée Dalí. Properly known as Espace Dalí. We found the petit musée and spent a couple of hours looking at some of Dalí’s best drawings, paintings and sculptures (bronzes). We took time to read all the commentaries (in French and English, side by side, how thoughtful!) and we both enjoyed learning the background and thought processes of the artist on each piece. I didn’t know that he illustrated several books, including an edition of Alice in Wonderland and the Romance of Tristan and Isolde.

Alice in Wonderland

Dalí also did some work for Walt Disney and created the dream sequences for the Hitchcock movie Spellbound. I’m a fan of Hitchcock too, so it was interesting to learn of the Dalí connection.

Salvador Dalí 1939

I already knew something of Dalí’s friendship with Spanish filmmaker Luis Buñuel (check out Los Olvidados, his classic 1950 documentary on street kids in Mexico City), along with Man Ray, Garcia Lorca, Picasso, Modigliani and the other artists and assorted groupies who lived in Montmartre in the early 1900s.

Dalí & Man Ray, 1934

It was noted that the long twirling moustache Dalí developed (after the above snapshot) resembled that of 17th century Spanish painter Diego Velázquez. Perhaps Dalí appropriated those curls to call forth Velázquez’ ancestral artistic spirit as a kind of inspirational muse? Or maybe they were proto-rhinoceros horns? Dalí called his method of creative design a “paranoic-critical method” of “accessing the subconscious” for creative inspiration.

Velázquez self-portrait

Is that the Jungian collective unconscious or the artist’s personal subconscious? According to exhibit notes, Dalí’s iconic “melting watches” are “a rejection of the assumption that time is rigid and deterministic.”

We think Dalí was influenced by Einstein’s theory of relativity, which was published in 1916 (remember MC2?) and won Einstein the Nobel Prize in 1921. Einstein postulated that time is relative and not fixed. Their paths may have crossed. Einstein emigrated to the United States in 1933, due to the rise to power of the Nazis in Germany. Dalí had his first New York gallery opening in 1934, entitled Persistance of Memory. Let’s just say it’s possible that Einstein was aware of the Surrealist Movement, and Dalí had most certainly heard of Einstein.

father of modern physics

self-portrait with butterflies

Dalí is so much fun! He is portrayed as being wildly egocentric, but I don’t really get that from his work. Sensitive, yes… creative — wow! off the charts!! but also loving… of nature, of women, of literature, of classical painting, of humankind’s creativity and contradictions.

I see… a rhinoceros!

I was delighted and astonished by actor Adrien Brody’s portrayal of Dalí in Midnight in Paris. He really brought Dalí to life for me! Apparently he saw a kind of cosmic geometry unfolding in the horns of a rhinoceros; as others see geometric designs in crystals, snowflakes, drops of water, honeycombs… you name it. And I don’t doubt that the universe truly has been formed in a perfect, geometric, yin/yang sort of unfolding. If the fundamental nature of matter in our universe can be traced to a handful of subatomic elements, then even the molecules of your mind spring forth from the patterns instilled in us from the beginning of time. As authors of our own stories, we play a director’s role, enabling us to pursue the perfection of our selves in a search for meaning that evolves in the context of natural harmony. I admit I’ve always been a fan of surrealist art–some of it LSD induced. “I don’t do drugs… I am drugs!” proclaims a t-shirt at the Espace Dalí gift shop.

I am Dalí!

I could go on and on about Dalí, but our 20th century genius is not in need of PR. The Art here in Paris is absolutely dazzling, to say the least. There is an amazing Degas exhibit at the Musée d’Orsay right now:

a woman bathing

First Sunday of the month is free admission day at about 150 Paris museums, so that will only take us, let’s see, 12 first Sundays a year…. 2 museums in a day…. no way, that’s too tiring…. 1 museum per month… looks like we’ll have to stay here another 12 and a half years to see it all! The pressure is on!

Dalí’s St. George and the Dragon

Looks like I don’t have enough space in this post to cover the catacombs (spooky!) Paris milongas, Paris tango fashions, Paris tango etiquette, Paris DJs and Paris milonga music! Stay tuned for all that and more. And what about about springtime in Paris? She’s a fickle one, to be sure. Sunny and up into the 80s one day, absolutely gorgeous; chilly, windy and rainy the next; then hot and humid with thunderstorms! Isn’t that just like a woman?

Au revoir from Paris!

Last Days in Buenos Aires… sob!

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Fall in Buenos Aires arrived with a vengeance! Before that we had lovely days, and delightfully warm nights. You’d leave a milonga at 3 am, and didn’t need a jacket or sweater. Then, all of a sudden, the temperature dropped into the 60s, dipping into the 40s at night, and that cold wind!!

San Telmo, photo by BuenosAires4U.com

Trees along the streets are turning yellow; leaves are falling, their colors blending with the assorted trash and grunge of the streets.  I took one last shot of the Palacio de los Patos, the view from our apartment.

a parting shot…snif!

People walk by bundled up, with the omnipresent neck scarf and winter coat or jacket. Women have traded in their summer flats and sandals for ankle boots, riding boots, sexy lace-up booties, not to mention faux fur animal print boots! Cold weather seems to bring out the female feline.

on the prowl…

Alas, it’s time to leave our favorite city, time to head north to check in with family and friends. I’m fixin’ to hold my precious first grandbaby! Tagging along with the anticipation and delight of a wee bundle of joy, we tango every night till 3 or 4. What’s to stop us? I almost missed my 11:30 yoga class… so hard to get up in the mornings. I feel like a spoiled girl!  Hmm… I guess I am a spoiled girl! Speaking of children, here’s my sweet baby Teo. See that reddish hair! Yes, there is some Irish blood in the family. Just have a look at our wee leprechaun!

my son Ode & baby Teo

I made a list of my New Year’s resolutions; I know I’m getting them in late; is that like bouncing a check? Or forgetting to file? Seriously, though, the New Year has brought us feelings of accomplishment, that is to say, progress in tango. Ben says he’s keeping his resolutions to himself… (should I be worried?) but I don’t mind sharing what I’m working on. After all, who doesn’t go through the same stages, more or less: the same fumbling bumbling beginner’s hell? (for a silly primer on the plight of the beginning dancer, go to <centralcoasttango.org> and click on Tango Hell.) Here’s a preview of my resolutions:

Posture, balance, embrace, walking… and you thought walking was just putting one foor in front of the other? Think again! My goal right now… ONE of my goals… is to keep it simple, focus on my foot to floor connection, and dance with my partner, not with myself!!  Sublimate your expression, dance HIS interpretation of the music… and when he pauses to let you play, you can renegotiate the contract for a few moments. This brings the yin and yang energies into balance… ¿qué sí? qué no? 

Along with my resolutions, here’s some photos of the last days. We accidentally met some traveling dogsledding skiing tangoing Alaskans!

new friends Jane & Peter in San Telmo

That same day in San Telmo Ben captured this shot of our friend El Indio dancing at his Sunday milonga in Plaza Dorrego:

El Indio & friend

And we also chanced to see Orquesta Típica el Afronte, playing on the sidewalk near the Plaza Dorrego Sunday Fair. These guys rock the house on Wednesday nights at Maldita Milonga, 571 Perú, in San Telmo. We’ve seen them many times and they are fab!

Orquesta Típica El Afronte

We had a relaxing day in San Telmo, spending time with good friends and gorgeous Buenos Aires fall weather.

Ben & me

If you’re young, dance tango, plan to visit Buenos Aires, and like to mix it up with all colors and flavors of other young travelers, then we may have found the best cheap hotel for you:

Hostel San Telmo

Our last days in Buenos Aires we tango’d all over town with our best friends. We had our best-ever privates with our dear friend Marcela Hourquebie. Marcela took us light-years beyond the usual private classes, losing ourselves and then finding ourselves again, transforming our way of being, of dancing, of thinking, of processing, of leading and following. I even learned to be on my own axis 100% of the time (unless he takes me off my axis, of course). Yes, I know I’m the poster child; finally, after almost 10 years of dancing tango, I manage to stay on my axis? About time, girl!

best friends!

Towards the end of our stay we experienced the deepest work. Our brains were de-fragged, our internal processors upgraded, and of course it all carries over into your relationship. When your dance partner is your life partner, you reach some deep practice. Your relationship is stripped to the core and then rebuilt, remodeled, like having your piano brought up to A440, or trying out a new bit on your horse, your hands softer now and your horse more responsive. Always working towards a deeper harmony. Your embrace is fine-tuned, adjusted. It’s fluid, mobile, re-negotiated daily. Taking a step will never again be just another step! If you were the house-mouse living on a touchscreen floor, what would the trail of your steps look like… points of pressure with only faint traces in between? Even better, visualize a blazing light-trail, revealing a minimum of pressure changes as the free foot moves across the floor? This is really too complex for me to explain! Pooh Bear may need to call on Christopher Robin to assist. Have patience with me, cause trying to explain helps me integrate the new structures into every cell, every molecule. Change means work!

Everything you thought you learned in those first few years of tango classes, workshops, milongas – all the money you spent on lessons, shoes, clothes – you find yourself rediscovering the basics, because you’re standing in a new place now, and everything looks different, feels different. You go back to the basics to relearn it all again. You refine your walk, your posture, your attitude. I still love voleos, sacadas, ganchos… but my focus has moved towards elegance, simplicity, refinement. I’ve quit trying to embellish every other step. I’m making more of an effort to really listen to my partner, to be really connected to him. It’s not easy! But I’m also letting go of judgement. There is no such thing as good tango or bad tango; Tango just IS.  

at La Coqueta de Recoleta

More pearls of wisdom from Marcela: Quit chasing the music; let the music come to you, let it come from within, let it fill you, enter you wholly and completely. (No corres detrás de la música; deja que la música te llega a ti, que entra en ti.) This is such an important piece of the puzzle! From the male point of view it has often been said, and nicely I think, “for the man, there is only the music, and the woman.”  Female point of view, anybody? For the woman, there is only the music, and the man. Absolutely fundamental, absolutely imprescindible!

be connected in blue

And who could live the true milonguero lifestyle without great friends to drag you all over town to all the best places to eat, drink, and dance?

best friends!

In yet another angle on the HOW TO WALK WITH YOUR FEET ON THE FLOOR theme, let’s focus on the arrastre, which in English means drag and can refer to steps or to the sound of the bandoneon: you slightly drag your toes on the floor… tracing invisible lines, invisible pictures, invisible perfume crossing and recrossing the dance floor, resisting, then giving into the floor, giving in to the music. Your feet should never stop, but move fluidly with equal pressure in mid-step. Your change of weight should be almost imperceptible. Let your feet talk to the floor, caress the floor…. my goal?…  to dance like her!

Gracias, Marcela!

Taking Mario Orlando‘s DJ class hasn’t hurt my appreciation for tango, either. Au contraire, mon cher! I think I can honestly say that I carry around in my head the BUENOS AIRES TANGO TOP 400  24/7!! My personal background muzak.

gracias, Mario!

And who wouldn’t gain an infinite amount of floorcraft (and I don’t mean steerage!) after months of classes with Raúl Bravo? Gracias, Raúl!!  I hope you’re enjoying your visit to Russia!

Gracias, Maestro!

Can you believe he’s in his 80s? He dances with the skill and energy of a 30 year old, and that’s NOT an exaggeration! Raúl teaches the fancy stuff, the moves, the choreographies, along with the technique that you need to stay on top of your game. Last July, his classes were so advanced, we honestly couldn’t believe he let us stay in the class! Almost everybody there was already a really good dancer or a pro; others dropped in for a refresher from the maestro de maestros, in preparation for the Tango World Cup (alias el Mundial). By the time we left, we were finally feeling worthy enough to take his class — how can I say it differently? Finally worthy… that’s BIG!

Okay, one more Thank you!!! to our Maestro of Milonga (and Milonguero style, and Vals) JORGE FIRPO!

Papito rocks!!

Jorge Firpo and his beautiful sweet wife and tango partner Diana Mestre, have been SO good to us, so patient, so comprensivos, so positive and upbeat 100% of the time!!  How do they do it? Who the heck knows? They’ve got a good thing goin’!  And as dancers they are soooooo fabulous!! He runs his classes like a drill sergeant with a smile, and she quietly and patiently passes on imprescindible tango technique, embellishments and other secrets to us ladies. They have a huge and loyal following, even on other planets! (cause their star shines that bright!!) not to mention their very own Fan Club, Los Fans de Papito! Ben made Jorge a Deputy Sheriff and even gave him his own badge!

I almost forgot to mention the night Guillermo & Dolores took us to Las Cañitas, a part of Palermo that has a few very cool blocks of pubs and restaurants. The night we went I was cameraless, so I swiped these cool pix off the web:

La Lupita, shrine to Tequila & la Virgencita

’round midnight the best time to go

the bar at La Lupita

she reigns over the bar and all of Mexico too

Get the feeling I like the place?

So the day finally arrived, we had to leave our beloved Buenos Aires. I mean, just for a moment, let  yourself feel the angst, the pathos (what is pathos, anyway?). Ben kept reminding me I didn’t need to cry all the way to the airport, as I’ve done the other times. No, I had to be a big girl and stay focused on the future: see my kids, my grandbaby, visit friends and family, then on to Paris.

New Years Resolution No. 1: Let yourself go, be who you are, give your infinite Self up to the moment. Let your interpretation of the music, your passion for the music, flow thru you. Relax, ground, dance WHO you are! Feel more colors, more sensation, more attitude…. accept nothing less than total transformation! 

New Years Resolution No. 2: Feel the lead! Listen to his body, listen to your body…  Don’t just step… flow! let your feet have a conversation with the floor.

New Years Resolution No. 3: Connectivity! Connect with yourself first. Feel that invisible string pulling you skyward, and then feel the roots that connect your feet to the floor. Through them you ground into the earth. When you feel connected internally and externally, your mind able to focus and not running off in a million different directions, connect to your partner. You should feel the exact moment when you complete the embrace, that live circuit engaged. When the circuit is complete your electro-magnetic field becomes supercharged. Then you connect to the floor, to the room, to the circle of dancers, to the music, the musicians, the DJ. I learned in high school physics that the electrical connection can only flow when all the wires are connected and you are grounded thru the floor. Trying to anticipate the lead breaks the circuit. Crossing your fingers behind your back is cheating!

Flying out of Ezeiza, we had quite a rockin’ and rollin’ ride over the Andes – brown with white patches of snow – and we bounced over more potholes in the sky flying from Lima to San Salvador. I sang quietly to myself calling on the wakinyan, the Thunder Spirits, to bring this frolicking pony back to the barn safe and sound! I sang to the wanbli, the eagles, to fly with us and bring us safe and sound to our journey’s end. My flight mantra: “May the wind under your wings guide you where the moon walks and the sun sails…” (from The Hobbit)

The wanbli brought us back to San Francisco safe and sound. We spent a delightful few days visiting family and the new baby! He’s so adorable! Here I am with Teo and my comadre, Teo’s maternal grandmother.

el nene y las comadres!

We made a quick trip to Portland to look at artisan bakeries (part of the groundwork for Ben’s projected café-bakery-dance hall), visit old friends, and tango. We stopped in San Luis Obispo for a few days to reconnect with close friends: tango base camp. They put on a big throw-down for us! There was great dancing, and the music, food & drink, starry skies & view of the ocean from Val & Mary’s stunning hillside retreat was absolutely awesome!! Many thanks to all!! California milongueros really know how to party!!

Milonga chez Val & Mary

We celebrated Mary’s birthday, and had a sorteo just like the milongas in Buenos Aires, complete with prizes: CDs and other fun items.

Vive la France!

the lucky number is…

and the winner is…

Willow’s Short Version New Year Resolutions 2012:

There is no such thing as good tango or bad tango. TANGO just IS.

Don’t run after the music….  let the music run thru YOU.

RELAX 

CONNECT

GROUND

DANCE WHO YOU ARE!

FOLLOW HIM, BUT DON’T CODDLE HIM

STAND  UP  TALL  ON YOUR AXIS

BREATHE

Your GIRO is your signature….  make it your OWN

Don’t just step….  FLOW

FEEL THE LEAD

COLLECT

YOU are a DIAMOND

YOU are an ANGEL, an EAGLE…. DANCE with your WINGS!

Ciao from Buenos Aires!

Next stop: PARIS!

Sexteto Milonguero and Wild Women of San Francisco

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The other night we had the pleasure of listening to the high lonesome sound of SEXTETO MILONGUERO! These guys and gal can really throw down some dancing music! The celebration was the 6 month anniversary of a new milonga, La Coqueta de Recoleta. Here in Buenos Aires the milongas are usually packed, unless it’s early (before midnight) or late (after 4 am). But La Coqueta is quite danceable, the floor is excellent, table service very good, and the building is really and truly a Palace! Sexteto Milonguero plays a repertoire of  tangos, milongas and valses arranged in the classic 1940s tango salon style. The group was formed in 2006 by singer Javier Di Ciriaco. Their music is high-energy, and made for dancing! Good music, good friends, good vibes!

Javier Di Ciriaco flashed his trademark white lightning smile as the band cranked out high-octane tangos, valses and milongas.

they can play fast milongas!

Sexteto Milonguero ended the show with two tandas in a row of classic milonga! If you tango you know what a rarity that is. The band was simply giving the crowd what they like best! All was astir in milonguero heaven!

view from backstage

Lucky us, we had seats backstage… the contrabajo player was on the floor fixing something with his wiring…  Javier started off with a piece new to us, and he was singing better than I have ever heard him.  I admit he used to remind me of Paul English, Willie Nelson’s drummer, who acted and dressed like the devil’s little brother. But I was pleasantly impressed! The 2 violins and 2 bandoneons screamed and wailed. We climbed down to the floor and spent the next couple hours dancing Tango… our favorite pastime and addiction!

Gervasio Ledesma, piano

La Coqueta de Recoleta is located in a beautiful 1913 home built by José González Balcarce and his wife Rosa Aguirre Anchorena, both members of the vintage upper crust of Buenos Aires society of the era.

dining room

Balcarce’s father was the godson of General San Martín, who gets major credit for driving the Spanish out of Chile, Peru and Argentina in the early 1800s. The Palacio Balcarce became the residence of the German Ambassador in the 1940s (it was a Nazi hangout), and later the headquarters of the Armed Forces Officers’ Club.  If only the walls could talk…

la sala

Currently there is a restaurant on the second floor, and space is available for special occasions, weddings, and the like. The dance floor is upstairs on the 3rd floor. Pretty sweet spot for a milonga, ¿qué no?

Palacio Balcarce, Quintana 161, Recoleta

Willow, Javier Di Ciriaco

Tango is about containing and being contained, existing and coexisting, letting go of loneliness.  Tango is improvisation is Freedom.

Did you know? There ARE other things to do in Buenos Aires besides tango. There are lots of great museums, for one, and its sidewalk cafés rank amongst the world’s finest! I’ve been studying Italian at the Dante Alighieri Association. The Italian language has been a passion for me since I first read the Divine Comedy, while I was an undergrad at UC Santa Cruz. I’m Italian on my mom’s side, and we have a ton of relatives in Italy! Here’s some photos from our dopo la sparatoria festa! (post-firing squad party!)

on Corrientes

quasi tutti!

thanks for your visit!

The good news is, we all passed our written and oral exams. And I hear there’s going to be another party this Saturday night at Bar de la Rue in Belgrano! Masks are requested but not mandatory. Ci vediamo!!

Speaking of fiestas, this lovely dancer, who had just finished a tango exhibition with her partner at La Nacional, was also celebrating her birthday! Don’t you love that sweet hopeful look on her face as she makes her wish?

Make a wish!

Yes, we were there also, with Ben’s daughter Courtney who spent a week here and took tango lessons just about every day. Way to go, girl!

she likes to tango, and...

she loves empanadas!

My excellent friend Marcela Hourquebie, superb dancer, fantastic tango teacher, judge of tango competitions (you may remember her from a previous post, Back on the Radar), celebrated HER birthday last weekend at Porteño y Bailarín:

FELIZ CUMPLE AMIGA!!

This photo of us dancing at Porteño y Bailarín is for Ben’s mom Bess, who requested a nice photo of us dancing:

for you Bess!

Oops, she probably wants a photo where she can see HER SON’S FACE!! Sorry, Bess! It’s coming up very soon…. but first, our good friends Dolores and Guillermo:

wow man

Guillermo is sporting the mandatory three top buttons undone for the classic Latin lover AKA sexy tango dancer look! The tall guy, AKA Benjamín, has made it (with my help) to two buttons undone so far!

Dolores, me, and Jane from Anchorage!

She didn’t really have a big red spot on her face!  The lighting was strange last night but we kinda liked it!  Maybe Ben’s camera fell into the vino tinto?

and a fun time was had by all!

Jane and I at Fulgor de Villa Crespo

he loves the impressionist atmosphere!

And now, FINALLY, the part YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR!!

OUR FRIEND KEN NARRATES HIS FEARSOME EXPERIENCE WITH SOME  WILD SAN FRANCISCO TANGUERAS!

“Weirdly, the morning after the event, it was the alpha females who were most memorable for me.

“‘A’ kept up a running monologue of ‘okay, this is the part of the song where you do the molinete…now pause HERE, and let me play…’ sheesh!  But, she was so much fun, who could resist?

“And ‘B’ who, when we first started to dance, I asked to please not rest her head on mine because I needed to move my head for navigation…. well, that didn’t work.  We ended up head-to-head both facing straight down to the floor, and bent over in an improbable, stylized tango embrace so I could watch her feet, because at every ever-so-slight cadence or pause in the music, she would start ‘chopping cabbages.’ I laughed out loud every time she took the reins.

“There was ‘C’ who told me I must not hold her in tight embrace, that she needed to “train” me, that she wanted her right arm to be placed just so, that here she would do a dip, all the while narrating the the intimate secrets of those dancing around us.  Shocking!

“And then there was ‘D’.  She took me on a joy-ride milonga like I had never had, or… did I take her? (it was hard to tell) Absolutely like driving a Maserati up the Amalfi coast, and I’m ready to plunge off at any moment.  Suddenly she stops dead.  ‘Why is it,’ she ponders, ‘people don’t stop during the milonga?’  I thought, what the hell, so I also stopped us dead several times during the song, and each time she moaned in pleasure, ‘yes, oh yes….’ It was a milonga interruptus.

“Sometimes it’s the Wild Women who are the most fun!”

Thanks, Ken! And to MY READERS: Do you like Ken’s story?  Send in your comments!

TANGO ADDICTION GUIDELINES

1:  you keep doing it
2:  every time you do it you feel happy
3:  it turns your life upside down but you don’t care.

Ciao from Buenos Aires!