Sunday, 9 March 2008

Nomadic people live wherever they are; everywhere is equally home. There was no real commuting in village communities where people worked in fields nearby. Commuting is an urban feature. & commuting is for work, hardly for play. I've just been in London for tango three days out of four. It's rather refreshing to have a day about the house, look out at the garden, and glimpse a faint sliver of new moon thru the window. I avert my eyes, open a window and gaze up at the perfect curve. No, I'm not superstitious.

Not a good tango week, for no apparent reason, although there were good things in it. Wednesday at L&R's class I managed comfortably enough, leading the 'reverse' position of dance, leading the partner from behind, both facing forwards, except for the last few minutes when it got into ochos and a turn. I can figure it out, but leading it isn't easy. Then the Dome. A was there: we had an OK dance, but she dances little these days and it's not easy. Apart from her, no one I knew well; regular partners I can dance or work with weren't there, and K had gone to Paris for her birthday. Suddenly depressed that I don't have the ease to dance more with more partners, even after several years. Until the last few minutes, three dances with S in which all the energies opened out and around the floor.

Friday I go to Negracha, mainly to dance with S again ... and she's not there. But I dance with a woman who tells me she has come from far away to dance. Sceptical, being a commuter myself, I ask where. True, Hay on Wye IS far. She (Nancy) comes to London every month or two and goes out Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights. We enjoy several great and rhythmic Vals. The class: the class was Alex and Stefano who talk of being taught in BsAs by milongueros who stress walking as the basis for tango. We learn a contratiempo, a long slow, then a quick quick slow, more or less on the spot. Then when you've mastered it, go and dance it! Move to it, enjoy it. Funny that it's not complicated but not at all easy.

Actually S turned up late and we did have a bit of a dance. But this week I'm hardly remembering more than the basics. Sad. Then Saturday, Crypt, once again none of my familiar partners. Actually it's good to dance with partners you're not familiar with. I ask a woman standing near me to dance: we have a couple of interesting dances. Obviously she's experienced, I enjoy the dance, cut short by the change to milonga. We talk: Sue has visited BsAs and knows the dance scene there and in London. She runs the Takes 22 tango website.

Finally a few dances with Y who tells me between dances she's split with her boyfriend. Hardly her usual cheerful self. She discovered he was cheating on her, and wanted to continue seeing her too. Too much for her. And then it was 11pm, time to head back to London Bridge and cocoon myself in tangos recorded 70 years ago, and stare out into the night with rain streaked on the windows. Living in two places at once.

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