A Woman Can Dance Only  on the Leader’s Skills
By Elena Pankey
She cannot make up a dance for a man, if he does not lead it. All women dream to dance with good, strong leaders, who would take them to "unknown" patterns, to some new heights, and to new achievements in tango adventure. The better the leader is, the better his partner looks. It is obvious for every- body. This is why Leaders need to study tango with more persistency, and with more commitment. Leaders need to make a really strong effort to overcome their own personal attitude, that could be in the way of their success in tango life and leading, then over come their own old bad tango habits. They need to try to put more energy into some tango steps, according to the music’s strong beats. They need to polish not only their techniques, but also their good manners and politeness and to learn more about the social skills and tango etiquette. Mostly, learn how to be pleasant and smiling to a partner before and between the sets of the dance. However, the main idea for a leader is to learn deeper that vast tango vocabulary, and practice what has been learned. Otherwise, it will disappear again. It means that every time after a new lesson, men need to practice  dancing the new steps, new approaches, and new tango combinations. If men want to progress, they should not go to Milonga to dance only what was learned once some time ago. Women like to investigate tango steps with new partners. They like to try new things and new challenges. Some- times a leader could be a good and pleasant  social dancer, but he has limited vocabulary, or just afraid to try new combinations, and then women get bored with his dancing. Actually, if we talk about the techniques, there are no "man only "or "woman only" techniques. The Tango dance is skilled when a man and a woman exchange leads. But they always use the same tango principles; the techniques are the same for both parts. Some figure might have a lot of ballroom in it, or a lot of show tricks, or it could be authentic style, but the principles of balance, extensions, stretching, and leads are the same. Learn HOW to Dance, HOW to Lead! Don't memorize the patterns! Every pattern cold be broken and could lead to something else. Every pattern has many "windows" where the real great dancer would take a lady for a great pleasure of discovery.
visit  www.TangoCaminito.com  email TangoCaminitoSchool@Yahoo.com  AllRightsReserved©2006
	Note  from  the  Editor . . .

Dear Readers,

I got an received an email  from Orlando Budini in June reminding me that June 24 was the 72 anniversary of  the day Carlos Gardel's plane went down in in 1935 at Medellin, Columbia. He was buried in the "Chacarita Cemetery" in Buenos Aires, Argentina.  Have you heard the legend about the lady who has been visiting his tomb ever since and has been laying a carnation just besides the picture of Carlitos.     

We hade a festive time in Margie's garden Sat. the 29 of June. I hope to have photos by the next issue in September. Again the Posada Milonga Board of Directors want to warmly thank Cicelio for his gracious donation of time and money.

Don't forget about Las Vegas September 20 - 23, 2007. For more information, please visit their website: www.lasvegastangoweekend.com
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The Spa is very popular, especial these "couple's weeks,
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Reminder :

 La Vida Tango will be published bi-monthly. That means that this year you will get emails for the new issues in July, September and November.

Enjoy life and the dance,      B

I was just walking in, like every Wednesday when I’m in Buenos Aires, to the dance floor of “Club Espanol” milonga, it was pack to the neck as usual. Fortunately for me, Maria the nice waitress who always find me a good place to seat, was already waiting for me with a table. After the usual kiss and thanks I was just seating down when I heard a particular and very familiar voice saying: “Che Yankee, como estas?” (Hey Yankee how are you?) I looked over my shoulder and I saw them in the middle of the floor, embracing one to the other like a couple of teenagers, and moving their arms up and down waiving at me like football fans: Osvaldo Cartery and Luisa Ines Cartery (Coca). They are the World Tango Champions “mas veteranos” (old) of Buenos Aires, all Argentina and, of course, the entire world. As soon as the music went to a “Tanda” they got to my table and Osvaldo gave me a very expressive hug (and if the hug is coming from Osvaldo is very, very expressive) inviting me on the spot and before starting any conversation “a comer un asado en mi casa”! (to eat a barbecue in his house) that coming Sunday.

I had met Coca and Osvaldo a Sunday night in a nice milonga when a couple of English speaking fellows from Denver asked me to be their translator during a private lesson with them the following day at the house-studio of Jessica Grimberg. They are both the same age (70) but they are energetic and very young in their attitude, in their harts and in their professional dancer’s legs. Son of immigrants Osvaldo often use to say that he dance tango “desde siempre” (from always), Coca use to say that she never danced before she met Osvaldo. At the beginning of their personal relationship in Lanus, a Buenos Aires province, they start dancing and danced together 7 years, then they got married and “We stop dancing for the next 30 years dedicating ourselves to our family and to our children” Osvaldo said. And then, thirty years later, just after they had raised and married off all of the children, they started to dance again during the social reunions of their club’s neighborhood, like most of the old times tangueros did. “In those times they were no Tango Teachers or Tango Dance Academies where to learn” said Osvaldo. “ I had to learn how to dance just looking for hours and hours at the legs of those milongueros that knew how to do it and I learned, not only the men part but also the women roll. That helped me a lot, in the future, to understand and to love the dance“.

In the year 2004 confident about their dance, they decided to take part in the Tango World Championship in Buenos Aires. They competed in the category of Salon Tango against 184 couples. Young couples a half or a third o their age from dozens of cities all around the world and …. they won! At the age of 67 years they won the title of Tango Champions of the World: “You know Orlando, to be part of the Tango World Championship 2004 in Buenos Aires was one of the passions of my life and then… when we won the title… besides the happiness and the satisfaction of being the winners, it changed our lives and our friends for the rest of our days Osvaldo said to me very emotional he continued to remember, “Many years ago I used to live very close to the house of Pepito Avellaneda, one of old great milongueros and I used to seen him get back late from his work and after some time leave again well dressed for the milongas”. In those times where 2 tendencies in dance: The Tango and Rock and Roll but I was attracted to el Tango because its cadence and its beauty. To Osvaldo I asked, what is the real truth about the Tango? “The real truth of El Tango lies in THE DANCE FLOOR and also in its improvisation but never, never in “the Show” that has been rehearsed for the same couple a thousand times before” and he continued, “If you want to dance Tango you will need to put a little more than your body and your legs in the dance… You need to put YOUR SOUL! Tango steps anybody could learn. In el tango you have to feel it deep inside and “vibrate” with its notes and its music … Only when you start “vibrating” when you dance then, just then… you will be dancing a real Tango!

They both are great showmen and never fail to delight any audience. Osvaldo is one of the great milongueros of his generation, those guys that grew up dancing in the Buenos Aires milongas during the golden era of el Tango. Coca is a great follower and her rhythm and dynamics of the dance are really astonishing for hers age. Peoples in Buenos Aires love this couple and enjoy very much the way they dance because, they are good and because their dance remind them their own fathers, their own uncles or the old time good dancers of they neighborhood’s clubs and confiterias.   <COCA Y OSVALDO SOCIALY DANCING AT 'CLUB ESPANOL' MILONGA   Picture by: Orlando Budini.....

Choreography? What is that? said Osvaldo, “if you want to dance the real Tango you must improvise and transmit to your legs and feet your feelings at that moment and what ever that music inspired you to do. Many dancers enjoy dancing to Pugliese because there is no “compass” in it, it is 100% melody and in the case they get out of “compass” SE LES NOTA (you can see it). When you dance to D’Arienzo or Calo or Lawrence SI NO LOS PISAS BIEN (If you do not step well on the beat) if you do not put your feet right in the compass SE TE NOTA MUCHO! (Every body notice it)”.

Not only they have taught and performed with success at festivals and milongas all over the world where all the audiences loved them. Not only do they represent an entire era of the authentic Buenos Aires tango, but they also know and feel Tango very deep inside them. If you do not believe this after all this conversation with Osvaldo Cartery, please read one of his last comments about stage Tango (and I quote): “Stage Orlando? Stage or the so called “stage tango” is PURO GRUPO (is a deception), that is the Tango that they invented to sell Tango to the tourists!!

Until the next “asado” in your house Osvaldo!

An immense marble square is spread like a great chessboard before the magnificent, the stunning architectural eloquence of the Paris Hotel de Ville. A breathtaking view! One that strikes me into immobility every time I emerge from the subterranean twilight of the metro into the heart of this incredible tribute to French creative genius. I scan the square, looking for Natasha. Tall, sculptured lampposts stand posted on the marble plaza like finely carved chessboard sentinels. Their yellow gaslight lifts the cloak of darkness above the tall chimneys, precariously balanced and riding high and stately among the gargoyles staring down from their perch along the steeply inclined rooftops.

I spot Natasha sitting on the ledge by the fountains along la rue de Rivoli. She’s easy to pick out in a crowd. Her natural grace, the unconscious way she moves or just sits, make her stand out from the people around her. Her knees are crossed, and her nylon-clad thighs are thrust into view from between the slit in the black raincoat she wears like a cloak. Her long, slim, almost skinny legs are twisted, one behind the other, as if they were Italian noodles. The sparkling waters behind her play with the light which dances like fireflies in the soft strands of her hair, tied in a ponytail that has an enchanted life of its own.

I sit down next to her. She’s munching on a candy bar. It’s chocolate. The crunchy kind. I put my hand on her nylon thigh and feel its heat, then slip an arm under her raincoat and around her waist, drawing her close. She stops munching. She closes her eyes and puckers her lips. I brush them with mine. Then she starts chewing again. She extends her crunch bar towards me. I hold her hand and take a big bit.

"Ah! Non," she says, examining the stub of her candy bar. "You are a greedy American! If you loved me, you would not bite all of my candy bar!" But I do want to bite her candy bar. I want to enter her body and her soul and dance and laugh and swim naked in the Luxembourg gardens. I’m in big trouble, I know. I can tell, because I’ve never been jealous over a girl before. But all that has changed. No man can walk past Natasha without wanting to glue his fat lips onto her sweet rosebud mouth, without wanting to cradle that sweet oval face with its beautifully ugly, protruding cheek bones, its great round eyes, set much too far apart on either side of a shapeless nose that looks like a couple of black tear drops embedded on either side of a pink, perpetually shiny grape.

I keep telling myself jalousie is part of the game. You’ve got to understand this, Robert. I mean God, or whomever, made us this way. It’s healthy to want to ram some guy’s teeth down his throat for wanting to steal your woman. It’s the manly thing to do. I mean, if you think you have it tough, Robert, just look at those poor goddamned moose out in the woods, biting and bucking and butting their goddamned heads together, while the object of their affection munches grass, waiting for the lucky winner to come over and collect her. You’ve got to keep this thing under control, Robert.

I do control it, I tell myself. I overcompensate. I go out of my way to introduce Natasha to other guys and invite other guys to dance with her. But I can’t always hide it. Actually, I think she enjoys seeing this streak of jalouse insanity explode in me, like green sweat from some hell deep region in my soul. I think she likes making this happen, with her practice of subtle flirtation and her exuberant entretiens with guys who lock onto her dazzling, wide-mouth smile and see the skies light up.

She likes seeing that dark green shade creep into my eyes, my unsmiling lips, my clenched fists. It tells her I really love her and that I’m desperate. It reassures her that I’m really out of my mind. It makes her feel desired, wanted. On the other hand, I guess she’s always been a friendly, vivacious kind of girl. She can’t help it, and people just naturally love her. Impossible not to. I’ve got to get a grip on this monster that’s eating at my guts. I don’t see Natasha having trouble with this sort of thing. What does that tell you, Robert?

I solemnly swear to Natasha that I will buy her another candy bar. "A really big, superior candy bar?" she wants to know. "Yes, indeed," I tell her, "and champagne to go with it when we get to The Tango Bar." We get up from our place at the edge of the fountain. That is to say, I get up, but Natasha never just rises. She floats, as if she had wings, and she lands with a little pirouette or some other kind of movement that’s so light and natural it always looks right. But it can be a problem.

Last week, at this same spot, we were waiting to cross la rue de Rivoli, heading, as usual, for the Tango Bar at le Bistro Latin. The light turns green, and Natasha floats off the curb into the path of a fast moving Citroën, running the light. She probably weighs a hundred pounds or so. I yank her bodily into the air and haul her back onto the curb. I expect her to react violently to this incident. After all, it was a near death kind of thing. "Are you OK?," I ask her. "Sure," she says, shrugging her shoulders.

"It’s fate. You were there for me tonight, Robert. You’re part of my fate. But, when it’s time to go, you just gotta go. That’s it. There’s nothing you can do about it."