After eleven years living, dancing, teaching tango, and writing in Buenos Aires, I came home to L.A. in 2014, where I'm reconstructing my life.

Friday, July 20, 2007


He danced well, as if it were natural and joyous in him to dance, [with] a certain subtle exultation like glamour in his movement, and his face the flower of his body.
-- D. H. Lawrence

Santiago took his index of women contacts with him when he left Buenos Aires and went to Atlanta with Doris. He emailed Sarah regularly in Tucson and sometimes even telephoned her.

Doris, “La Gorda,” as Santiago referred to his hostess and benefactor, had built him a dance studio in the basement of her large home in the suburbs in Georgia, gave him access to her computer, telephone, car, and Sarah supposed, to her. Sarah accepted that now he had all that he had been working for.

But after a few weeks he wrote Sarah that Doris was crazy, had thrown him out one night late to sleep outside in the cold. He was saved by another woman on his list from Atlanta who, when he called, took him in. So now he complained bitterly about Doris in his emails to Sarah.

Why is it that a woman is “crazy” if she no longer puts up with rude and unacceptable behavior from a man? “Crazy” if she no longer puts up with him? Santiago’s gripe was that Doris was in love with him, whereas for him it had all been purely a business arrangement from the getgo: so many hours of private lessons in exchange for room and board. Listo.

“But Santiago, did you sleep with her?” Sarah asked, during one long phone call.

“Of course I slept with her! So what?”

His two month tourist visa was almost up. Was Sarah going back to Buenos Aires soon, he wanted to know?

Well sure, she said. She tried to go for a week or two every six months, like so many foreign women who lived to dance tango in Buenos Aires. Tango in Tucson just wasn't the same.

Hasta pronto, they said to each other over the phone with 2,000 miles of the United States between them. be continued.

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