De Plantage, Amsterdam

Bar, left; entrance at the far end.  I sat near the right hand corner.

One Friday night in August I biked from west Amsterdam to De Plantage, a Friday night milonga in the city that had been recommended by locals and visitors. This was as usual a solo trip and although I had gone to the last TangoMagia festival in 2013 this was the first regular milonga I went to in the Netherlands. 

Near my lodgings the Haarlemmerstraat and Haarlemmerdijk were lively with people spilling out of the shops, bars and cafes. If felt like theatre. The area was full of the mingled smells of weed-smoke and spice. 

The tunnel under the IJ (a sort of bay) was closed so there were roadworks going on and I lost my bearings. I coasted up to a group of what I took to be workmen in high vis vests though I was a surprised to see at least one woman too. I said I was a bit lost. A tall, friendly guy with a lovely manner stepped forward. Holding his rollup he took my phone in his other hand to see where I was trying to get to. “Do you trust me?” he said to soften the surprise of finding myself giving my phone to a stranger. He explained where to go in his near flawless English. Not for the last time in the Netherlands I tried to imagine the reverse scenario: a Glaswegian workman switching to Dutch to help a tourist. Maybe not but they are helpful in Glasgow. It is rare that I don’t find people helpful pretty much everywhere. The guy had indicated a large boulevard opposite where we were standing  from which traffic was heading towards us . “Not the other side?”, I said, indicating the other lane where the traffic was going the way he was pointing. Perhaps there was a cycle path I should take on the side he was indicating. “It doesn’t matter. Either side. You’re in the Netherlands”, he said, smiling. Seeing me hesitate, “That’s the safer side”, he agreed. "Well, I’ll do that - I live in Scotland" I said, unrelatedly, meaning “It’s my first evening here”. 

Entrance

The area around the milonga was much quieter than the one I had come from.  It starts late for me, used to UK hours:  2215 to 0200. Entrada was €5. I wasn’t sure who the host was. I wondered if the guy on the door was Argentinian. Later I saw him manning the bar. There was an area for coats and bags.  Feeling optimistic, I wore heels for the first time since May.  I asked a woman in the ladies about seating here and if invitation was by look. She said it was. I sensed she was quiet and confident.  Later I saw her sitting in the corner left as you come in where I noticed were some teachers who had been strutting their stuff. They were also sitting by the good partners of the guy I wanted to dance with though he stayed near the bar. 

Salon

The salon was lovely - a good size and shape. The lighting was OK. There was an unnecessary, distracting and to my taste naff video projection on the wall above the entrrance.  Prosecco at the bar was  €3,50 and the water I asked for came free with it. I think there was cake for sale. I bumped into Wim.  He runs Tango at the seaside which I haven’t been to yet. I enjoyed our dance but discovered the floor to be extremely slippy.  I was glad it was Wim I was dancing with.  I watched him choose good partners efficiently, dance and leave early. 

Music

The DJ was El Irresistible. I went to ask him about a track and realised there was a display. He was courteous but I found the music, largely from the Golden Era, not what I prefer, with many tracks I do not hear in the milongas.

Ronda and dancing

The ronda I remember as fine. There were a few nice dancers though inevitably most of these were women. There were also guys who looked like they could dance but with whom I sensed no compatibility.  In any case, they did not invite me or I missed them since I was keeping an eye out for invitation from only a couple of guys. Having just arrived in the country I was happy to watch and listen.  I had a sense from several guys of much ostensible confidence and certainty  - of wearing the right clothes, dancing the right way, doing the right, traditional thing.

Two guys walked up for dances.  I turned one down who invited in the cortina but danced with him afterwards when he tried again by look.  The other made it very difficult to refuse. I accepted a man beside me with whom I had chatted. After quite a while I decided to take a chance and accepted a man who had been trying to invite by look for a long time and from a distance. He shook my hand in introduction between tracks and danced at me rather than with me.  My knee was hurting from forced pivots and dancing that was not light and relaxed.  I decided to quit on the guys. 

I changed shoes to see if any of the women would twig.  While perched on an empty seat waiting for a pause in the music to get back to my seat a man struck up conversation.  I was grateful he did not use the opportunity to pressure me to dance.  I'd given my seat to him earlier so he could chat with his female friend who was sitting by me.  I took this photo from the end by the entrance. The glassed in room above the floor is for smokers.

Taken from the 'good dancer' corner - they were dancing.

Back in my place the women I would have liked to dance with were on the same long side as me but seated at the far end.  Feeling moving to invite by look not sufficiently discreet, I decided against it. How I miss Buenos Aires where in good milongas seating is such that you can easily see the people you want to dance with. 

I love to dance D’Agostino with quiet women, especially if I don’t know them. The woman beside me had struck up conversation and later we danced the first track of that tanda. I discovered with surprise afterwards it was the first time she had danced with a woman. You often can tell, but not in this case. Many of the woman I danced with in the Netherlands were lovely - dancing closer, more relaxed and more connectedly than many British women. 

But the tanda, as so often was unreliable. I didn’t think I could do any justice to my partner with that track and was worried all the remaining tracks might be off too. I asked if we could see what the next track was but someone was waiting for her to go anyway. Still, she came to say hello the next month at La Bruja. I regretted quitting and was frustrated by the music: not least because the third and fourth tracks were simply lovely. 

Atmosphere 

I found the people I met open and quiet, some wanting to chat.  I was introduced to a lovely man in his eighties with a disarmingly positive attitude. He sang in my ear and was delighted when I told him the men in Buenos Aires do the same.  He does not fly and will never go.  A woman I heard speaking English smiled broadly at me before I left. A good woman dancer said goodnight before she left. 

I heard the milonga’s fourth Sunday incarnation is busier and more open when more people come from outside Amsterdam. It starts much earlier and there is food. 

I liked the venue very much though with two long sides I wish there was optional separate seating for guys and girls so that you can see more easily for invitation by look and to reduce the likelihood of guys walking up.  The atmosphere was reserved but not unfriendly.  I think I would go again, preferably with a partner or friends and ideally on a Sunday but the biggest problem for me was the music though I know many would not mind it.