La Bruja - in dance and chat

There are many good dancers here I said to my friend. For that reason, I was wearing heels. Yes, most of the guys would be good for dance, she said. I watched and at first sight, bar a few exceptions that seemed to be true. I spotted a guy I recognised from a trip three years previously. My friend picked up the dance with him and then I guessed set one up for me. But after that no invitation that I was seeking from any number of the guys I would have liked to dance with was forthcoming. There were about a hundred people there. 

We sat one of the long sides at the end.  It was not ideal but we were hardly out of sight.  The distance from us to the men was at least standard compared to a traditional Buenos Aires milonga.  I sensed that, despite the good dancing, the confidence among guys here was not the same as the quiet, understated, undemonstrative assurance and experience of the older men in Buenos Aires.  They seem to know, easily who they want to dance with and are able to invite her clearly, over long distance, even when she is hesitant and inexperienced with that long-distance negotiation. They can also be very understanding.

Still, Is it me? I asked my friend, quailing, puzzled and dismayed.  She was not local but knew many there. No, she said and I knew I had expected this. It will get better, she continued. It took me a long time to know people here. It is famous for being 'closed'.  Closed in the way Berlin is often said to be closed - you have to be part of the 'in' crowd to be accepted. I heard this many times about this milonga. Many Dutch, including good dancers I met don't go to La Bruja because of this. I decided to call it quits on the guys, so leaving nothing for the fearsome creature that gnaws away at self-confidence. 

But in fact that decision, though conscious, happened quite naturally. I passed a tall woman who startled me with a wink even while I thought it great. I did not realise until later that I had cut her and some others cake while I had the knife. Was that an invitation? I asked, pleased. For a fraction of a second it was her turn to look surprised then, not missing a beat asked if I could 'lead'. So I changed my shoes and we danced. She runs a milonga in Den Bosch. 

I danced with my friend. Then a quiet blonde woman of ageless beauty who dances both roles came to chat and we danced. Two more women made it clear they wanted to dance and we did. Oh, the solace, gentleness, and subtle sensuality of women!  How nice were the calm, Dutch women - open yet still reserved.  Those were new, nerve-jangling circumstances for me but the women were not extravagantly reassuring, rather...understanding. They embraced in the best way: neither clingy nor afraid nor cold.  They were just warm, natural, relaxed and unaffected experienced dancers.  Near the end of the milonga, I invited Katia a young woman visiting from Geneva with an older man I recognised but could not place. Her freshness and her smile had a magnetism that had been very popular all evening with men and with women. We danced, swapping roles. It was fun.

I asked a Dutch friend:

- Why do you think the guys are so circumspect there?
- I know it is very status and hierarchy oriented. You don't dance with someone below your level. They try to be more Buenos Aires than Buenos Aires milongas themselves. They have a strict obsession with only cabaseo, which was very hard where we sat.
- You mean they think I am not at their level,
- No, sorry, that is not what I meant. But because of that attitude they are cautious towards strangers even towards me who doesn't visit their milonga that regularly.
- Yes they were indeed very cautious!:)  Where we were sitting was harder than for other girls but far from impossible compared to e.g. BsAs.
- Yes not impossible if they had taken the effort, but they met ten women on their way of whom they could be sure what level.
- Yes, this is true.

I wrote to a different friend afterwards:

Overall I had a nice time there because of the women but was relieved I knew someone to sit with else it could have been tough.  I enjoyed things about the milonga and other aspects of my trip but only an idiot would travel for that sort of experience repeatedly...Even if it were to get better I don't think I want to dance with any of the men at La Bruja who treated me like that on my first visit. 

But painful memories - or rather, partly-painful memories - can be short lived because I was back there in December...

La Bruja, Amsterdam

I was finally going to La Bruja!  Here is the marvellous song (D'Arienzo/ Echagüe, 1938). 

A quick shower and change after the Oosterpark afternoon milonga found me cycling past the water that fronted the quiet gardens on Stoombootweg in north Amsterdam. Seeing the water I thought immediately of toddlers and small children. Biking without helmets, water ubiquitous, these are facts of life here that the pragmatic, optimistic Dutch think about differently to us. I turned onto the Landsmeerderdirk in the summer dusk. The pretty houses soon thinned out and there were just cows, fields and a healthy farm smell. It was hard to believe I was still in Amsterdam.  I felt happy and relaxed and with that delicious feeling half of nerves going to a new place alone, half with anticipation. And this was not apparently, any old milonga. 

The venue was a long, low building behind trees. Entrada was €10. I had to sign in.  I scribbled something indecipherable and asked the girl on the door why they required it. Fire regulations I was told. In the ladies I met a dancer who showed me where to leave my things. There is a room behind the bar where you can change shoes/leave coats etc.

The salon was very nice with tables and chairs. The men tended to stay to the left of the stage as you have your back to it and the women to the right. There were also more women on the tables in front of the stage but this area was more mixed. People were dressed up for serious dancing and as everywhere that you get music, dance and men and women, the guy-girl thing rippled through the room.  Ages were very mixed.

I had heard from a few people that they don't like this venue. Why I can't fathom or remember. In Amsterdam my favourite venues to date are La Bruja (second Sunday/month), De Plantage (review here) (Fridays, and fourth Sunday/month) and El Cielo (first Sunday/month). The other main milonga that people talk about that I have not been to is Los Locos on a Tuesday. 

The lighting at La Bruja was fine. The floor was good. The bar area is attractive and the prices struck me as good value. I was not comfortable taking a photo of the salon here so when I went in December I snapped the menu instead. I think a photo would probably be fine but there is not such an easy place to get a good shot discreetly. 

Corine runs this milonga. In September she was a new bride so this was a honeymoon milonga.  She wore a simple white dress and with her handsome husband they were an attractive couple. She was very warm and hospitable.  People speak similarly warmly of her.  There was celebratory cake and champagne mid-evening. I felt people's guard and reserve come down a little and the social mix increased. 

Perhaps unusually there was a graceful dance performance by a petite, slim, very toned woman. It seemed to be something between yoga, ballet and modern dance. The performance felt rather like a gift and was well applauded.  I found this in much better taste to a performance by 'tango maestros'.

The DJ was a local - Jacob, La Jirafa who I heard DJs often here. The music was mostly very nice. It  is probably the best music I have heard so far (to Jan 2017) in the Netherlands. I noticed he also deejayed for the big milonga organised by the same team in the church De Duif as part of Tango Train. The main problem at La Bruja was that there were insufficient gaps between tracks which sometimes ran together. I found such poor sound-craft at what many people call the top milonga in Amsterdam, surprising.

The dancing, atmosphere and experience was for me like this.

Biking back to my accommodation I saw a crowd of men loitering round a car on the edge of a housing estate. I felt an adrenalin rush and my heart beat hard in helpless, I'm sure unnecessary fear but still I went by at a speed I thought good even by Dutch standards.

There had been a raffle at the milonga, with a surprising number of prizes.  I seem to get luckier with raffles as I get older and won the Bandol!  I meant to give it to my friend but evidently my memory is not undergoing the same enhancement because I forgot when I did not see her for a while, so I left it for my Airbnb hosts.

Oosterpark Sunday afternoon outdoor milonga, Amsterdam

It was lovely to be back in green Amsterdam, after empty Antwerp.

The setting of this milonga was wonderful. Video.  For milonga attendees I heard there was free ice cream from a nearby vendor in the park.

The DJ was El Irresistible  the same pleasant man I heard last time at De Plantage, or possibly his friend. A lot of the music was for me the same ropey B sides I heard before from ~1930-50s.  Towards the end, I chatted briefly to an older man, a friend of my friend about music.  He said - a kindred spirit I thought, in this respect - I don't know why DJs play less well known music.  I accepted a tanda from him months later on the strength of this but he had forgotten.  Afterwards, he clarified:  "I think there are unknown tracks that can be nice but they have to be danceable."  "But then if they are nice to dance I thought, how come they aren't well known?"  DJs who play unknown tracks always say, Oh, but they didn't exist before companies found them and made them available, but when I hear this I can't shake the feeling that I'm watching someone who likes walking on thin ice.  I find your instincts about these things improve with experience.

I was delighted to spot my friend on arrival. We sat together and caught up for a while, then as she always does she got quickly down to the real business:  the lowdown on the guys. She knows what I look for. There was a lot of variety in dance and a few nice guy dancers.  I danced with a man with a nice embrace and the unforgettable name Earl Grey.  Despite his apparently fluent Dutch I could hear the London twang in his English.  He was from the West Indies but had lived or grown up in London.  I saw a guy with curly hair and especially an older man in a checked shirt I was interested in for dance.  He looked more than once but did not invite.

The floor was quite awful, concrete, worse even than at the Waterlelie milonga and talc made no difference. I met Luciana, visiting for several weeks for work from Argentina. It was her first milonga in Amsterdam.  She mentioned how the outdoor milonga at Plaza Dorrego in Buenos Aires is easier to dance on, being tiled. We danced open hold and even so I was surprised that she did. Why surprised? she said and with that question I realised that we probably went to different milongas in Buenos Aires. 

I had my best tanda of the weekend here with a tall guy, Marko. I asked him not to pivot me and he did not at all for which I was as grateful then as I am now.

Because of the floor this for me would be more a nice place to watch, listen, hang out, chat and meet people before going on to e.g. La Bruja milonga in the evening.  That said, there was more watching than chatting going on. There is the park of course for a walk.  The Gardens De Hortus Botanicus and ARTIS, the zoo, are both nearby and would probably make a nice day out. 

I lost the route on the way back, ending up in a kind of industrial area and car park.  North Amsterdam I have thought before seems full of these so I have always been glad to be on a bike there.  I asked two confident and surprised looking Dutch couples the way. Where?! They said. Molenwijk!, I said again, dismayed as I’d thought my pronunciation not half bad.

Oh, Molenwijk! they repeated with a completely different accent.

El Centro milonga, Antwerp

El Centro was running in Lange Lozanastraat on the second Saturday of the month from 2000-0100.  I went in September 2016 from 2015-2315.  It remains one of my most miserable memories of a milonga.  But then the day had been inauspicious and the afternoon practica comically bad. 

Milonga listings in Belgium

Entrance

I paid entry to a pleasant, quiet man near the door who said in Flemish to help myself to a sweet from the basket for the ladies tanda. I asked in English if it was free seating and was told as usual that it was. I keep wondering where the first place will be where guests are appropriately seated by the host or by staff hired for this purpose as in Buenos Aires. Why are we so scared of this in Europe?

I asked where I could change my shoes.  I was told at the table was fine but I preferred the (single) ladies. It wouldn't be the best place to change outfit on site. There was space for coats near the entrance as is usual I find in mainland Europe. 

Salon

I remember a narrow area with an attractive, sizeable bar down the right hand side brightened by candles and lights. The bar area was really lit up though by the smiling face of DJ Jo Switten who that night was that milonga's greatest asset. Wine at the bar was 3.50/3.90. Water was a couple of euros.

The salon expanded to a rectangular shape with one of the short sides at the far end of the room. There was good tabled seating around the salon. There were also tables for four opposite the bar. I liked the bar and salon. There were two strips of neon lighting down the salon. Lighting was a bit dark but not as dark as it seems in the videos (below) and not too dark to invite.

Music

I had come to Antwerp especially to hear this DJ on recommendation.  The music was lovely. I would look out again for events where Jo is DJing and have since heard from a number others in the Germany and Benelux area who know and like his music. Given the dancing situation I spent the time seeing how much of the music I knew. They were pretty much all classic tracks. There are certain orchestras which I find  particularly clarifying about a DJ's taste. Canaro is one of these; also D'Agostino, De Angelis, Fresedo, OTV are also orchestras I often find particularly revealing. The Canaro tanda was great: No me pregunten por qué (1939), Lo pasao pasó (1939), both with Famá and Milagro (1937) with Maida.  I forget the other track.  I like that most show/competition dancers eschew these good tracks.  Not the social dancers though.

There were two tandas of Donato - instrumentals then songs of type Te Busco (1941) with Horacio Lagos which you can see wrecked in a beautiful room here.   I never do seem to hear enough good Donato so would not complain about hearing that orchestra twice. I think there was Tanturi with Campos then later Tanturi with Castillo. I have a note that I asked about the lack of D'Arienzo but he said it was because it was warm and we were not many.   He did later play the warm, slower D’Arienzo of type Lilián (1944) with Héctor Mauré danced here by fun blogger Irene with Man Yung. Of the tangos there was also Troilo, OTV, Calo, Malerba and Fresedo - all good. I left during the Fresedo. I think there was very fast D’Arienzo milonga later on.  I guess he had a change of heart about D'Arienzo, the numbers and the heat since I'm not sure that fast milongas come much faster than D'Arienzo.  All the milongas and vals were good. I did not hear any D'Agostino, Rodriguez, De Angelis but I was not there for the start and end.

Dancing

When I went it was more like this though it seems it can be busier. 

Most people were in their forties and older. On arrival I watched for a couple of tandas before choosing and accepting one of only two guys in an embrace. Perhaps because of this he looked more compatible with me than we were. I realise I had had misgivings even before I accepted but I suppose I did not want to fall into the “don’t dance early, don’t dance at all ” trap as I had in Stuttgart.  I felt pushed and forced and misunderstood even if the movements were small. I worried about my knee and resisted. After one track the man asked if I took lessons.  "No", I said believing I could almost hear him thinking “Ah that explains everything”. I was cross more with myself than anything and could tell my discomfort showed. I saw a much younger guy see this. I felt nervous now of the men and of my own judgement. 

I changed from heels to flats, wanting to have more control in case I made another mistake about a guy and also to see if the women were interested. I saw someone I was sure about - a tall, older man sitting with possibly his wife and friends near the bar but there was nothing doing there. He danced a very musical milonga with a sort of shuffle that I saw among the older dancers in the traditional milongas in Buenos Aires. 

There was not much in the way of gentle, subtle, quiet dancing.  A lot of guys were railroading, effectively ignoring their partners with class-style moves. Many were not dancing in a true embrace which I had been warned about by someone who had seen video and knew the dancers.  I know I can look more forbidding than I realise at the time and am generally not troubled by walk-up guys; even so I had at least four walk-ups here. Where I was sitting wasn't by any exit point to anywhere so any guy who wanted to ask directly had to pretty much walk right over from some other place meaning only those with the thickest skin would try.  This type tends to have much experience of direct refusal because they also tend to be the types who can't get dances by look. By this time I had been there coming up three hours and had danced once, badly. The last walk-up came over, asked, was turned down, couldn’t quite believe it, and said Really? I just nodded "Really" with an apologetic half-shrug.

During the evening I had come to realise that the young, quiet dark haired guy was in fact a lovely dancer and danced with many older women there, all of whom looked blissfully happy. But even if he had been interested earlier while I was not sure he no longer was and left after a lot of very quiet dancing. My confidence ebbed away.  I did not feel up to inviting women. A good young dancer arrived quite late with his girlfriend. They looked out of place. I left not long after that. There hadn’t been enough guys I wanted to dance with. If you are not choosy then I am sure you could dance a lot there but despite the nice salon I can't imagine I would ever go back.

I consider it no coincidence that one of the most bullying, arrogant, manipulative and political tango DJs I have ever met subsequently moved to this grim city.  They are a perfect fit.

Antwerp practica: TangoFabriek El Sur

The practica Tangofabriek "El Sur" on Hertsdeinstraat  in Antwerp was in a quiet, pretty area of mixed use.  A derelict factory seemed to be the venue of the eponymous practica.  The number of bikes suggested this might well be the case.

Deciding to take my borrowed bike inside for safety I found a warehouse-like space and - unusually- no sound of music. Locking the bike I found a set of steps but it was blocked with the sorts of things you might find in an attic.  Going up different steps I was disoncerted to find myself in a sort of minimalist modern garden.  I noticed a teenager working in a room with sliding doors ajar giving on to the garden.  Feeling uncomfortable  I walked past to what seemed to be a door on the far side but was not and retraced my steps.  Puzzled,  I hailed the boy who came out telling me the area was private.  With an understandable reluctance at being disturbed countered by a clear desire to be rid of me, he escorted me back to the warehouse indicating the door I had missed.  As with countless dance venues I have been to, it was by no means obvious.

I quite liked the set up.  It was a long room with a bar on one side opposite a relaxed area with table and chairs.  There was brighter more open and less comfortable seating area with bar stools just in front of the dance floor. 

Some of the music was good and some was awful drama.  It just felt fairly random.

There was a handful of couples dancing, obviously guided by the teacher. The dancing gave me the shivers.  None of it was in the embrace.  Some of it was practising without music so actually it wasn't dancing at all but attempts at synchronised movement.

It was immediately clear to me that these people had almost certainly come as couples and that per "begeleid practica met enkele nieuwe figuren", this was a very "guided" practica. There was one  tall, thin, uptight looking man alone near the bar, watching.  I sensed almost immediately that I was going to be the obvious choice as his partner being the only other free person there, female and tall to boot. In about the same moment I was almost certain I did not want to be.  But we greeted one another politely and chatted cordially until the teacher approached.  He doubled as the barman and I bought a drink.

Both men asked me if I belonged to the expat network Internations which is apparently common there. I learned that this teacher started tango dance of some kind in the city in the 1990s. He said he does not DJ because he likes to dance. He was going to be running a milonga the following day.  I had seen the venue online.  It had looked nice.

My troubles began when then the teacher announced that the tall man and I could practise together.  Now tango is a dance inherently about partner choice. It is about moving to music with the person you choose to embrace.  In my case that's a close embrace, none of this partner-as-a-shopping-trolley nonsense.     It is for this reason that a friend called third parties partnering people up for dancing tango "perverted".  I searched rapidly for a polite definition of my boundaries:

"Actually, I mostly dance the other role," I said not untruthfully but, for brevity, not with crystal clarity either.

"Oh. But you can dance as the woman?" said the teacher, pushing me into a corner.  Insistent types will do that, especially where a regular paying customer is involved. 

"Well, yes", I said. Then, sensing the imminent danger, I  turned to the tall man. "Can you?"

I didn't do so consciously then, but have since learned that when people are presumptuous one strategy is to do the same right back.  This doesn't usually end well but is interesting for the shock & realisation of how some people treat others and of course, to see the sparks.  But perhaps it wasn't fair.  The easier way might have been to just insist that I wasn't going to dance right then as the girl.  Or perhaps I should have challenged the teacher who had put me in this position instead of the guy himself.  I felt though that they were of the same ilk.  

"What?" he said, disconcerted

"Can you dance as the woman?"

"What? No!" he said, certainly surprised, clearly uncomfortable, slightly appalled.

"Do you want to try?" I said, knowing I was going too far, but thinking in fairness, he deserved the benefit of the doubt.  Perhaps he could. 

"No!" he said, horrified.

A guy not able to or refusing to ever dance as the woman with anyone is a terrible omen both of character and of dance ability.

"Why not?" I said thinking, "In for a penny, in for a pound," and curious besides.

"I’ve been learning as the man intensively for a year. And taken many private lessons" he added, as if to imply he must therefore be an excellent and a dedicated dancer.

I started to sense dogmatism more than preference in his reply and decided to counter it:
"But you do know that dancing as the woman is the fastest way to dance well as the man?"
"I don't want to dance as the woman. I want to dance as the man!"

So we left it at that and I was relieved. It wasn't unreasonable after all.  I had just wanted to make the point that he had been but I think that had been lost in his alarm. 

The couples came off the floor.  I waited to see what would happen. There were some very faint acknowledgements but everyone was evidently sticking the way they were. The atmosphere was fairly tense all round.  A relaxed atmosphere is one of the key conditions for good dancing.  

After a drink the couples returned to the floor, forming the standard gender-segregated groups facing one another while the teacher drilled them in stepping mechanically through the male steps and the female steps that were supposed to jigsaw into these. My heart sank but I stayed to watch a little more, hypnotised with a horrid fascination.  It had been so long since I had seen this sort of thing that I had nearly forgotten it really does exist, and that some are duped into paying for this miserable experience.

 "Look," said the tall man who was still watching, "the men and women are separated now, you can join." 

"Oh," I thought.  He's being charitable! He has realised I don't want to dance with him but that, since I am still here, I may still want to 'dance'" -  if you could call 'dance' the mechanical, unpartnered motions that the students were enduring.  I expect he thought I would join the women. He went to join the men. I, still thinking with foolish, vestigial hope there might be some social dancing later or that some miracle man might walk in, changed my shoes. 

I was mistaken about the charity.  After the drill the tall man approached me again and said "Well, shall we?"

Incredulity battled annoyance.  Then I thought I should again give him the benefit of the doubt on the off chance that he had had a change of heart.

"Who is going to be the woman?" I said, carefully.

"You!"

"No!" I said becoming cross at my decided preference and clarity on this point falling on such deaf ears. Who would want to dance chest to chest with a man in a dance that is all about listening to the other body, when even his ears don't hear what you say or the connection between brain and ears is apparently severed?  But in class the point about the physical, intuitive response to one another is never made because class dancing is about leading and following not sense and response and mutual awareness.  That sort of thing, anyway, doesn't lend itself to explanation. 

I ought to have left it at that but decided strong attack was now the better form of defence.  Besides I was riled.  Was I some kind of moving object to do his bidding?  I had stated a preference which had anyway been a mere charade to draw a polite veil over "You shouldn't be asking, not once, and certainly not twice.  I don't want to dance with you".
"How about you be the woman?" I said now knowing  I was entering dangerous territory.

Still, I didn’t want to appear - what? As though I knew my own mind?  Difficult? Willing to do what I didn't want? So I suggested a compromise: "Or, we can swap turn and about?" 

"No!" He said, getting angry. "I will not dance as the woman."

Considering I was already way out on a limb I decided to appear, for fun, especially reasonable.   "OK. To be clear though, I am happy to dance as the woman 50%," I said, earnestly.

"No!" he said, really annoyed now.

Within minutes he left in what felt like cold anger. Five minutes later, so did I. I could almost hear my father saying: "So you charmed them again, did you?"

That was before I heard his real view.