[TANGO-L] Randy Does Rio, Part 5

[randy cook <randycook95476 @YAHOO.COM>]

"Of Turtles, Teddy Bears, and Tango

Andre is a tall young man, long-legged and limber.
His wife, Alice, is a personal trainer in Ipanema.
Together they have created a style that combines the
precise footwork of tango and the bodily looseness of
samba.

Their trademark is swirling turns with front and back
sacadas.  Watching them, I think of windmills in
Holland, ocean waves, and fishermen casting their
lines.  I get to watch a lot, because Andre and Alice
love to demonstrate.  During our class, they repeat
the patterns over and over again, until my eyes begin
to blur and all I see is the swish of the loose cotton
fabric of their legwear.

I turn to my partner, a short, chubby woman of middle
years.  I embrace her gently, because I want to
transfer some of the soft wind and water power that I
have just witnessed in the demonstration.  But it is
like trying to get a turtle to fly.

We begin the pattern.  My partner struggles valiantly
to do the molinete.  This is very hard for her, since
she comes to a complete stop with each step.  My eye
catches a glimpse of her broad midsection and her
stubby legs in the open position, waiting to receive
my sacada.

I pivot, aim, and fire.  Since my partner is standing
still, my sacada nearly knocks her over.  Desperately,
she grasps my shoulder and hangs on as I try to
transfer my weight and finish the step.  She winds up
in my arms, heart pounding, all semblance of posture
abandoned.  I am her life raft on a stormy sea.

"Troque!"  Andre and Alice tell us to change.  One by
one I get to try most of the ladies in the class.
They are nearly all flat-footed beginners with no
axis, no posture, no flexibility, no conception of how
to move.  This was supposed to be an advanced class.

Frustrated, I look around to see how the other couples
are doing.  I see no windmills, ocean waves or
fishermen casting their lines.  I see men wrestling
with turtles, storks, camels and teddy bears.

The men are mostly good dancers.  I believe they are
capable of doing the patterns.  But not with partners
who can't stand on one leg without falling over.

How did this happen?  Why are the men so good and the
women so bad?  I know that there are good followers in
Rio.  I've seen them at the milongas.  I have even had
the good fortune of dancing with some of them.  But I
can't imagine where they learned.  It seems only the
beginners come to class.

Then I get a new partner.  She is a pleasant looking
blonde woman with a good figure in a soft woolen
blouse.  Her hands are soft too, and as she rests her
arm on my shoulder, I feel that she is relaxed.  She
says her name is Lisou, like the tango by Quarteto
Almagro.

After two hours of dancing in chains, it is such a
relief to dance with someone who can actually...dance.

Andre and Alice announce the end of class.  They turn
down the lights and tell us to "bailar libre"--to
dance freely.  With Lisou, this comes easily.  I'm not
trying to practice the steps we have been working on,
yet I find them appearing in our dance like sea otter
or dolphins, poking their heads out of the water and
asking us to play.  I feel the windpower, the ocean
waves, the "mill" in the molinete.

With Lisou, I remember why it is I love to dance.

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