*Note: for some of the non-tango dancers who may be reading this blog, a tanda is a set of songs, usually played by the same orchestra, ranging from about 3-5 songs each (usually 4).
I was chatting with a friend in Taiwan at the milonga last night, and we talked about the concept of continuous tandas.
I've mostly danced in North America, so I'm accustomed to dancing multiple tandas with people I really enjoy dancing with. Even if I have intense feelings on the dance floor, I'm able to shut off as I leave the dance floor. My Taiwanese friend, however, noted that if someone dances many tandas in a row, there is definitely "something" going on.
I explained that I did it all the time. He was surprised. Surely they hit on you? Nope. There was often some mild flirtation, but nobody ever expected to take me home just because they danced with me for many tandas. Anything remotely close to a tango relationship I had always blossomed off of the dance floor, through meals, hanging out (in a non-tango setting), chatting...
I've never been to Argentina, but I hear that the culture there is rather different (or perhaps even similar to Taiwan). Friends tell me that multiple tandas = coffee, and coffee = bed.
A good dance connection CAN lead to hanging out, which *may* blossom into something else, but this means that you were compatible in the first place, outside of the context of dancing.
When I was in my first ever tango class and was in the same class as a gorgeous charismatic young man. On the first day I gladly rotated to him. By the end of the class I was trying to avoid him. He stepped on my toes too much and didn't care about tango as much as he cared about flirting.
My theory is that tango nerds often find other tango nerds wildly attractive. Those who invest a lot of time on the dance and music (and not necessarily sex) get an advantage. They'll also (in North America) dance more continuous tandas. But for me (and most North American dancers), multiple tandas only mean that I really enjoy dancing with someone. And I enjoy dancing with their personalities. (There are a few decent dancers I refuse to dance with because they're not nice people).
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Why I Love and Hate the Cabeceo
*Note: Back when I wrote this post, I'd been spelling it as "cabaceo." I've since been corrected (thanks, Terpsichoral TangoAddict!). It's "cabeceo," and it comes from "cabeza," which means "head."*
Several years ago at the Houston Tango Marathon, I arrived at a milonga and suddenly felt a piercing gaze from the back of my skull. I turned around, and in the farthest away corner of the room, a man I'd never met before clearly but subtly gestured me towards the dance floor.
I accepted immediately. Anyone who is able to cabeceo me as such a distance must know what he's doing, I thought. And I was right; he was wonderful. We ended up dancing perhaps 20 tandas over the weekend. I began to really like the cabeceo. I would use it from the other side of the room for people I wanted to dance with, and felt like I had my own little secret when someone cabeceo'd me. In fact, I started to fear the men who walked up right to my face and stuck their hands in my nose; more often than not, these men were as subtle in their dance as their "invitation."
So I began to love the cabeceo. A way for someone to ask another to dance without risk of losing face. Even I began to initiate the invitation more. I was usually so shy!
But I also realized something I began to do. On days I wanted to sit and chat with friends, or just rest, I would often keep my eyes downcast, or even suddenly dive into my purse to look for something when I felt a pair of eyes burning into the back of my skull. People talked about the tango community being cold and unfriendly. I think it was largely due to the cabeceo culture! People make much less eye contact for acknowledgement (something Americans do ALL the time, everywhere), and I even found that there were times dancers said hello less or chatted less with people they didn't want to dance with, even though they loved being around them! The culture of the milonga was driving people who could have been really good friends away from each other.
So I began to hate the cabeceo. A way for someone to shut someone out---not even intentionally, just because they didn't want to dance. When someone ignores a cabeceo repeatedly, it feels like they're ignoring YOU. And trust me; I've felt it.
I still have a love-hate relationship with the cabeceo, but here is a tip I've found that's worked for me for getting dances with strangers: I go out of my way to introduce myself to people I want to dance with, and express interest in dancing with them **at some point** (but not necessarily now!). That way, they know the invitation is open and they could approach me at any time (even verbally). This is the tactic I use most often at festivals. On a Friday night, I'd find someone I wanted to dance with at the END of a milonga (when there's no pressure), and tell them my name, and that I had a lot of fun watching them dance. They can then watch me in the upcoming nights and decide on their own whether or not to approach me.
How can we can make tango communities warmer? Do you love, hate, or love AND hate the cabeceo?
Several years ago at the Houston Tango Marathon, I arrived at a milonga and suddenly felt a piercing gaze from the back of my skull. I turned around, and in the farthest away corner of the room, a man I'd never met before clearly but subtly gestured me towards the dance floor.
I accepted immediately. Anyone who is able to cabeceo me as such a distance must know what he's doing, I thought. And I was right; he was wonderful. We ended up dancing perhaps 20 tandas over the weekend. I began to really like the cabeceo. I would use it from the other side of the room for people I wanted to dance with, and felt like I had my own little secret when someone cabeceo'd me. In fact, I started to fear the men who walked up right to my face and stuck their hands in my nose; more often than not, these men were as subtle in their dance as their "invitation."
So I began to love the cabeceo. A way for someone to ask another to dance without risk of losing face. Even I began to initiate the invitation more. I was usually so shy!
But I also realized something I began to do. On days I wanted to sit and chat with friends, or just rest, I would often keep my eyes downcast, or even suddenly dive into my purse to look for something when I felt a pair of eyes burning into the back of my skull. People talked about the tango community being cold and unfriendly. I think it was largely due to the cabeceo culture! People make much less eye contact for acknowledgement (something Americans do ALL the time, everywhere), and I even found that there were times dancers said hello less or chatted less with people they didn't want to dance with, even though they loved being around them! The culture of the milonga was driving people who could have been really good friends away from each other.
So I began to hate the cabeceo. A way for someone to shut someone out---not even intentionally, just because they didn't want to dance. When someone ignores a cabeceo repeatedly, it feels like they're ignoring YOU. And trust me; I've felt it.
I still have a love-hate relationship with the cabeceo, but here is a tip I've found that's worked for me for getting dances with strangers: I go out of my way to introduce myself to people I want to dance with, and express interest in dancing with them **at some point** (but not necessarily now!). That way, they know the invitation is open and they could approach me at any time (even verbally). This is the tactic I use most often at festivals. On a Friday night, I'd find someone I wanted to dance with at the END of a milonga (when there's no pressure), and tell them my name, and that I had a lot of fun watching them dance. They can then watch me in the upcoming nights and decide on their own whether or not to approach me.
How can we can make tango communities warmer? Do you love, hate, or love AND hate the cabeceo?
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