Friday, May 25th, 2001 - Woke up all too early, the day after I went on a date with my car (for a wash, oil change, etc.), shook the rosary hanging off of my rear-view mirror and was on my way. The first-stop in my whirlwind 2 month tango tour - Klamath Falls, Oregon. I taught there last month and was pleased by how many people showed up (around 25 or so) and for their enthusiasm for learning. Going back I was going to see who was still interested - something that I can never help taking personally, if people show up or not. While I was driving down I had the tango "Manhana zarpa un barco," the Demare/Beron version, stuck in my head. What a combination! Fascinating too how my tango preferences have changed over the years. After a year of dancing I remember saying to everyone that a milonga that didn't play Pugliese was not worth going to for me. The more big and dramatic Pugliese that was played in a milonga, the better time I had. I always waited for the first two notes of "Emancipacion" to start up - immediately giving me goose-bumps and making me hunt savagely for a follower to dance with - like some ridiculous Neanderthal looking for game. Anyway, there's some sort of freedom now that I feel dancing to the Demare/Beron combination that Pugliese can't give me. With Pugliese I need to move and pause - really move a lot and really pause a lot - in a way I feel locked into his tangos by dancing the driving rhythmic parts big and the lyrical B sections with more pauses. In the midst of repeating the first sentence of the song a million times I was planning the class for the evening. Driving is always a peaceful time for me when I can think without interruption (except getting gas and push-starting my car!). So I planned a mix review/continuation of where I had left off in April. Teaching beginners is a fascinating puzzle -- you have to mix your desires for the students with not only the student's expectations for the class, but also their skill level (...if a total beginner wanted to learn ganchos would you teach it to him?). This is relatively simple to do next to the fact that in group classes you have to balance these three things among ALL the students. That's what makes it the most fun sometimes. So, my car made it without a hitch, and I arrived in K. Falls early. I walked up and down the main drag and took note of the high frequency of banks and antique shops, had an over-priced bagel and coffee and headed back to the studio. I first taught a private that went well, a couple, and then waited for the group class to begin. By 6pm (when the class was supposed to start) there were only 6 people (gulp!). Everyone immediately came up with excuses ("it's Memorial Day weekend," "the weather's really nice out," etc.), but I can never help blaming myself as a teacher in these situations. A similar thing occurred in Anchorage last October, though I think it was more the lack of publicity there than anything (some people received the flyer for the workshops a day after they had started!). So the organizer in K. Falls asked if I wanted to do the class. I said "Sure!" and had a nice 2 hour session with the 6 women that were there. I figured if you want to get tango going in a community you have to be patient as a resident of that city, and willing to work for peanuts as a teacher. Hopefully K. Falls will take off and tango will grow. We'll see... I stayed at someone's house that night and in the morning we talked a little about social dancing in general. She said about a year ago they had a world champion ballroom dance instructor come through the teach. He apparently wanted to make world champions out of people that just wanted to social dance - even strikingly an open fist on the lower back of students to get them to stand up straight! The next day no one showed up to his class. We also talked a little bit about pretentiousness in dancing and the perils of an overly competitive attitude. I had a pleasant stay and a pleasant meal and was off Saturday morning to San Francisco.

Saturday, May 26th, 2001 - It was a pretty warm day and my mistake to roll down my window and drive with my left arm out the window the whole way. I ended up with a burn on one arm, contrasting very nicely with my pale, sun-deprived right arm. I had to push-start my car once in Redding after getting gas, but otherwise my car performed amazingly well (I'll take it on another date when I get back). I got into Emeryville around 6pm, had dinner with some friends with the usual interesting chats about tango philosophy, and then headed to the Beat to DJ at the all-night milonga. I one interesting chat regarding the idea of connecting with your partner while dancing. It seemed to him and me that there are some people who connect with others in a more technical way -- that a certain lack of technical skill equaled the total absence of a connection, and that for others the connection was less about technique, and more about "onda" or the chemistry that you have with a person. Relating to myself, I know that I've connected with beginners, but never with total beginners (less than a few weeks of dancing) in the dance. Personality-wise I've clicked, but there's something in the motions of the dance that expresses something profound and non-verbal. I sometimes half-kiddingly tell people that I enjoy dancing with followers that have either danced for less than 3 months, or more than 3 years. I think in both there is a certain relaxedness about the dance -- sometimes, in my experience, the ones who are trying to hard to perfect their dance are the ones I enjoy dancing with the least (there are exceptions, of course!). I guess also I try to connect more in the embrace, than in anything else. Connectedness is sometimes only talked about with regards to movement, but there is something for me independently special in a nice embrace (or as a friend once said when asked why he danced tango "I just want to hold a person in my arms."). I also love tango music and I guess it's a way of having everything I want in one situation -- to feel, listen, and live. So, Hernan Obispo and Marianna Dragone taught the lesson before the milonga. The started off with an exercise that gave them away as students of the Dinzels. I learned a bit about dancing and teaching -- I've never been to any class, tango or otherwise, where I came away empty-handed. They were clear in there view of the dance (that tango dancing is defined by dancing closer than other forms of social dance), and there exercises and sequences carried out there intentions very well (teaching a crossed-foot basic b/c it allows you to be closer to each other. There were about 20 people or so. Then the night began... I've spoken with Heidrun on several occasions of how it feels strange to arrive in a city after traveling a distance -- she says that it takes the soul some time to arrive. So I guess my soul wasn't in Berkeley yet. I felt like I couldn't connect in the dance with people that I usually always have good dances with. This mental state seemed to make the dancing worse (by trying to think my way out of a mental state -- what an impossibility!). It seemed to only get worse. Then Chris asked me to dance and rescued my evening so to speak. Maybe something about following put me in a different mind frame that then allowed me to enjoy the rest of the evening as a leader. Thanks Chris! I think a similar situation occurs with those dancers who try their hardest to be the "best" Argentine tango dancer around. First of all it would be impossible to judge something like that given the variety of styles, moods, chemistries, etc. and second of all only serves to put one in a mental state ("I need to be the best dancer here") that is self-destructive because there is never a letting go -- never setting thoughts aside and putting feelings in the forefront. I know this because I had/still have a little of this competitive edge -- especially when I am compared to other leaders. For me I'd rather not be criticized or complimented next to anyone else. How would that make the one I'm being compared to feel if someone said to me "your lead is better than so-and-so's lead"? How would it make me feel if I was the one on the inferior end of the stick? I think we're all better off just trying to connect in the moment with the person we're dancing with and not try to create a fictitious hierarchical tango world. Aah, how refreshing it would be!!! Another comment that disgusts me (and I have heard similar things from leaders in the US, Europe, and Buenos Aires) is when leaders "rate" a follower by how good she is dancing in one particular night. How pretentious, egotistical and plain rude can these leaders really be? Why don't they ever rate themselves? I see and hear a lot of damaging things on and off the dance floor which is part of, I guess, what we could call the dark side of the tango. The night went by quicker than usual, even though there were about 8 of us at the end (6:45am). I thought about perhaps having a mini-marathon milonga in San Francisco -- it always seems like there are a few die hards that would like to stay until their bodies physically said "not one more step." I'd like to try to satisfy these dancers more... So we crashed for the "night." At 3:30pm on Sunday I woke up, taught a private, and drove down to Cupertino to say hi to the mom. I pulled my usual few hour visit, and this morning woke up at 4am to catch a plane to Munich.

Monday, May 28th - I've been reading "the Mind's Eye," and it has set me thinking about something that bothered me some time ago - a tango puzzle with an infinite loop. The puzzle stems from the expression "bailas como sos" or taken to a slightly different level, that you dance how you feel and what is on your mind. In a way the expression could be interpreted to say something like "the way you dance reflects what you were doing that afternoon, or what you were feeling or thinking about." My puzzle is this: what if my tango reflected my tango? Right now for me Argentine tango is my profession (as a teacher), my hobby (as a dancer and listener of tangos), my dream (to spread tango everywhere I go and to meet new people), my desire (every night I dance I look for the same thing), and it is constantly on my mind, in my conversations, analogies, metaphors, dreams, musical compositions, and writing. So when I'm dancing what am I reflecting on? Can a dance fold-in on itself into an infinite loop? Can one dance reflect itself as it is happening? That's not to say that I don't have experiences outside of tango, but the argument still intrigues me... The other topic that I've been dwelling on here in this cramped Boeing 767 is the different places my consciousness focuses on while dancing. I've come up with several ideas, though by no means am I proclaiming anything in concrete -- just one way of labeling or categorizing what I experience when I dance.

1. There is the "I", which is where I'm conscious of my consciousness while I'm dancing.
2. There is the consciousness that my partner is conscious (what is he or she thinking/feeling?)
3. There is a consciousness of my own body -- like my "I" is taking a journey through my body, checking if I'm standing up straight, if my shoulders are relaxed, etc.
4. There is a consciousness of the body of the person I'm dancing with. This is a similar experience to 2., where my "I" seems to travel through my partner's body -- registering if he or she is relaxed in the shoulders, standing up straight, etc.
5. There is a consciousness of the music -- this is where the music seems to be choreographing the steps for me -- taking control of my body in a way.
6. There is a consciousness of other couples on the dance floor. This usually only happens when there are bad navigators around me, and only serves to distract me away from being connected with my partner and the music.
7. There is a consciousness of those standing on the sidelines watching me (this is also the case when I see myself in a mirror while dancing). When I'm in this mental state I seem to worry too much about impressing those watching and being overly self-critical with what I'm doing and thus distracting me from my partner and dancing.
8. And lastly, there is a sort of non-consciousness, or super-consciousness (for lack of a better word), where my mind seems to be on auto-pilot (or the pilot which is my super-conscious mind)-- forgetting that I'm leading or following, or where I am, or even that I'm listening or dancing tango (this for me is the ultimate in connectedness and is what I always look for, though again by the mere act of searching for it I am in a conscious mental state and can never achieve this non-consciousness!)

Tuesday the 29th - Whoa, major jet-lag/ tango-lag! Coming from dancing all night, to waking up at 4am, to arriving in a country that is 9 hours ahead -- who knows what time zone my body-clock is in right now. Mixed in with allergies and the new climate, I'm in a state (I'm getting old...). A little Chi Kung, dinner, and then we'll be off to the milonga at Max E here in Munich to demo and advertise this Saturday's "Tango fuer feinschmecker" -- the German version of my Tango A La Carte classes. Wow, what a great night! There weren't many people there (it was warm and the Biergarten was open), but those who were were the friendly ones. I started off with a great set with Heidrun and then tried to dance with a bunch of different people. Sometimes I'm in the mood to dance with only one or two people, and other nights I have the feeling like I want to dance (and can have a successful dance) everyone. People seemed friendlier to me as well. Maybe it had to do with where we were sitting. Usually it's so packed we get a table in the back, but this night we got a table near the bar and dance floor and all the people I've seen before greeted me warmly. I think it was also nice because there weren't too many people. I think if you have a large space with a lot of dancers it an almost sure recipe for disaster. 's one thing really takes me out of the tango zone as well -- when I have to make a strong conscious effort to avoid reckless dancers on the floor. There seems to be a trend in the close embrace dancing here -- the follows are following by sticking their belly way out and are not really connecting strongly in the upper torso. For me, and my height, it makes less room down where the legs are to move and at times can make me feel a little too limited in the movements I'm able to make. If I adjust by dancing only from my belly then it works ok, but if I try to make a connection with my sternum or lower ribs, then the follow feels a little heavy for me -- like I would have to push her around to lead her, which I don't wish to do. Anyway, I had a great time...

Wednesday the 30th - Today I woke up at a fairly reasonable hour and started outlining the material for my classes coming up here in Munich and for Italy. The class this Saturday already has ~ 25 pre-registered, the majority of which have taken my workshops here before! It's a good sign for me as a teacher I should keep teaching. We ran some errands, took a walk to a nearby lake (it's definitely summer here) where I promptly burned again -- though now at least my right arm matches my left. My allergies were worse today, and I'm starting having mild breathing problems like last summer in Sweden and last December in Buenos Aires. It's strange now this only happens when I travel. I have yet to find out what's really causing it. mixed in with really itchy eyes and sneezing makes it almost impossible to do anything except lie down with a cold wet towel over my face or sketch out classes or compositions. What a pain!

Thursday the 31st - Well, the allergies have turned into a fever and it looks like I'll be bed ridden for the next day or two. Bummer...missed a good practica.

Friday, June 1st, 2001 - Still sick, but recovering quickly. Tomorrow I give a workshop here, so I'm trying hard to make myself want to sty home tonight (and not go dancing).

Saturday the 2nd - Wow, I really enjoy the format of having 1 hour classes separated by lots of practice time and a potluck lunch in between. 27 people showed up - Heidrun and I were both surprised because I didn't do any demos and the German holiday was just beginning. It would make an interesting study to find out when is the best time to hold a workshop. Of course there are too many variables, but sometimes the extremes of the spectrum (sometimes many people, sometimes hardly anyone) make me want to study it. Also it was very interesting that I woke up coughing and having a minor breathing problems, but while I was teaching my mind and body totally forgot about any allergies or sickness. Right when the workshops finished I let out a cough, and that evening was back to where I was the previous night. Komala and Stefan paid us a visit staying at Hedirun's place -- I really enjoy their company. Saturday morning, in a small apartment built for one person, with 4 people and a dog eating breakfast, Komala asked if they could watch the workshops. I said yes, of course, and then realized I was a little nervous knowing that they would be there -- I don't know why really -- I knew they wouldn't be harshly critical or anything, but still it made my nerves fire up and my adrenaline start to pour a little. The 27 in the workshop were of a pretty homogeneous level, which made teaching that much easier. It felt good as well that by the end of every class at least 90% of the class understood and could execute the material. That evening we went to two milongas. We started at the Taverna Odyssee which is held every first and third Saturday and at one time was the hippest milonga in Munich (as far as I could see). So we went, but every time I dance there I never really connect with anyone -- there's something in the air that prevents me from dancing well -- or prevents me rather from letting go completely. The music and floor are great, and the ambiance is dark and warm -- just how I like it. The is even a bar and you can order food. Everything seems perfect, but nonetheless I consistently have problems dancing there. It was also very strange because Stefan was having a blast -- he hadn't danced in Munich in several years and seemed to be connecting and having a good time with many people. Komala and Heidrun were also getting nice dances. So I sat in the corner and pondered, danced a few and then shrank away, waiting for the bus to leave to the next milonga. Around 1am we decided to head to the Munich Beach Club, where contrary to the Taverna, I consistently enjoy dancing. There were a decent number of people considering how late is was. I danced a bunch and had more success -- though the floor is the pits (imagine dancing on an old wharf), and the music is overly-dramatic for my taste. I think my body just needed to get all the shit out of the system from being sick and moping all week. The next day would have to be better...

Sunday the 3rd - We woke up late (as is usual these days), the 4 of us had a nice breakfast together, I got some chores done, and by the time everything was finished it was around 7pm. I was dying for a schnitzel -- it's sort of my routine or tradition whenever I'm in Munich -- to head to the restaurant "Steinheil" and have a schnitzel that's bigger than the plate itself! So there was no stopping me really and the other 3 figured that this crazy American really needed this schnitzel badly like tango dancer needs a partner. I consumed not only the schnitzel, but a salad and french fries in less time than La Cumparsita. I started eyeing the other's schnitzel and they cautiously handed over some of their meal to this savage schnitzel-eating tango beast. After the meal I could do nothing but smile and smile and smile some more. We headed to the milonga "Aficionado" which is a foofy cigar-bar with a dance floor right in the center. I remember going to one of the first ones and there weren't very many people there, but now the place was packed. We barely found a place to put our coats and I had to change my shoes standing up. From the first dance to the last I connected with everyone and everything. I didn't have my dance shoes and easily decided that dancing in socks was the way to go -- Maybe it was a little stupid, I don't know -- there were a bizzillion people and 1/2 of them were navigating like they had learned tango yesterday. Dancing in socks in this place and not getting stepped on would definitely be a good iniation test to get into some strange tango cult. Well, luckily I didn't get stepped on, and it was kind of fun becasue as I was dancing around the floor I kept hearing people mutter "...socken..." (socks - in German). I like dancing in socks in a way -- I can really feel the floor without shoes better than eith shoes. Also I recently bought some dance sneakers which are wonderful if you have to be on your feet for a long time, but they are so high off the ground, and mine have an air pocket in the soles ("Air Tango") that I never really feel like part of the floor. The music was ok, but imagine ok music with tons of bad navigators and cigarette and cigar stink -- seems like a recipe for not connecting, but nothing could stop me after that schnitzel!

Monday the 4th through Thursday - We had to wake up at an early hour to get an early start on our drive to the Cinque Terre in Italy. We ate something with Komala and Stefan, said our goodbyes, and were on the road south. After 45 minutes I realized I had forgotten my passport and what a pity it would be to have to drive to the Italian border only to have to turn around again to get my passport. So we turned around, got my passport and were on the road again (though as it turns out I would never need my passport on the Italian trip). We decided to have a little 3 day vacation in the Cinque Terre before heading to Modigliana to teach over the weekend. Wow, it was really incredible. We had nice weather, my allergies and sickness cleared up a little and the place is really spectacular. The Cinque Terre is five old, small cities that you can only move between by foot or by train. The architecture of the houses reminds one of the stylings of Hunderdwasser, or Caminito in Buenos Aires -- bright pinks, yellows, blues, and oranges and not a lot of straight lines. There's something very aesthetically pleasing that accompanies "imperfection" (maybe something like Thelonious Monk's statment - "Perfect the imperfect."). It lies south of Genoa along the Italian Riviera. There wasn't any dancing, but I guess I could live three days here without any thought or action of dancing.

Friday, June 8th - From Porto Venere and the Cinque Terre we drove to Bologna to meet a friend and get information about the weekend tango retreat near Bologna in Modigliana. They called it "Un tranquillo weekend di tango" which was the best description for it because it was so relaxed. We drove there in the evening, along a small countryside road from Faenza. The smells were incredible! This time of year there must be a special flower blooming that gives off a scent of a delicate sweet perfume. But along this road every curve had a new smell - of fresh water, horses, a bakery... Our friend Gabriella had told us about how great the food would be and when we arrived we tasted what she meant -- pasta, antipasta (which reminds me of George Carlin's "If you eat antipasta and pasta is it like eating nothing at all?"), prima piatti, segunda piatti, meats, croissants and crostatte with capuchino for breakfast...MMmmmmmmmm, yummy stuff. Half of it I had never heard of before, and most of it had a familiar base of pasta, veal, or beef, but the sauces were all unique and rich. I also was never too much of a fan of white wine, but this stuff (which they made there -- the place was something like a farm/inn/restaurant/vineyard) was beatiful. At the end of the weekend I bought a bottle of it (which they took from a big jug, poured into an unlabeled bottle and corked by hand) along with some of their homemade kiwi marmelata and honey. Ok, get me going on good food and I could write a book (maybe keep a separate "food journal?"). The first tango class, labeled "fundamentals and technique for all levels," and which started 45 minutes late, went well, though the people weren't really used to us. I can always tell when I'm a stranger somewhere -- I feel like I'm not on the inside of the group yet. So, most people were solid intermediate dancers and it was fun -- though again the first class is usually more of a "teacher getting used to students and students getting used to the teacher" type of class. I covered the things I thought were important - making a list before-hand of the most important things to me in tango dancing: navigation, connecting, walking, and musicality all with comfort and without force. The class was a mix of my improvising and successful exercises I've used in the past. After the class the milonga started. I was the DJ. The floor was concrete (though most floors in the area are usually concrete or stone). The hall was a little large for the number of people that were there (maybe 50 or so). Nonetheless we had a good time staying up until around 4am dancing. The dancers there seemed to prefer the heavy metal tangos of DeAngelis, Los Reyes de Tango as opposed to D'Agostino/Vargas and Tanturi/Campos/Castillo. They also enjoyed very much the "non-tango tangos" that I played at the end of the evening -- even applauding after several of them!

Saturday, June 9th - Set the alarm for 10:30am so that we could get up in time for the "Tango Yoga" class at noon. The breakfast was delicious, the sun was out, everyone was lazing around. The yoga felt soooo good, though the next morning I felt overstretched and had sore legs for the next few days. I'm starting to really enjoy this kind of body-work in the morning (Qi Gong is what I usually do, though yoga was a welcome change this day), to relax, loosen up the body and to get the feeling like everything is flowing more freely. The first milonga class was scheduled to start at 3pm, though because of the degree of our southern latitude started around 3:30pm. The group was more accustomed to us and seemed to open up a little more. It's also always fun to teach milonga because the energy never goes down -- the music itself creates the perfect "upper" for the entire 1.5 hours. I did some simple things -- working mostly with traspie (having them feel that the upper body motion of traspie is really twice as slow as the regular milonga beat, instead of moving twice as fast, or having them pretend that they drank a little of that luscious white wine and to walk laid back and funky). The level of most of the dancers was about the same and Heidrun and I were surprised that we covered all the material that we set out to teach -- normally we have to spend extra time with one theme or piece of technique until the majority get it in their body. The second class started on Italian time as well -- an advanced milonga class. It went well also, though there were fewer people. The dinner was delicioso -- Heidrun and I had things that we had never tried before (Capriole and Vitello Atunata). After dinner we taught a Chacarera class that was so fun! It was strange though because there were maybe 10 people in the class and 20 people watching the class! The zapateo was difficult for the men, as usual, but I told them to just have fun with it and to remember "Sal-chi-cha con pan, sal-chi-cha con pan, etc." After an hour everyone had the choreography down and it looked wonderful. The milonga started and I was the DJ by default (there wasn't anyone else with a collection of tango CD's). Heidrun and I were expected to do a demo. I asked Heidrun what she wanted to dance -- she wasn't sure either, maybe "Pata Ancha." I pondered dancing to something a little more rhythmic becasue that musci suits the way I move a little better, but in the end decided that "Pata Ancha" had a nice mix of strong phrases contrasting with lyrical passages. The demo went very well, and the audience seemed to enjoy it. As I went back to the console to put on the regular dancing music again they started yelling out things in Italian, and then in unison started clapping for another. I smiled and obliged and chose Mary Lea's vals "Cascata de Lagrimas" to dance to. I never realized the contradiction in this piece before dancing in a demo to it. On the surface it sounds like it moves quite rapidly and consistently like a train, but it is in fact a quite slow vals. I was always torn between really moving and stepping more legato and with more hang-time in each step. While we were dancing Heidrun said a few times "slow, slow" and I can understand her saying it because she likes dancing slower, but in my mind, mixed with adrenal fluids, it was 3-1/2 minutes of interpretive entropy on my behalf. Nonetheless it went well, but we were not as connected with each other, and I was not as connected with the music. They applauded and was my timid self -- not knowing whether to stand tall and proud or to hide from all the attention. Humbleness in these situations is my tendency. I went back to the console and put on some calm music, but again they started yelling and clapping, this time I understood what they were saying -- "Mi-lon-ga! Mi-lon-ga!" I was sweating profusely from the previous two, but searched for Melingo's "Narigon" and we danced. Later after watching the video of the performance, the milonga really stood out. It's a rhythmic piece of music that really fits my movement and it turned out very nicely. I think one thing I need to work on is how to walk to Pugliese better. I feel the intensity in his tangos and my body wants to burst out, but whenever I see myself on video I realize that I can stretch out every step more and relax my free leg -- not subduing the intensity, but channeling it in a different way -- spreading out the energy more in every beat. So, after Melingo I put on music for dancing which lasted until around 5am or so. Around 3am we put on a chacarera and 3 couples danced to it -- much fun, and a nice break. Again I p[layed a selection of non-tango tangos near the end and they were appreciated. Perhaps that is a good format for playing different music -- near the end instead of trying to mix it in too much in the earlier part of the evening.

Sunday, June 10th - I set the alarm again for 10:30am to try to make it to the Tango Yoga class at noon, but after realizing that I was pooped and that my muscles were screaming "No, please, no more stretching!!!" I turned it off and woke up again around 1pm. They had finished breakfast in the kitchen, but we convinced them to give us whatever they had leftover -- crostatte di mela and a cappuchino. Heidrun then gave an impromptu followers' class from 2-3pm. I took the class too, because the stuff she concentrates on is excellent work for recognizing subtle things and for getting the body to move in a more relaxed and fluid way -- great both for function and the aesthethics of movement. At 3:45pm (advertised to begin at 3pm) we taught a close embrace class -- which I'm always fond of -- covering the connection in the embrace and a nice little way to "lead the lean" with a nice little sequence using the lean. The second class was on boleos. It seemed like in the beginning most were not used to the contra-motion lead for a boleo and few seemd like they did many front boleos. In this class more than the others I feel we made a lot of progress with the students, and even had time for them to do some exploration on their own. We started by having the followers follow by just holding onto the leader's waist. Then we explained that the lead comes from the entire body, not just the upper torso, or arms, or legs. We had the leaders then just stand with their feet apart with follower in front of them and had them pivot their follower on her axis while working with the followers to relax their free leg and not force the motion of the boleo. We then explained the contrary movement in the lead and the "strong rubber" quality that the followers should explore in their bodies. We went around to every couple and agreed that bpth the leads and follows were doing well -- that we could move on. Normally we spend much more time just working with this exercise, but we moved on and showed them a nice small sequence to fit it into. Then they had to find their own entrance and exit, we played a game, I told them a secret, and the class was done. The two classes went very well, due largely in part that the group and teacher were now comfortable with each other which made the learning process faster and easier. We had a nice dinner, and after a little wine we started doing imitations of different tango dancers (mostly the ones who were in our company) and had much fun. Before we left Heidrun and I stood outside in the dark overlooking a field, the vineyard and then the town and castle of Modigliana below. There were hundreds of fire-flies lighting up the field in such a random pattern -- it was really an amazing sight especially since I don't think I had ever seen one fire-fly in my life! We drove back to Bologna and were completely wasted. Gabriella and a friend of hers went to a milonga in Bologna at 1am (the same milonga were I did a demo imitating Pupi Castello last January), but Heidrun and I could barely stay awake and decided to hit the hay. *Zzzzz*

Monday-Tuesday - These two days were spent to giving a bunch of private lessons in Bologna. Monday evening there was no milonga, so we had some people over for dinnerand chatting. Tuesday evening we had a fantastic dinner at Pascuale and Roberta's new flat in the center of Bologna (an incredible feat of remodeling and design!). He kept talking about how much he liked Melingo's "Narigon" as if he had just discovered the Hoy Grail. I understood his fanaticism though becasue I'm the same way -- when I like something I need to completely wear it out until I'm tired of it (which in the case of the tango -- it seems to be an everlasting fountain which fuels my fanaticism). He said he liked "Narigon" so much that he made one CD with 74 minutes of "Narigon" to make love to -- he said it's the perfect tempo and mood. So we began to elaborate on this subject asking him if he uses the traspie! Anyway...

Wednesday, June 13th - Drove back to Munich from Bologna with a little scenic detour along the west bank of the Lago di Grada. Even though our little detour added about 4 hours to the trip, the 10 total hours driving seemed less than a straight shot from Bologna to Munich. The Lago di Grada is a huge lake (60kmx15km) that seems like a nice vacation spot for the water sporting types. I pondered possible tango retreat spots, searched for some wooden floors, and decided it would be a great place to have a tango retreat when I'm fluent in Italian.

Thursday - A day devoted to "administrivia" - checking my 46 e-mails, making some phone calls, doing laundry, unpacking from the Italy trip just to turn around and repack for our flight tomorrow to Denmark. Sometimes when people ask me what I do I tell them to teach tango I need to be %50 business person (e-mails, organizing, publicity, doing my own taxes, etc.), %30 psychologist, and %20 is devoted to actual dance instruction. It would be different if I could really have it my way, but I won't complain -- I love what I do. In the evening we managed to sneak in a schnitzel from Steinheil and the movie "Pearl Harbor" (a nice historical survey, but a little too Top-Gunnish for my tastes).

Friday, June 15th - Woke up at 5am, took 20 minutes to get ready, got a ride to the Munich airport and were on our way on Sabena airlines first to Brussels and then to Copenhagen where we would either take the train to Malmo and then Lund, or maybe get picked up at the airport. I was fried on the way over -- the early start mixed with being confused as to what languega I should try to speak and how many Danish Kronor I could exchange for the German Marks I had and trying to figure out all at the same time how much that converted into American dollars... I consider myself decent in math, but sometimes in situations such as these converting currencies can seem more difficult than quantum physics. Anyway, we arrived in Copenhagen and Tove was there to meet us (thanks Tove!) with an armful of red flowers that needed water. It was good to see her again -- she's something of a tango angel in a way (or tango hippie) -- she has this way of making you feel that world peace would be possible if everyone danced the tango. So, we took the train over to Malmo (Sweden) and met Tove friend Federico (from Patagonia) there (it costs around $25 to cross the new bridge from Copenhagen to Malmo!!). The four of us would teach workshops this weekend in Tove's homegrown tango retreat "La Pradera," in Stangby. I had only heard of Federico second hand from a few dancers from Nijmegen, but really didn't know much about him. At first he was a timid, friendly though, but later on in the weekend he would open up more. We checked out the new space "Trengtan" which is an old train station (no longer operating), that Tove somehow managed to find for only $180/month. It has a wooden floor connected to a brick floor which makes dancing difficult to complain about (one can't say it's too hard or too soft or too slippery or too sticky). There is also a small kitchen, a third room and an attic where the devoted tangueros from around the area would stay. A few people arrived early -- it's always nice to enjoy the time with people before a big tango event starts -- you can really get to know them. A few people brought tents (it rained really hard one night and in the morning I was worried about them - no problem for them though). The plan for the weekend was Heidrun and I would give an "opening class" Friday evening, then on Saturday we would split levels and each couple would teach one class to each level with a chacarera class in between. I though it would be nice to start with a class on vals for the "opening class." The first class is always the strangest and most difficult to teach I think. That was the case in Munich, Bologna, and really everywhere. There were around 28 people in the class. I had them start by giving their name (the Swedish names are harder to remember!) and also to give one word that describes the vals to them. Many said "flowing," "moving," "like being on a boat," etc. so for the entire class we worked on trying to make them dance what they heard in the music with a set of exercises. We also gave a nice little spin (something like a "wee" move, but without too much "wee" just to make it a little more accessible). There was one younger dancer that seemed serious about what he was doing, but who had his left arm back and up in the air and tilted his head so far down it looked as if he was trying to sniff his partner's chest. Later on Tove told us that she danced with him once and that it didn't works out so well. He told her, "I think we dance different styles of tango." she replied "oh? And what style do you dance?" He replied "I dance the tango of the silver river." At first she didn't understand him and tried to figure out what the siler river style was. Then she realized that it was a translation of "Rio de la Plata" (="silver river" in English), and so it turns out they were dancing the same Argentine tango, but both in very different ways. It seemed like everyone enjoyed the vals class, and after 15 minutes into the lesson we all warmed up to each other. That evening we all danced in Trengtan. Federico and Tove were Djing, and there were maybe 40 people altogether. The wooden floor and the brick floor are connected on one side by a single doorway which made for an interesting navigational challenge, but fun! My soul hadn't really arrived yet from Munich and though I was in good health (finally) I felt as though I couldn't really get into the floor, and thus didn't really feel like I was anchoring my partner and I while dancing. Later on Federico danced with Tove a bit -- he was using a lot of space, and while I was on the floor and Pugliese was playing I felt a little like I had to show-off because he was doing many creative things. I decided to sit and watch instead. I had the impression from what Tove had explained to me that he was a little conservative, but he's totally the contrary -- he's exploring many "new" movements -- a lot of vertical axis breaking, sudden, quick movements (for which I think Tove has found the perfect dance match!), colgadas, and uses always a bit of oppositional force (like sitting back into each other's arms) while dancing open. He's quite musical and though his legs are quick like rockets, they have a nice heaviness to them -- it really looks like he's down in the floor. So after a while I decided to sleep (breakfast at 10am the next morning). Tove even lended us her apartment to sleep in so that we could get a good night's sleep (thanks again Tove!).

Saturday, June 16th - Woke up around 10am, had a nice hot shower and headed to Torngarden (the other building where La Pradera was held last year, about .5 km from Trengtan) for breakfast. The weather is always a little unpredictable here -- it was beatiful and sunny when we arrived, and now it was cold and raining! At noon we began with the advanced group. We decided to work a little with the close embrace and to get everyone connected with their partner. We started with a bunch of exercises and in the end showed them the "dessert" -- the "leading the lean" class that we gave in Munich and Bologna. They seemed to enjoy it, though some found it a bit difficult. I think it's a nice way of getting the followers to give a little more and to teach the leaders how to manage leading more or less weight from the follower. We took a break for lunch and then Federico and I gave a chacarera class. He has a lot more experience than I do, and I thought he would give the class alone, but when we started he asked me to join him. I served mostly as translator, but added a few things of my own. He had a nice way of teaching it and had an easier zapateo for the men ("sal-chi-cha con pan" is what I usually use, but it's difficult for people just learning to zapateo -- he had a basic three count zapateo with some nice easy variations). The only difference was the ending that he used. He taught a full 4 count giro to end and then the coronacion, while I usually teach a giro final of 2 counts and then 3 steps towards your partner and the coronacion. It created a little confusion on my part and when I realized the difference I told everyone "Well, there's a Patagonia way to do it, and a Portland way to do it..." and so started a joke that would be used thoughout the weekend of the difference between the Portland and Patagonia styles. He said that the chacarera is from Santiago, and that during the zapateo the Santiagenhos, instead of formally holding there hands behind their back during the zapateo casually let them rest at the side. He said there's a joking reason why they are more casual about it -- because they are notorious for the amount they sleep, and there's a joke about telling a Santiagenho to wake up quick because it's almost time for the siesta. At the end of the class all 22 or so couples had the choreography down. Federico made some sheets with the choreography on it so they could remember it, and someone I think managed to swipe my nice chacarera mix CD (I hope they are enjoying it thoroughly!). The next class was for an intermediate group. We had them introduce themselves and then give one word to describe the milonga rhythm. Many said "rhythmic" or "fun, joyful," one said "in the earth," another "a lot of sweating" and one (my favorite) said it reminded him of dancing in clogs -- I said I liked the clog idea, but with clogs made of a heavy wood. We had them dance one milonga taking as small as steps as they could. We realized then that we would need to work hard. We started off with a few exercises to get them connected with themselves, their partner and the music, and then felt that they needed a nice, easy, repeating sequence to keep them in the line of dance and so that they could dance a milonga successfully without stopping or crashing. It would make a nice title for a milonga class "How to dance the milonga without crashing." It turned out to be very useful for many. After a while we worked a little on a simple way to use traspie in the sequence we showed -- "...like trying to kill a cockroach that's running away with your media luna." We had some fun. Dinner was curried sweet potatoes with rice that Janne and crew had been preparing for a day and a half (it's a lot of work to feed 50 people dinner!). The dish had peanuts in it, and one dancer was allergic to nuts. As she entered the hall where to food was being served she immediately felt her allergies coming on just by the smell of the cooked nuts. Tove made an announcement to everyone to wash their hands after they ate so that she could dance with them that evening. A few people added "...and brush your teeth!" and another "...and a shower too!" After dinner I took a short nap (a 20 minute nap works wonders for me) and then headed back to Torngarden for the milonga. There were more people there than the night before, the music was good, the floor a little slippery (though after a while I was dancing barefoot which I enjoy so much anyway -- others became shoe-less as the night wore on) I had some nice dances -- a tubatango set passed which is I guess what my body needed, and a little later a wonderful Pugliese set with Heidrun. Got to bed around 5am.

Sunday, June 17th - At around 1:30pm the four of us (Tove, Federico, Heidrun and I) gave a 2 hour class together. Apparently Tove and Federico had been working on similar things that Heidrun and I had been -- exercises in connecting, connecting, connecting. Today we would give a little "dessert" class, starting by having them dance one tango with an idea from Heidrun and Tove, and then dance another with an idea from Federico and me. We then showed a small sequence, broke it down, and had them execute it part by part excrutiatingly slow. A great way to learn more complicated movements I think is to do it this slowly and without arms -- you can't cheat on your balance by rushing a movement, and you learn how your own movement fits in with your partner's movement. We had an ice cream and coffee break half-way through and by the end of the class everyone had the concepts down. The class worked out better than I had expected (I thought there might be too many teachers, too many ideas, and too much talking, but that was not the case), but at the end Federico wanted to just dance one tango for the crowd, mixing in what we had taught, but also showing some other things. Heidrun and I followed suit, but after 30 seconds Heidrun realized what was going on and walked towards the stereo and turned down the music. I think she felt as though we were showing-off and she told me later that she would have preferred that the students worked more. Federico said he wanted to dance one because he said for him it was like PR, or a way of advertising a little. My scoop on the whole situation was that I don't mind dancing for a crowd and even think it's nice for the visual learners to learn by watching, as was my case when I saw Chicho dancing in Parakultural 3 years ago and still is today, but also agreed with Heidrun that it's good for the students to have time to explore on their own. The situation was a little awkward, but it passed, we all talked, and the air was cleared in the end. After people had left the four of us showed each other a few ideas. Federico showed something which he mentioned as being called a "transito" -- a way of sort of dancing always to the side or a little behind the follower -- easier to see and do than it is to describe, and makes for an interesting concept to explore all of its possibilities. We decided to head to a milonga in Copenhagen. Hitched a ride with Janne over the bridge, arrived, had an excellent meal at the milonga, but all got a little case of physical and mental indigestion because the DJ was playing some really fantastic stuff. My soul had finally arrived, the floor, music and ambiance were great and I had an unstoppable night of dancing -- one of those nights where I asked random people to dance without hesitation and connected with everyone, everything, every time. The only problem was they ended at midnight on the dot. Bummer, I guess all good things have to end. Steve Harding told me once: "Alex, for most normal people enough is enough, not enough is not enough, and too much is too much. In your case with tango dancing however not enough is not enough, enough is not enough, and too much is never enough." As I mentioned earlier, I seem to be one of those types that exhausts things that I enjoy. In the case of tango though it's been winning the game -- after 4 or so years tango for me seems to be an overflowing faucet of yumminess. A danish dancer, Hanne, graciously opened up her apartment to us (thanks Hanne!), we had some nice chatting, a very comfortable futon, and zzzzz... She and some Danish tangueros once in a while go salsa dancing after a milonga. She said in a way it's a nice social equalizer because none of them dance salsa great. I agree, that many times I feel like the level of one's dancing goes to far into the social scene off the dance floor -- that the better dancers have more friends. Why? It's sort of stupid. Or maybe not so. Maybe people become friendly with better dancers so that they can have more dances with them. Why though? If you want to dance with someone all you need to do is ask them to dance, then dance a tanda or two, and then say thank you. What happens off the dance floor should reflect social skills more than dance skills (in an ideal Alex world anyway). In a way I dislike very much the social "hierarchy" that accompanies most milongas and tango scenes. It's a ridiculous concept for me to place someone on a pedestal, or to look down from a great height upon them just because they can execute a sacada or two. Blech! Too much strange socio-political garbage surrounding this dance that sometimes makes me sick. Can't we just dance? Anyway, coming back to the evening of dancing I perhaps found out something interesting. As a leader it seems like when I start to dance with someone if I immediately put up my arms as we stand apart from each other the follower will "choose" to dance open, but that if my arms stay down until our torsos come close, then there is a higher probablility that we'll choose to dance in a more close embrace. Maybe something worth exploring. I'll try my grand theory out in Munich Tuesday night at Max E.

Monday - Another shitty wasted day of traveling from Copenhagen back to Munich, though not completely wasted... on the plane sometimes my mind seems to be a river of ideas. In these moments I grab whatever pen and papar (or napkin as sometimes the case may be) and start writing furiously. The piece of 8x11 next to me here, now, has easily over 50 ideas for violin/piano duets, string quartet ideas, tango teaching and dancing ideas, even ideas of making my own "tango slipper," and strange random ideas like the design for a candle chandelier/heat windmill made out of coat hangers and tin foil. Ay yay yay...now may my body grant me the power to realize all these ideas...

Tuesday, June 18th - Woke up and did the things that needed to be done. It seems like on weekends such as the past one I neglect some basic daily habits -- shaving, cutting nails, laundry, cutting hair, polishing shoes, sewing holes together or missing buttons back on, etc. We were also completely grocery-less except for some Danish cheese, bread and cheap caviar that we bought in the airport in Copenhagen. I made a run to the HL Markt here in Karlsfeld and am now engaged once again in administrivia. Got some new invitations to teach in Los Angeles this fall and Copenhagen next Easter! I've also been thinking recently about the audience of this journal. There are sometimes when I would like to express things here and thus make it more of a diary or sorts, but I fear that the audience of this journal has grown (it seems like everywhere I go some people have read my journals -- from BsAs, to Italy, Germany, Sweden, Holland and England) and so I feel a bit compelled to not expose certain things in the public domain. I'll try to keep "just the facts" and let the reader make his or her own judgements about things, though some things I have omitted. So, in the evening we went to Max E., but on the way made a little sidetrip to Steinheil for a "you-know-what." We arrived around 9:30pm -- there were hardly any people there. I had a great set with one of Heidrun's friends, and after a while the place filled up. I was in my "unstoppable" mode again, which is strange because it always seemed like after traveling I could never dance well for a day or two. Anyway, I asked some people I had never danced with before and others that were friends -- all the dances went well. I also tested out my little theory. The preliminary results of "Alex's Grand Arm-to-Distance Hypothesis" turned out a success -- that when I waited to put my arms up fully for the embrace the followers seemed to dance close embrace. With one follower I put up my arms earlier than usual and she danced further apart, even though the rest of the night I saw that she was also dancing closer with others. Hmm...

Wednesday, June 19th - Checking e-mails and organizing in multiple places from afar again, also managed to get in a few hours of composing -- nice to realize the ideas that I had on the plane back to Munich from Copenhagen. In the evening I had a private that went extremely well -- I had a great connection with them and they made significant changes to allow them to be more connected and for her to become more active in her movements.

Thursday, Friday - Just finished my third string quartet -- next Wednesday I'll get to hear it here in Munich! Just as I'm discovering my "style" in dancing and teaching tango, I also feel that I've come to discover my own compositional style as well -- a very nice feeling, though there's more studying to be done... Friday evening we drove to Augsburg. We would stay there the weekend to do a few demos and give weekend workshops. So, Friday evening we were going to dance in a "scooterbahn" somewhere -- I was a little in the dark as to where this place would be. So we arrived and I found out that we were going to demo in the "XLarge" expo/fair. We found the "scooterbahn" (a bumper car ring without the bumper cars), there was techno music playing, it was around 6pm or so, and there were a lot of younger kids between maybe 10 and 17 years old dancing a little. Then a dance troupe of young girls did a cheerleaderish number, and then the tango started. They put on a few "tangos" for the local tangueros to improvise to. The music they chose was classic -- things like the techno version of "La Cumparsita" and other pop versions of familiar tangos -- perfect, I think, given the crowd we were dancing for. Then one of the organizers, Miljana, gave a little milonga lesson. Such a difficult undertaking! I really have a lot of respect for teachers that work with children -- more than anything you have to first make them want to learn before you can teach them, and also have to deal with how to discipline a group. These are things that fortunately I don't have to deal with so much. I always try to get a class enthusiastic, above anything else, about learning and dancing tango, but everyone in my classes is already addicted to some degree to tango or they wouldn't be there in the first place. I get to just teach. Once again a bug BRAVO! to all those that teach our children. Anyway, the milonga class in the scooterbahn seemed difficult to manage, but nonetheless Miljana did a wonderful job. Then they announced us and Heidrun and I danced to the Forever version of Felicia and Melingo's "Narigon," thinking that these would be fitting for the crowd (and the heavy-duty sound system that the ring packed!). Slippery metal floor, but it went well. Afterwards we walked around the festival a little and the headed over to where "Quinteto Tocar" was playing (an Augsburg based tango quintet - accordion, guitar, bass, clarinet, and violin). They played nicely -- I enjoyed it, although it seems that musicians more often than not prefer to play the things that are difficult for the dancers. Every tango band has a full repetoire of Piazzolla and Gardel -- the easiest sheet music and arrangements to get a hold of. It'd be nice to dance to a group that plays really for the dancers. It was fun though -- we all danced in front of the stage and many people passed and stopped to watch a little, and there was a huge inflatable beer bottle on top of the stage! It made it also a little surreal when a smahed-drunk man came "dancing" into the line of dance. He was a large man with red cheeks and nose, wearing a tank top and shorts. Heidrun and I first thought that he was so drunk that he had pee'd his pants because there was a big wet spot in his crotch -- it was really a pathetic sight, and reminded me of Melingo's tango "Muleta de borracho," about a drunk, crippled man wandering and stumbling along the street -- one doesn't know whether to feel pity, shame, embarassmen, or what for people like these. Later on we went to a booth on the other side of the fair to eat a Leberkaese-semmel and a curry wurst and sitting next to us were a group of late teenagers hanging out and chatting. After a while we overheard them talking about the tango -- one young man and woman got up and pretended to dance their version of the tango -- one that I assure you the Pope would not approve of. So, you never know where you'll end up dancing tango. Today's little surreal tango adventure won't be forgotten!

Saturday, June 22nd - We stayed the previous night in the organizers' apartment -- a beautiful place with an exit through the ceiling window that opened up to a balcony overlooking the town. We even had a real bed to sleep on and the schinken at breakfast was to die for (thanks again Sonja and Gerhardt!). At 10:30am we drove out to the dance studio where the workshops would be held. I have a theory, the dance studio was in the basment of a building, it seems that tango dancers in Europe always live on the top-most floor of apartment complexes (making it difficult after a long night of dancing to climb 5-8 flights of stairs) and most dance studios seem to be in basements. Hmm... At 11am the first class started -- a close-embrace class for intermediates. There were 10 couples and the group was more or less homogeneous. We played some games, did mostly body-work, and by the end of the class we were all smiling. As I've mentioned before, it always gives me great pleasure to see couples connecting and smiling in tango classes. We gave back massages at the end. At 2pm the intermediate milonga class started. We had them introduce themselves and then give one word that describes the milponga for them. Similar responses as in Sweden - half the group described it as fun and rythmic, and the other half described it as unclear, difficult, and confusing. Again we tried to keep it fun and make the milonga easier for those that dreaded it. Seemed like they enjoyed it. That evening we drove 20 minutes south to the suburb of Koenigsbrunn where they held a special milonga because of the weekend workshops. It was a nice little discotec with a bar, tables and a very nice floor. We arrived around 9:30pm -- there were only about 8 people, and all sitting in couples away from the other couples. It was a little strange. I asked Heidrun to dance, hoping that we could pull some of the others onto the floor, but we were unsuccessful. Around 10:30pm some slower music was put on and a large flow of people came in all at once. Amidst the commotion people started dancing and shortly after hardly anyone was left sitting. Later we were asked if we wanted to do a demo. Sure. I picked out my favorite Biagi and we started off. The beginning went well, but then somewhere around the middle of the song Heidrun and I had a little miscommunication -- I was going for a sacada and she translated it as a gancho for her. There was an obvious bobble, but at least we remained standing! The rest of the song went well, though I felt really bad. We got danced an encore to Canaro's "El lloron," which went smoothly. After the demo we sat at the bar for a little. I felt really bad. Heidrun and I have never had something go wrong like this before. I didn't know if I felt bad about myself, about her, about the people, or what. I was a little confused and had a knot in my stomach for half an hour. Heidrun and others kept saying it was nothing, that it made the demo more human in a way, but no words or logic could persuade how I was feeling. Then my confusion turned into a mission: I have to practice more -- I'm teaching too much and dancing too much close-embrace and shouldn't get caulky and think that I can just go out and lead anything without practicing. I had some nice dances later that evening as my mind and body calmed down a little. Later that evening MIljana was DJing and pulled a wonderful stunt. She started by playing "Milonga de mis amores" by a tango saxaphone quartet, and then in the middle of the song faded into the original version without a hitch! Something I'll have to try when I get home to Portland... Zzz...

Sunday, June 23rd - The advanced giros/sacadas class started at noon. There were only 6 couples (another couple had taught 5 days of advanced workshops recently), and the level was somewhat homogeneous. We worked for an hour and fifteen minutes with technique exercises for sacadas and giros that reaped their fruit when we put it all into a little sequence during the last 15 minutes of the class. Another massage and 20 minutes later we started the advanced milonga class. We worked on 3 ideas: ochos, traspie, and the "drunken sailor" step (though we teach the more sober, upright version). It went well, and we were asked to come back this December. They had rented to studio for the entire weekend (only $90 for the full 2 days!), so Heidrun and I used the opportunity to practice a little after I gave Miljana a half-hour lesson on dynamics and musicality. It's a nice time to work with Heidrun -- she's warmed up already from teaching. We also believe we've found a format for practicing that seems to avoid conflict -- we make it so that one of us gives a "private lesson" to the other. It's nice because then the one "teaching" learns more about teaching, and the "student" learns as well and it doesn't become an arguing match -- I want to work on this, no I want to work on this, you're dancing too fast, you're dancing too slow, etc. blech! We drove back to Munich around 6pm after a nice 2 hour practice session, and stopped by a lake for a swim on the way. After the lake we hit Steinheil for my Sschnitzel remedy and then I managed to convince Heidrun to stop by the milonga "Aficionado" in the cigar bar. We arrived at the milonga around 9pm ad the place was empty. I danced some with Heidrun and chatted a little with others. Around 10pm the crowd came in. I danced some nice sets with some other people. Later I danced with Heidrun again, and by now the floor was quite crowded and a little chaotic. There was a man dancing in front of us. Someone bumoed me from behind, and I tried my hardest not to bump this man in front of me, but I think Heidrun bumped him a little. He shook his head and left the floor! After the tango had ended we went to his table and apologized. He was furiously smoking a big cigar, and said that it wasn't us that pissed him off, but that two other people had hit him hard on the floor before us and his feet were in pain from two sets of high heels landing on his arch in the same place. The way he acted reminded me a little of how Piroto used to act when he was hit on the floor. They both seemed angry, but one couldn't help but reflect and chuckle a little on the situation (you had to have been there). Headed home and slept like a rock.

Monday, June 24th - Made some revisions on the third string quartet, did some adminis-trivia... This week was devoted to composing. I seemed to have a river of ideas which each cascaded into more ideas. I worked mostly on a few Lied for Heidrun, some duets for viola and violin (which we played together -- I purposefully composed the viola part easier so that I could play it). Tuesday evening Heidrun played with her quartet and they sight-read my third string quartet (it needs some work, and a much better ending than what's there now). On Saturday Heidrun took me to a western horse-riding turnier just outside of Munich. I'm quite indifferent when it comes to horses -- we arrived and there was American country music playing and a people running around in cowboy hats and big silver buckles. Sometimes I get the sense that Europeans that have not seen America think that it is something other than what it really is. There seems to be a fascination with the idea of cowboys and indians (there are some Germans which live in tee-pees and try to live life like nativ American indians do). This sort of vlossoms into another topic which I wrote a little about when I was in BsAs last December. As an American you can really feel the discrimination against America and AMericans in general. The ones who make comments are not directing them at me, but at the stereotype that they have in there mind. Like when in Munich a woman said it was strange that I was AMerican because it didn't sound like I was talking with a hot potato in my mouth! There are other things as well. A few times cheap and big things have been referred to as American. It fosters in me a little shame of where I'm from. This leads into another topic that I've been dealing with since high school -- that of nationality in a variety of disciplines -- an American dancing the tango of Argentina in Europe (?!) for example. Also in composing I've faced this question many times. To what nationality do we associate jazz with -- African? European? What is an American rather than just displaced foreigners -- a mixed salad of cultures that becomes a new culture by mixing. When I use a traditional Tuvan melody in my compositions does it make it more "Tuvan?" What if I used Tuvan instruments, Tuvan melodies, Tuvan rhythm, and even had the piece performed in Tuva -- would it be Tuvan? Tuvan/American?? Where does the line of nationality begin and end -- don't we all just belong to the same species -- with the same basic needs of survival that every other human being has to deal with? Ok, I've gone off on a tangent... Sometimes I get defensive when America is criticized, though it makes no sense. I should realize that the criticism stems from the criticizor's own feelings of perhaps xenophobia, racism, jealousy, whatever. To me the idea of nationality is a bit ridiculous -- it has started more wars and has fostered more hatred than the good that it has done. That's not to say I'd like all the world to have the same language, customs, etc., but there must be some way that individuals can begin to realize that every culture does something for a reason, and to speak of how good, noble, bad, or stupid a culture is is totally absurd and relevant only to the psychologist of the person speaking. Anyways, back to the turnier -- it reminded me a little of a homework assignment that we had in cultural anthropology in high school. The assignment was to go to an event that you would normally never go to, and then write about the experience. When we stepped out of the car I felt a little out of place in my tango garb, though the people were friendly and the food was good. Sunday we visited Heidrun's brother, nieces, and nephews -- a lot of fun. We showed them the viseo of the demo that we danced in Modigliana and it was interesting to hear the responses -- especially from the children (aged 3-10). Nina always let out a hearty chuckle when Heidrun made a boleo, and Axel said that it was too slow (which was even more funny because in this demo Heidrun whisper to me "dance slow, dance slow"). At the end we asked the kids if they wanted to learn how to tango, because Heidrun's brother wants to learn. All the kids yelled out "No way!" but also seemed a little shy about it as well. In the afternoon we played some of viola/violin duets together and I video recorded it into my computer so that I have a nice little something to watch and listen to when I miss Heidrun. In the evening we went to Sonja milonga, "Aficionado." There was a good-sized crowd and I had an ok time dancing, though nothing special. Halfway through the night Heidrun ordered a rum and coke, I said I would pay, and the bartender said it was 17DM! (~$8, or maybe $7, the Deutsche Mark is getting worse) Shocking...

Monday, July 2nd - Got up around 6:30am to catch the 8:33am ICE train to Nijmegen via Cologne. First I had to catch the local train to the Munich Hauptbahnhof. This would give me 20 minutes exactly to catch the train to Nijmegen. As luck would have it (mixed in with a little of Murphy's law, I suppose) someone on the local train pulled the emergency brake and the train came to a screeching halt. I though to myself, ok no problem, 15 minutes or so is still enough time (the next train to Nijmegen would be the slow train leaving 3 hours later). The time passed and passed and I started to get a little anxious. These moments, when there is nothing I can do to make something work better, give me the worst feeling. Each minute seemed so precious. Then after 17 minutes the train started up again. I thought, ok I'll have 3 minutes (exactly) to buy a sparpreis (special price) ticket and then hop on the caboose as it's pulling out of the station. Kein chance -- the lines were incredibly long. I bought a ticket just to Augsburg from one of the machines, and then jumped on the 2nd class car 30 seconds before it was under way. This little event would cost me an extra $60 because when you pay the most when you buy the train ticket on the train.I was a bit irritated with the local train, and told the train stewardess about my situation -- she was a bit cold, and understandably not understanding of my situation. The first three hours of the train ride were spent breathing deeply, keeping calm and working to get the know out of my stomach. I finally cooled off a bit when I convinced myself that it was only money and nothing else. I managed to get some sleep, though had to change trains in Mannheim, Cologne and Arnhem, so I only got a few short, sporadic zzz's. When I arrived at El Corte in Nijmegen there were only a handful of people -- most of whom I knew from previous El Corte visits. There are always new pieces of art in different corners of the building every time I visit, so I decided to have a look around. I helped Komala organize the class lists as I had done the previous year and then headed out to my favorite Turkish deli to have the usual Doener Duerum. When I came back the opening ceremonies were about to begin. We packed into the big hall and Eric introduced the visitors and participants by country. Most were Dutch and German, but there were also quite a few Swedes, four Russian women, a guy from Hong Kong and a gal from Malta -- I think around 90 people total that would spend the next week together. The first class was on decorations. Eric and Komala used the basic sequence starting with a side step to work with. It was interesting too because they worked a lot around the basic -- they seemed to use it as a tool to get to other things they wanted to teach rather than spending time teaching people new sequences. At 11:30pm the class ended and the salon started. There was a mad rush to dance with the people you wanted to because there was only 2.5 hours of dancing (which is normally just enough for me to warm-up with!) -- but I remember from the previous year that there was not excessive social dancing during the week because Eric wanted to keep us relatively fit to get up each morning at 9am for breakfast and classes. I came back more to see old friends and meet new people -- and bond with them for a week (how often in life to we get opportunities to do this? Not enough!). I had some nice dances, but really didn't feel like I was totally in my body yet from the day's train journey. At 1am the music stopped, people chatted for a while, and then found there little spot to sleep. I managed to get a matress in the loft, which was even more fortunate for me because I had no sleeping pad -- it would have taken me a few days to get used to sleeping on the wooden floor. I slept like a rock as I always do after dancing.

Tuesday, July 3rd - Woken up by Komala ringing a bell loudly at 9am, yelling out "Breakfast is ready!" and putting on her "morning music." I stayed in bed and reflected a little, leisurely taking my time to really wake up. By 9:45 I was downstairs giving morning hugs and kisses to people before eating. El Corte seems to have its usual breakfast "menu" consisting of bananas, apples, bread (not german, but better than the American), lots of Gouda (young and old and in between), muesli, yogurt, milk, something called "Hagel puur" - a kind of chocolate sprinkle which they probably make in El Corte because I've never seen it anywhere else, and some deli salads (cheese, tuna, celery). They are quite consistent with these things. The first class started at 10am and the second one followed at 11:30. I was a visitor so I could not take part in the classes, but I could watch them for free. I watched a little and in the chatting room practiced some of the material they were teaching. By noon it was already quite warm and I found that even after practicing a little my shirt was completely soaked. At 1pm it was time for lunch. A wonderful woman from the UK named Caroline offered to cook lunch the entire week for all 90 people (you're amazing Caroline!) She had cooked once in a while last year during IW, so her reputation for whipping up exquisite meals was well known. So when the class finished at 1pm there was a mad rush to que up for her gourmet goodies. Mmmm, super-lekker stuff. After lunch a Parisian and I took the El Corte tandem bike out to a nearby lake to cool down from the heat. My allergies were quite bad -- again a new country with its new pollens -- beautiful blooming flowers that I could only imagine because my eyes were so swollen that I could barely keep them open. The swim was nice and I thought I'd lay down in the sun for a while at the lake figuring that the rest of the week I would be inside El COrte most of the time and my skin wouldn't get much sunlight. After the swim Frederique, Zoran and I had a pastry and drink at a nearby cafe and chatted. We rode home and were exhausted. One more reason that I don't really enjoy sun-bathing -- I always feel like the sun sucks the energy out of me. I had another doener duerum at the Turkish place and then watched the next two classes which started at 7pm. At 10pm the music and open dancing started. There were a bunch of extra people that came just for the salon and who were not part of IW. It was interesting as well because Eric and Komala teach a good line of dance so much that it really effects the salons in El Corte -- some of the people that were not part of the IW were messing up the flow a little. But also there were some nice people and dancers from Amsterdam and Arnhem which added to the excitement of the evening. Extra followers as usual -- 7 women signed up to lead during the workshops in IW, but then maybe only 2 of them led in the evening during the salons which made for a least 10 extra followers every night. Regardless though I think that everyone had an enjoyable time. I had good dances, but again still felt like I wasn't totally in my body -- my soul was still on its way from Munich!

Wednesday, July 4th - Last year I taught a few impromptu chacarera classes and this year a bunch of people asked if I was going to teach it again. I asked Eric and it was ok with him. After being the last one out of bed again and almost missing breakfast completely, I stumbled downstairs, grabbed a bite to eat, had a shower in the famous El Corte "TV shower," and watched the classes. Both Eric and Komala are gifted as teachers, though they approach teaching from different angles. Komala uses a lot of touch, and Eric is more the entertainer. They make a wonderful combination as well. At 1pm we had another spectacular lunch from Caroline, and then despite the heat and full stomachs, 50 people or so joined in the chacarera class. I stuck to my usual routine, but added some nice things that I had learned from Federico in Sweden. After the class Zoran and I practiced a little -- by now my shirt was in a state beyond wet. In the evening there were another set of classes, but I was itching so much to danced that I went to Arnhem around 9pm to go dancing. This was the hottest night (temperature-wise) of the week. In the beginning I wasn't really in my body still. I danced with some very gifted followers, and tried changing shoes, but I still couldn't get past some strange tango barrier that was blocking me from dancing. Then I danced with one follower from Arnhem who I sometimes describe as "dancing with a lit stick of dynamite," or that the sensation dancing with her is like trying to tame a lion. She has an explosive energy that I imagine would be too much for many leaders, but for me was perfect. I asked her to dance when a nice Pugliese set came on and I felt like I was dancing the lyrics "sacarle la viruta al piso hasta que romper los zapatos" -- well my shoes already had holes in them, but it was a volatile dance (in a very good way!) During the first song I felt like I was finally back in my body after 2 days. I had to stop dancing with her after an hour or so (I would have danced longer) because I felt like I was going to pass-out from dehydration and heat exhaustions. As I stepped outside there was literally steam pouring off my short and pants and even my shoes were wet from all the sweating! The rest of the night was fantastic -- I always have nice dances in Arnhem though. They played music until 3am and I drove back to El Corte with a psychologist from Brussels -- completely wet and wasted, but in a very good way. El Corte was quiet and dark. I took a quick shower and managed to climb up the ladder to the loft and fall into an unoccupied matress without landing on any of my neighbors. ***Zzzz***

Thursday, July 5th - The fact that I even woke up at all after a night of dancing like the previous one was a miracle. I even got some breakfast and tea. The classes started. I talked with Frederick a little to see if he had any ideas for a present for Komala and Eric this year (last year he ingeniously organized to buy the tandem bike). He replied with a tone that said "why does everyone think I'm in charge of it!" He wanted to help, but he didn't want to be the main organizer. We bounced around a few ideas and then settled on collecting 5 guidlers from everyone and using it to buy roses which we could pass out during the milonga on Saturday night. He asked me if I wanted to be the bank -- to collect the money from everyone. I obliged, though these jobs I don't really enjoy doing. We had to collect the money, get the flowers, pass them out to everyone -- all this while still trying to keep it a secret from Eric and Komala. After half an hour I had already collected around 150 guilders, and by the end I would have around 300 total. I was missing Heidrun (who would be joining me on Friday), and Komala could see this so she came over while I was resting on a couch and scratched my head for a bit. Corien was put in charge of actually getting the flowers, and I thought it would be a nice idea to write a little poem to precede the giving of the flowers. In the afternoon I got a massage from the German tango dancing massage therapist, Sabine. It was only 80 guilders (~$30US) for 50 minutes and was very nice -- just what my body needed after dancing and sneezing so much. It was very different though than the one I had in Munich. Sabine was quite gentle, and didn't do any deep tissue work. It was a new experience for me and I felt very nice afterwards. Masseurs always seem to have similar hands -- they always feel very big and warm and are a bit rough from the callous that they've obtained by making so many people happy. Two more classes in the evening (the teaching stamina of Eric and Komala is something else to admire), and another salon that ended at 1am. Eric wanted to end every salon with the same song -- a beautiful Cape Verdian tune that you could dance a milonga to. Every day by coincidence (or perhaps not!) I ended the evening with this song dancing with the same person -- a really special dancer who doesn't talk so much, but who is so expressive, communicative, and musical when she dances that often I forget I'm leading or following when I dance with her. That night Edo was the DJ. Edo is the handyman of El Corte and just recently has delved into the DJing circle. It was interesting and controversial -- many people either really loved his music, or didn't really care for his format. I danced the whole time and enjoyed just the freshness of his approach, but on the other hand it didn't really feel like I was dancing in an Argentine tango salon because not many tangos were played. There were times when everyone was dancing up a storm -- sometimes even clapping after he played certain songs and also times in the night where I noticed that I was only part of four or five couples on the floor when something a bit rhythmically obscure was being played.

Friday, July 6th - The usual format today, but I got a chance to see Stefan's apartment and Komala's house. Stefan's place is spacious next to European standards, with a dance floor (someone asked if we could dance there during Int'l week and he said "No way!" -- I can understand where he's coming from though). A really beautiful in a minimalistic sort of way -- with a patio that overlooks trees that rustle with the passing Dutch wind. Komala's house is quiant, small, and at the moment I saw it looked like a hurricane came through it (Komala warned me it would be a mess!) -- though that's the perpetual state of my room always from so much travelling and she had just returned from a teaching gig in South Africa a few days earlier. A small group of us intruded in the backyard on a French, nude, sunbathing visitor, but there was no problem. Then I went out, bought some allergy medicine, salty licorice, returned and watched some of the Wimbledon semi-finals on TV. Someone rang Komala's doorbell. She answered it in her underwear. It was a man wondering if he could fix her water heater sometime in the evening. She said she works at night and then added that she's not a call-girl! I can only imagine the look on his face... Komala and Natalie (Paris) offered to fix dinner for me, but I wanted to get back to El Corte so I wouldn't miss Heidrun's arrival. I walked back and sat outside for a while working on the poem. Then she arrived and I felt lit up again. A mighty hug, unpacking, and then to a nearby restaurant for dinner. The dancing started around 10pm and went 'til 1am.

Saturday, July 7th - Woke up so late that I missed breakfast completely. Henry said there was no more, but then later on I think he felt sorry for me and brought me some fruit. There were a few classes (wonderful ones, as usual) and then I had a nice, new experience. There was a participant there, Unni, from Norway that works with acupuncture and homeopathy. All week she had been asking me if I was interested in getting acupunture (she had her needles with her) for my allergies and funky breathing problems. I had been a little hestitant, to be honest, for fear of having too many needles stuck in me, but then Saturday afternoon, after I taught another chacarera class (a little more crashy crash course that lost a little some that had never done it before -- my apologies!), I decided to try out my first acupuncture session. She asked me many questions first, took my pulse, watched me breath, and before starting asked me to once in a while breath out fully before breathing in. It was the perfect timing for me for this advice. Everytime that I concentrated on breathing, while stretching, during Qi Gong, on the train, etc. I've only really concentrated on breathing fully in, but it makes sense that you first need to breathe out all the used air in order to take in new air. Another totally obvious thing that I have never been concious of before. Then I got two needles near the ankle and three in the right arm to stimulate the lung meridian. The needles were so thin that I couldn't even feel them go in. I rested there with the needles, concentrating on my new breathing technique for about 15 minutes. During this time I got little dizzy spells when I closed my eyes, it became a little sore near the right ankle, but the biggest sensation was a feeling of the blood flowing vigorously up and down the right arm -- the right arm also got very warm and relaxed. She took out the needles, asked how it went, told me to drink a liter of water and then have a rest. I thanked her for everything -- I felt the session gave me a lot that I could work with. I drank several liters of water (not hard to do considering the sweltering heat), and then had a foot massage from the resident foot woman, Saskia. Heidrun wanted to watch her as she did the massage. Saskia has this special gift of being able to see right through you through your feet -- sort of like a foot psychic. Heidrun said that while she had a massage with her tears started running down Saskia's face, and Heidrun told me she felt as if Saskia was crying because Heidrun wanted to, but couldn't. After the acupuncture and foot massage I really felt like a completely new person. Afterwards I went to the bank to get some more cash (I always end up spending more than I plan for), then found a card for Komala, a gift certificate for a restaurant for Caroline (so she wouldn't have to cook one day in El Corte), and then sat in a cafe by the river to complete the poem that I would deliver that evening. A group of Italian street musicians passed by the cafe and played some tunes. I tried convincing them to stop by El Corte at midnight and play one tango, but they said they were already booked for the night. Around 7pm I headed back to the farm, ate a pizza for dinner, took a TV shower, changed, and was ready to dance. Dancing strated at 10pm and would go until morning. Ex- It'l week participants were there, and the Djing was split betwwen Otto and Eric. As midnight approached I got a little anxious -- hoping that the poem/flower plan would work. At 1am we had to change rooms for dancing (Eric has a neighbor with problems), and I scurried around to tell everyone to get there roses outside. In the commotion of the big move I don't think Komala and Eric had any idea of their surprise gift. I read the poem out loud, got the crowd to join in with some parts and the poem ended with "...choreography poses,/ And what better way to thank them than with 200 roses." At that moment everyone took their roses from behind their backs, lifted them in the air, and circled around Eric and Komala. It was a beautiful sight, and I felt really good that I had helped out with it. Then a woman from Brussels sadi they couldn't forget their chacarera teacher and presented me with an enormous bottle of champagne (which later was in the freezer for just a few hours too long and exploded -- I felt bad...). The music started up again with 3 chacareras. It was another beautiful sight to see maybe 80 people dancing the chacarera successfully after just one or two lessons (a gifted bunch for sure!). Tangos continued until 6am or so and ended with that wonderful Cape Verdian milonga (which I danced to with the same person again). It was a fantastic night of enough dancing (though, as Steve Harding once told me, that for me enough is never enough). Slept like a rock to wake up to...

Sunday, July 8th - Komala rang the bell around 11am, but I think not as many people were so eager to rise from their long, deep sleep. I stayed in bed until I heard someone singing in the chatting hall. It was the first surprise that Eric had organized for the surprise day. A singer by the name of Pinole from Buenos Aires, with a really nice voice and emotion as well. I crept out of my sleeping bag to the edge of the loft that overlooked where he was singing. He spotted me and gave me a wink and a thumbs up. After the first tune, "Dos extranhos," he looked at me and said "Vamos a bailar -- dormir no, bailar!" So I took him up on his offer, wrapped a towel around my waist, came downstairs and danced barefoot in a towel with Heidrun to his singing. The accompaniment he used was interesting as well. It didn't sound like a terribly gifted set of musicians (on CD), and much of the time there was a synthesizer being used, but perhaps, I thought, he did it on purpose so that his voice would carry over better and that the crowd would listen more to his singing rather than the can. In the afternoon I did my laundry in one of the foot-baths, and then hung it out to dry on a rack up in the loft. At 6pm was the second surprise. We had to walk down to the casino at the riverside and wait for further instructions. I was really baffled. Last year I figured out the surprise ahead of time, but this year I had absolutely no clue. The first part of the 6pm surprise was a gourmet dinner on the river -- lekker-stuff. Everyone told Caroline to cue up first. For the second part we went to the casino, were given some money to gamble with, a deck of playing cards with "El Corte" on the back, and a drink ticket. There was a ghetto-blaster in the corner with tangos playing, and some were dancing. Others went to the "Spielerklaerung" to learn the rules of roulette, and others set off the win (or lose) their money. I'm not much of a gambler, so I put all my chips on one number and lost it all in less than a minute. Others gave their chips to those who knew what they were doing, and some of the ones that knew what they were doing won (I think Frederick won 500 guilders!). Afterwards we went to the second floor of the Cafe de Zaak for some dancing -- a small place, but with a really nice feel. Afterwards we headed back to El Corte, danced some more, and then ended with an unoffical goodbye from Eric and a loud applause in response. A lot of work to organize something like Int'l week and Eric and Komala pulled it off seamlessy -- I had a great time and will be back next year. Thanks!!!

Monday, July 9th - The sad day of saying goodbyes. "When will I see you again?" and "Next year..." "this December" it seems like an sad eternity, but I knwo the time will pass quickly. Heidrun left around 4pm, I had a wonderful talk with her and then the .5 of track waving goodbye to her made me cry. I headed back to El Corte -- everyone seemed to feel my sadness and comfoted me in this moment like members of my family. Then Eric had an acupuncture session with Unni. Meanwhile I collectedc my things. I went upstairs to look for more of my things and accidentally brushed the sleeping bag that Eric was lying under with needles in him. He made such a noise that I thought I had for sure killed him. I was so frightened in this one moment that I dropped a shoe that I was holding and it landed at the edge of the sleeping bag and again tweaked the needle that was in Eric's ankle. Unni ran upstairs and everything was ok -- she even tried to convince him that the momentary shock was good for him. I was trembling for the next 20 minutes, sure that I had crossed the wires of some meridian with another. After a while we laughed it off, but at the moment, brrr, it was a little nightmare. Around 5:30pm we drove to Amsterdam, ate some overpriced pasta at a local Italian place and then went to the Cafe Kroon to dance. The Cafe Kroon is situated in downtown Amsterdam in Rembrandts Plein. It's an upscale (and upstairs) dining place with a dance floor and large bar. Its one of the places where I always have nice dances. I saw some friends that I hadn't seen in 5 months, and even Claudia, from BsAs, who is now living in Amsterdam. The DJ was not the usual guy, Andreas, whose music I've always loved, but some other character. In the beginning he was dancing and seemed not to be paying too much attention to the music, but it was only in the beginning - perhaps to get people dancing. He turned out to be a DJ that I like very much as well. Also he stuck to a quite traditional format of tandas and cortinas. More and more I'm thinking of going back to this traditional format in my own milonga -- or somehow find a way to elaborate on the same structure. The milonga ended far to early for me as usual, but I had a very nice time. I got a ride to a friend's house and said some more goodbyes to the other tanguero passengers. Went inside the house and forgot again that the Europeans start counting floors from zero, so I ended up opening the door of some strangers house before not recognizing the place and realizing my mistake! *Zzz*

Tuesday, July 10th - Woke up at 8am, went to Amsterdam's famous "Easy Everything" - an internet place with 600 computers, to check my e-mail and figure out how to get to where I was going, then to Centraal station to catch a train to Schiphol airport. Everything went smoothly, the flight was on time, and by 12:30pm I was landing in Liverpool. The weather was typically English from what I'm used to -- a bitter cold wind that goes down to the bone, everything was a little gray, and my grumpiness let me know that food is what I needed most at that moment. I was thoroughly questioned by thoroughly confused customs agent who seemed more preoccupied with asking the questions than receiving the answers. I had to show the silliest of documents and belongings and after five minutes was on my way. No damaged bag (I ususally try not to check any luggage after previous bad experiences with airport luggage services). Caught the 500 bus to the Liverpool train station, bought a youth railcard and a 9 quid single to Leeds and was on the road again (some time to catch up with this journal). At the train station I met up with Sven, a really nice easy-going kind of guy. He headed to a cafe where they normally have their Tuesday evening practica. Him and his wife had a private lessons that worked out well (we worked a little on the energy of movement and musicality and then on jumps -- they wanted it in the wedding choreography -- so it was a little like dessert for me!). Then around 7pm the crowd arrived -- about 20 people total, mostly older, and extremely friendly and open. Five minutes into the first class I felt like we already had a good connection, laughing and learning together. They had a very nice sense of the line of dance and looked like they were having a good time (way to go Sven and Jutta!). The first class we worked on a lot of fundamental stuff -- connecting mostly, and the second class we worked on milonga. While I was teaching I got new ideas, new visualizations to use. I've found that I learn the most about teaching and get the best ideas not when I sit down and think about teaching, but when I'm actually doing it. I think in teaching, like dancing, you should start with an idea and then be very open to improvising and changing a little as you go along to suit the needs of the students. Perhaps you spend 1 hour on just changing weight in place, or perhaps you can move very quickly through material -- I always have to be watching and adjusting, really staying always on my toes and carrying the students along at a nice pace. So the two classes ended, I chatted with some of them and danced as well. By 11:30pm most were gone and we packed up our things and left. I went with Micheal to stay at his place in the countryside near Wakefield, just outside of Leeds. A very tranquil place and I woke up to...

Wednesday, July 11th - ...a large field with cows merrily grazing away - once in a while looking in my direction as if they were old local men sitting on the patio of a convenience store in a small town -- "..yer not from around here are ya?" Micheal had already left for work at 8am (working until 11pm or so - how can medical doctors work so many hours? Micheal said there is a bit of adrenaline pumping when you're in the operating theater, but I told him I'd be a bit worried to be operated on by a doctor who had already been working for 14 hours!). I had a few hours so I composed until 1pm and then hiked down the hill to the bus stop. I waited for about 1/2 an hour before I started to worry a little if the bus would come at all down this little village road. I walked a little further hoping that maybe I could walk to the train station myself. But the bus came and I was glad I hadn't put my mind to walking the entire distance - it would have taken at least 3 hours! Caught the first train to London King's Cross Station, arrived there by 4:30pm, caught the black line to High Barnet tube and got off at Tufnell park station -- close to where I would be teaching that evening. I decided to get some pub food (though I managed to find perhaps the stinkiest pub in London, thick as pea soup with cigarette smoke, blech!). I ate some and did some people watching. Micheal had mentioned that there still exists very much a class sytem in England. I had heard this before, but just at the moment sort of realized it -- I was definitely in a working class pub because it felt very human -- no pretention, no competition, functional clothing, and a look on each patrons face that said "I've worked hard all day and deserve this pint of lager." It was a nice experience and made me remind myself never to grow a big head, or to classify people, or create a hierarchy. It's often that I see people places order and rank on people and I think it's disgusting and inhumane. It reminds me of the wonderful Unitarian slogan of "No one can make you feel inferior without your permission." -- a slogan that I think many need to say to themselves over and over, and who for others should read something like "No one should be inferior to you without their permission." Anyways... Around 6pm I went outside and sat on the sidewalk in front of the Dome where the milonga would be held. There was a man there from Iowa, working temporarily in London. We chatted a while. He said he pays 421 pounds per week to rent out a flat in London!!! That's around $3600 per month! Incredible... Later on a tall Swede joined us. Both were friendly, and I when I went back into the bar to ask if the tango had moved downstairs or so I found that I trusted them so much that I left my bags with them. No problems. Some people I can trust immediately and other send of some vibe that makes me suspicious - I don't know exactly what it is though -- the way they talk or move? 45 minutes later the door opened. There were some Londoners there that again I hadn't seen since last February. After 20 mintues the class was under way. I was under the impression that Biljana would give a beginning class first and then I would take the intermediates and work on milonga with them. But after she introduced me she said that I would start off with exercises for everyone! I would? Uh, yes, of course I would. Once again a situation where I had a plan that was immediately thrown out the window, but it built up the excitement a little for me. I've found that I can adapt in situations like these quite easily while teaching. There were around 80 people in the class (though maybe only 15 at the very start), and I felt that it was one of my better classes. The energy was always up, and I felt connected with them from the very beginning -- I even England-nized some of my visualizations to included fish and chips and using the tube during rush hour. Then the dancing started. There were about 8-10 people who were in he Int'l week, so it felt like a little reunion. It was non-stop dancing until 12:05am when the DJ played music to kick out the crowd. It was interesting to see the organizer, Biljana, run around during the night also. It reminded me a bit of myself during my milonga back in Portland. When you're trying to organize everything it's difficult to focus on one thing -- I could see on her face the million things that she needed to do. Strange though because when we danced she was completely focused and not looking around the room or so to see if everything was running according to plan. It took a while to say goodbyes at the end -- even though I would see everyone in less than a week. Mike and I drove back with a couple of guys from Cambridge. Before we were on the highway I was already asleep. We arrivvvveeeddd, and...sleep, yes, gooood, *snore* *Zzz*...

Thursday, July 12th - Mike woke up early to fix me his version of the pancakes I fixed for him the last time I was here in Cambridge, "returning the favor," he said. In the afternoon I sorted out the usual stuff, could finally do my laundry in peace... In El Corte, in Nijmegen, it seems like no matter how many times I wash my clothes they still stink of sweat and cigarettes. In Cambridge it took washing my clothes 3 times before I got the El Corte stink out of my polyester shirts. Did a bunch of preparing and shopping. In the evening I gave a 3 hour group class on close embrace dancing. The people here really enjoyed the one class I gave last time on the close-embrace and wanted to spend more time on it. We spent 2 hours moving very slowly through just reaching to the ceiling with our upper bodies and establishing a good connection (with more intermediate dancers I can work slower -- they tend to be more patient and open to fine details). The last hour was spent on simple things beyond walking. The difference between the warm-up dance in the beginning and how they were dancing at the end was incredible. I love teaching classes like these because at the end it always looks so beautiful to see people tune-in to each other's body. I had Sam film everyone during the last dance so they could see how beautiful it really was. Unfortunately a few days later many were back to their original habits, but some had changed their dancing, and some couples even made the decision that they really enjoyed dancing in a close-embrace. After the class we headed home and chatted 'til the wee hours.

Friday, July 13th - Woke up late, taught a private in Mike's home, did some composing in the afternoon, and then around 7pm we all headed to London for some dancing. We started off at a place called the Welsh center. Numerous people have told me that the organizers tell the visiting teachers to teach sequences during the class. I've been told that you can feel the way the teaching is because the flow of the line-of-dance is like a class 6 raging rapid. There were a lot of people when we arrived and it was quite a large hall. The music was decent -- you could tell the DJ loved DiSarli and the slower tangos of the '50's -- actually it was nice that he didn't play crazy dramatic stuff because imagine it would have been a suicide mission if the dancers got too worked up. The milonga ended at 10:30pm -- probably the earliest ending night milonga in the world. But fortunately some other late-night milongas have started up since my last visit and you now had two different places you could go to and dance until 3 or 4 in the morning. We headed to the Battersea since we had arranged with some friends beforehand that we would meet there. The floor was half the size of the Welsh center and there weren't as many people, but it had a very comfortable, relaxed atmosphere that for me was very conducive to nice dancing. There was coffee, wine, and some food as well (important for me). The first DJ, Danilo, did an excellent job. I went over to him and complimented him. It was the first DJ I think I've heard in the UK that has really played the music that I like dancing to and he paced the first half of the evening with a nice variety of orchestras. The second half of the night started with a beautiful demosnstration by Sebastian Arce and his partner (who was fabulous). They performed three choregraphies, ending with a milonga. Normally I prefer to see couples improvise, but these two did a fantastic job. They stuck to a very traditional form in all their choreographies -- always ending with the flashiest variaciones that they could pull out of their bodies. They were musical, precise and clean in their steps, not over-acting, had nice contrasts between slow/quick and dynamic/passive movements -- all in all great and they looked very connected as well. After their demo there was a different DJ -- I don't remember his name. He started off with some very nice stuff, but then I think his DJing started to slip the more and more wine he began to drink. By 3am he was drunk off red wine and the format off the music seemed equally inebriated. He was playing obscure Russian waltzes and Turkish God-knows-what. He asked why I wasn't dancing and then immediate seemed to realize himself. He asked what I wanted to hear. There was a follower that I wanted to dance with, I knew how she danced, and I knew what I wanted to dance with her. "Pugliese from the '40's" I said. He said he had to play 2 more waltzes first. Equally obscure stuff. During these waltzes my adrenaline started pumping. After the second waltz had finished I jumped up and the follower I wanted to dance with immediately knew I wanted to dance with her. It was a nice mutualness in our desire to dance with each other. We had a rockin' 1 hour set to some great Pugliese and some more obscure stuff, and a little Piazzolla. It ended around 3:30am. I felt good to had finally got a full night of dancing in. Mike saved the day and drove 3 deep-sleeping tangueros safely back to Cambridge (thanks Mike!). Weee arriivvedd and sleep...yes,...*snore*

Saturday, July 14th - Woke up just in time to have a shower, eat something and head out the door to teach 3 hours of milonga to 28 Cambridgians. I taught in a different, slightly larger room than last time (this time with no picture of Christ staring at me during the whole lesson). Very nice time, especially because almost everyone had known me from last February or the close-embrace class last Thursday. There was an immediate connection between me and the group and the teaching and learning went quickly and successfully. For some people it was the third milonga class they had taken with me (Sweden, Leeds, London) -- every milonga class I've taught has been slightly different, but always was based on the same concepts. Three hours went by very quickly and I and others were surprised that they could work such a long time with milonga without becoming tired. In the evening Sam and James had their dance. After Steph, Mike and I had eaten something we headed over. There were maybe 20-30 people, some from London and Lester, the floor was nice, and some food and drinks. The music was decent, but I remember from last time as well that sometimes they would begin a song, then decide that they didn't like it and cut it off right in the middle without even fading. It was strange, but nonetheless I had an enjoyable time. When you know the people that you are dancing with, and when they are friendly it's so enjoyable to dance with them -- regardless of what level of dancer they are.

Sunday, July 15th - A private lesson at noon, and then 3 more hours teaching about some "tango illusions" - paradas, barridas, and sacadas. It was a little more challenging than the previous day, but nonetheless the time flew and everyone seemed to enjoy it. Then the adventure began. This guy Kenny, from London, (a wonderful bloke to chat with and to have in classes) and I headed in his car to London to dance at the Factory. The previous night someone ran into the back of car on a bridge while trying to overtake him. Kenny's car seemed fine, but the other guy flipped his car and it was a pretty major wreck. Anyway, we were on the M25 about 15 mintues away from the milonga when a funny sound came from his car. He slowed down and then a passing car hinked and told us that we had a flat. Shit! The only time that my blood really starts to boil is when I'm in a car on the way to a milonga and there's traffic or car problems. I thought, no worries though because we'd just put the spare on and then be underway. Bad news: the spare had a hole in it and the jack for the car didn't fit under it anyway. SHit! Kenny rang the RAC (the UK equivalent of AAA) and they said they would have a new tire to us within 1/2 an hour. I though, no worries, we'd be a little late, but could still get some good dancing in. After waiting 40 minutes we rang the RAC back and they said halp would be there withing 10 minutes. I though to myself, no worries, at least we'll still get some good dancing in. 20 minutes later still no sign of anyone. SHIt! We rang the RAC again and Kenny's tone was reasonable, but at the same time a little pissed-off at their service. They then informed us that they couldn't find a tire to match his rims and that he wasn't covered for punctures anyway. They said because we had been waiting so long (now around 2 hours) they would take pity on us and ring a towing company. SHIT! It was now 10:30pm, the milonga ends at 11:30pm. I started to face the fact that tonight I might not dance. But then a "Friendly Towing Service" truck pulled up, a 5 foot tall stalky bloke popped out of the lorry with a fag hanging out of his mouth and immediately got to work. After 2 minutes we were under way. "There is a just tango God" I thought to myself. Fortunately for me the tow truck driver had a death wish -- tailgating every car, running red lights (he had another customer after us) and driving basically like a complete maniac. We arrived at Kenny's house just long enough for Kenny to change trousers and put on some cologne before we ran out of the house to a nearby mini-cab service. The guy there didn't speak much English, but understood where we wanted to go. We hopped into his shiny luxurious Benz and raced to the milonga. At a red light along the way I paid him already because I didn't want to waste any time when we arrived. When we pulled up Kenny and I jumped out of the car and literally ran up the stairs to the milonga, threw off our jackets, were offered a "discount," paying 5 pounds to get in for 20 minutes of dancing (though I would have paid 50 pounds at this point!), entered, went straight to the followers that we wanted to dance with, danced for 20 minutes (I had a lot of pent-up energy at this point and was on a mission!). At 11:21pm exactly it was announced "last three tangos." We rocked the house and then ended. Afterwards we headed to Biljana's place and danced and chatted until 4 in the morning. When it started to get light outside we crashed.

Monday, July 16th - Woke up at noon, had breakfast and chatted a bit with Julio Mendez and Biljana, caught the 12:56pm train back to Cambridge, ran to Mike's house, taught three private lessons, had dinner, and then we were off to the church again where I would give a 1.5 hour leader's technique class. There were 13 leaders there. We worked slowly ahving them lead and follow each other, recognizing the difference between walking backwards as a leader or follower, finding "moments of peace," and covering ochos and turns. It was probably my favorite class of the weekend - the pace was just right and at the end I flet like everyone had improved their dancing.

Tuesday, July 17th - Had several privates and then in the evening gave a 1 hour beginning class followed by a 1 hour intermediate class. The beginning class was probably the worst of the weekend - not in terms of material, but in terms of being connected to the group. At times I felt like I was talking to myself -- that the students didn't really trust me or connect with me because we were strangers to each other. In the intermediate class I covered low-boleos, since it was difficult to get them out of the followers here and I hadn't seen any leaders lead them. The majority of the people in the class were people I knew, so I felt more connected with the group and it went really well. Mike and Steph had forgotten their CD's for the milonga afterwards, so I offered to DJ because I had all my pre-burned CD's with tandas with me. The dancing started and I had a wonderful time. The line of dance was superb (though there are always a few misfits in every community) and I had one of those unstoppable evenings where every dance was great. Mike had a birthday dance. At the end I offered to work with them a little if they wanted because they had done such a nice job of organizing, but Mike had a sore throat and the look on his face only said, "get me to bed, fast." So we headed home, sorted out the money, chatted a bit and then went to sleep.

Wednesday, July 18th - Woke up, fixed pancakes for Mike, wrote and composed a little. While writing there was a knock on the door. I answered. It was a man wanting to start removing goods from the house becase of an outstanding warrant on some guy named Vivian. I asked the man if he had the correct address. 83 Brampton Road, yup. I said The only man living here was MIke and that he had only recently bought the house. OK. He flipped the pages on his notebook, I imagine looking at the next address to start "removing goods" from. What a job! Then I caught the express train to London King's Cross and then the tube to Bow road where I met up with two complete strangers for dinner because they had been following this journal! They don't dance tango, but read the journal, e-mailed me, I replied saying I would be in London, they replied asking me to dinner and I went. It was pouring as I walked down Bow Road to the Rudtone House. knocked on their door not really knowing what to expect. A tall slender man, soft-spoken, asked if he could help with my bag. I came in and greeted them -- it was nice to finally put a face to their e-mails! They fixed a wonderful vegetarian curry, a salad, and nice pastry for dessert. We chatted about traveling, Buddhism, music...and before I knew it I had to turn around and leave to catch the tube to the Dome. She decided to stay home (even though I tried to convince her to come to the lesson), but he decided to join me, though was hesitant to take the beginning class - "I'll just watch," no problem. So we arrived, surviving the mad rush hour in the tube. The first part of the class I workede on getting everyone connected with each other in the dance. I also found that there seems to be a regular crowd there for the lessons -- I recognized quite a few of them and felt with many like they were friends. The second part we concentrated just on boleos -- working 45 minutes on leading and following a nice, swively pivot, and most of the rest of the time working on the low vs. high boleos and keeping the flying leg inside the frame (followers think of kicking your leader in the pocket on the back boleo and kicking yourself in the butt for the front). They were patient and worked hard. By the end of the class there were at least 50 people in the class! So, everyone got their 10 seconds of personal attention and the milonga started. I felt at home and danced freely, uninhibited, with that unstoppable feeling and reaching the conscious state 8 with one follower. Afterwards some of us headed to Biljana's place (thanks for letting me crash there Biljana!), chatted, had tea, whipped up some spicy stir-fry, chatted some more and off the sleep on the couch at 3:30am.

Thursday, July 19th - Woke up at 8am, took a quick shower, popped a few vitamin C's and downed them with tea for breakfast before heading out the door to catch the tube, then the Gatwick Express (which was not very express that day), then a plane to Pittsburgh, and then another to SFO -- 19 hours total travel time -- Blech! It really kills me. I pay $700 to fly across the Atlantic and back and for $700 receive what feels like the aftermath of the execution of a temporary death sentence -- I'm even paying $15 to kill myself even more with the greasiest food available in the western hemisphere here in this airport bar. It's really bizarre, to pay this much, to die a little in order to live a little, to spend in order to earn, to lie in boredom in order to love, to teach in order to learn and to learn in order to teach, to achieve the height of my passions - only to fall just as low on the other side of the local maxima, to be tempted in order to cling on to my virtues, to be virtuous in order to be tempted, to leave in order to arrive and upon arriving to leave once more, to travel far to see home, to be at home to want to travel, to believe in Zen in order to disbelieve all beliefs, to cling in order to let go, to let go in order to regain it once again, to love and leave in order to love more, to hold onto the past in order to secure the future, to live in the present in order to continue on into the future, and to look ahead in the future in order to remember the past. Past lives, past desires, past friends, past conflicts that now provide me with entertainment in my "old age." To eat in order to feel hunger, to fast in order to savour every morsel, to listen in order to appreciate silence, to sit in silence in order to want to hear the music. The heart starts beating only to stop again, the brain builds memories only to forget everything, trimming hair so that it grows back longer, thicker, thinning trees so they can become/remain dense. Impossible to create only one thing, one idea, one passion, desire, one thought -- bifurcations are inevitable and dichotomies exist only because one always makes two. Nothing has one -- things come in pairs, opposites attract, and bodies towards each other gravitate. The closer you are, the faster you will get closer, the further you travel the more work it takes to come back. Nada cambio, todo es igual -- the law of conservation of energy understated in the lyrics of a tango. But it is possible, I think, to travel back up the ladder, back from the leaves through the branches and down to the center trunk. Free yourself of the dichotomies and you will come closer to some sort of singularity, there will be less confusion, less pathways -- only the largest ones will remain and a rebirth can begin anew each waking day. Start fresh each day, know there are no rules except the ones that you impose on yourself or the ones that you allow to be imposed on you, open your creative mind and trust your own decisions. The only thing that can stop you is yourself. Learn the basic structure to everything new you learn and then realize that the structure was created by individuals without a knowledge of this structure. The true geniuses are the ones that know that there are no limits to how far the mind can go. Imagine, believe, act and you will surprise yourself. In every discipline there seems to be a point at which after many hours of consecutive practice the practitioner becomes the discipline, the self disappears into an abyss and the consciousness becomes the discipline. If there are tools involved they become part of the body -- the practitioner manipulates the tools with the skill and dexterity as if it were his or her own hand. After this, the tool and the receiving party also fuse, and the receiving party and anything that is connected to that. On the largest scale, total connectedness with one's self, one's immediate surroundings, and all the many levels of meta-surroundings. So, that's my big Guru fart for the day...now I, and this journal, need some sleep. *FIN*