Turns

Giros, enrosques, molinetes, cadenas, calecitas and a myriad of other terms I don't even remember, refer to actions that initiate and/or execute variations of a (seemingly) simple act, so essential to tango— the ability to do turns...


Why bother with turns?
There is a great emphasis on the tango walk. This is true. It all starts with the walk.

When I first started tango, I was heavily reliant on just walking—Front, back and sideways. However, when I find myself (finally) going to milongas, I realized quite quickly that walking in line of dance does have it's limitations.

The limitations of walking happens when the line of dance momentarily slows down or stops. I couldn't move via walking and found that I couldn't just stand there. Rock-steps would suffice, but not for the whole tanda.

My conundrum was how to keep my tango interesting, while I slow down in walking, without stopping in movement, maintaining graceful dance motion, while still moving very slowly forward (or in place) in the line of dance. I had to learn to turn in place, turn around, turn left, turn right, turn in rotation, turning, turning, turning...


Turns... from different teachers
Learning anything in tango for me is a difficult process. Each teacher I went to, almost always taught me several ways to turn. I only retained one turn per teacher—most of the time. With some teachers, I learned nothing at all. With enough perseverance, I retained enough turns to build a foundation.


Combining and improvising
I previously said "Foundation." That is because I never have retained the turns as they were taught to me. I remember "Why" a turn is done they way it is and "How" it's supposed to look. That's about it. I don't remember the blow by blow "How-to."

What I've done is to remember the concepts of a particular turn, adopt it to my personal tango, and attempt to make it flow as one by combining them and improvising as I go.


Turn mechanics
I've found that being able to turn my partner was not a function of steps and feet. Rather, I've found that if I lead resolutely with my chest, know where my partner's weight is and figure out where our mutual pivot points are, then I simply lead her chest around that pivot point. Her feet simply follow.


Realities of a milonga
The realities of the milonga necessitate putting all of the aforementioned together. The milonga is sometimes packed. Some leads are great, some back up in traffic, some cut in front, most are respectful of the line of dance. Sometimes the floor is fast, sometimes the floor is excruciatingly slow.

Regardless where I find myself, my walks, combined with turns interact together to create my own unique tango floor craft. That way, I keep my partner safe, constantly moving, and in synch with the music.



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Drapes and Rods

There is an old ballroom cliché that says, "You are the frame, the woman is the picture. Whatever you do is to make her look good." 


Now that I dance Tango exclusively, I still keep that to heart, with my own tango appropriate modification. Frames and pictures, connotes something beautiful, yet static. Something to ogle at as it stands stoically for all to see.

I would much rather think of the tango relationship as Drapes and Rods...

The Rod
I am the rod, complete with finials and sconces. Alone, I am just a fancy piece of wrought iron metal hanging over the grand entrance. Without my partner, I'm just there with no visible purpose.

The Drapes
The lady is the drape. She is the beautiful fabric of which those who see will marvel at her stunning beauty. Without the curtain rod, the fabric lays flat and unappreciated

The Dance
My point is that, separately, we are simply props laying around. There is no chemistry, no movement, no mastery. Apart, we are nothing.

Together, awash in the music of the bandoneon, dancing a la milonguero... magic happens.

I am the rod that holds up the drape. She is the magnificent cascading delicate fabric. It is my job to move her. My motion creates the movement that catches and moves her upon the breeze. It is her job to float and flow with me upon the breeze. Together, we become the music.

It is my job to make her flow. It is my job to make her move. It is my job to make her beautiful. It is our job to compliment each other—Like Drapes and Rods.



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"Landing" her first

One of the most significant learning experiences I've ever had (in tango) was knowing when my partner has landed her weight BEFORE I lead something else. It makes for a better, smoother dance...


A leader in learning
I remember the time when I was first learning to lead in tango. Woe to my partners at the time as I was very consistent—In knocking them off their axis. I would go from move to move and it seemed that they could never keep up with me, nor keep their balance.

Much to my chagrin, their awkward debacles were my fault! Later in my (tango) learning process, I realized that I kept knocking them off their axis because of two things. First, I was impatient. Second, I was impatient because I didn't know if my partners had finished shifting their weight or not.

I had made the mistaken assumption that my partners knew what to do. What I should have done was to learn how to lead properly.


A major epiphany–Shifting weights
My epiphany lay in the fact that in order (for me) to go from lead to lead, I had to get the timing right—I needed a signal.

I figured out that the signal I needed was to know when she "landed" her weight. That's when my partner has completed her movement. This, I needed to know before I lead my next thing.

Our chests are connected to our feet
This is one technique I use to know where my partner's weight is. Since I dance exclusively in close embrace, I used our chest-to-chest connection as a telegraph by concentrating deeply and feeling her movements.

I find it difficult to explain all the nuances, but here is my rule of thumb. There are three movements after I initiate a lead. First—she answers my lead by responding to it. Second—She follows my center, then returns to align with it. Third—(My epiphany) I feel her feet touch down, then, she settles and her whole weight "lands" on her leg.

That moment is the moment I know that she's ready. It's the signal I was looking for! It's the (only) time for me to lead something else without knocking her over!




In tango, many simple things make so big a difference. This is just one of those examples. That single learning experience of knowing when my partner lands her weight made all the difference from attempting a judo takedown to a smooth giro.




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Every time I dance, I take a chance

Every time I go up to a lady to ask for a dance, either directly or via cabeceo, a little voice in the back of my head raises alarm bells... I am taking a chance!

The (main) chances I take

• A chance of rejection

There is always a chance of being turned down. I am not a rock star that women would fall over each other to dance with (it would be nice). I am just another ex-Tango Zombie, who really likes to dance. My point is, I'm not guaranteed a dance every time

• A chance of nervousness

I am not always as confident as I think I am. When I realize that I'm not as ready as I thought I was, I get so nervous and my tango blows up. It goes from a promise of a blissful tanda, to a long arduous ordeal for my partner

• The chance of having a "brain fart"

I've been doing tango for a while now. Every now and then, I find myself just not remembering, not knowing, not doing whatever it was I was trying to lead. Alzheimer's perhaps? Too many knock on my head in my youth? It's a "Brain fart!"

• The chance of asking an inept follow

When dancing with strangers, every now and then, I chance upon a inept follow. It is seldom, but when it happens, I will finish the tanda and be the best lead I can and give her the best dance I can give her. It would not be a good tanda for me, but I hope it will be good for her.

• The chance of being a bad lead

The inverse of the preceding. I try to be as best a lead as I can be. However, on occasion, I'm "out of it," I'm "not into it," or, worse I can be having a "brain fart" night. If I'm a bad lead it's inexcusable as I would give my partner a bad dance

• A bunch of other hang-ups

The preceding are the major stuff that worries me when I take a lady to the dance floor. There are is a myriad of other stuff that sometimes befuddle me. Things seemingly so trivial as " 'Is my cologne too much?' 'Do my clothes match?' 'Are my boots shined?' 'Is there too much stuff in my pockets? Etc, etc, etc.

All of these all play in my head when I ask a lady to dance. So much can go so wrong so fast that it is in fact, taking a chance.

Why I STILL take the chance to dance 
Getting over hang-ups (in tango) is like taking a leap of faith. I find that the magic that happens when one dances tango is an overwhelming reason to brave the minefield of misgiving in one's own mind. As much as I like to dance, it is important that I face the risks of asking (and getting) to dance a tanda of tango. Otherwise, I'd be sitting out the night, moping in a corner.

While it is true that every time I dance, I take a chance... It is even much truer that in order to dance I MUST take the chance.

Someone asked me to teach tango

A non-tango colleague of mine, quite insistently, asked me to teach her tango. Maybe even start a tango club at work. I graciously said no and gave my reasons. My colleague seemed baffled at my answer. I just ended up saying that I couldn't teach.

I guess, trying to address my true reasons were something only tango people would truly understand—I think...



Don't want to teach steps
I can (probably) teach different levels of steps, mechanical techniques, come up with patterns, and develop really deep tango concepts. However, I'm not inclined to go down this road because I have not the time nor the patience for such an endeavor. As a friend of mine once said, "As far as tango goes, I'm a consumer, not a producer."

The real reason I don't want to teach
The real reason I truly do not want to teach is this—I cannot teach anyone to express themselves with their own souls. I can teach my expression from MY soul. Having someone trying to adopt my interpretation  will end up with someone trying to emulate myself. What I would want to happen is for everyone is to create a distinctive "you." I do not know enough to inspire someone to activate and express their own brand of tango from deep within.


When the time comes when I figure out how to inspire people to develop their own tango expression, maybe I'll consider teaching tango, but, not until then.

My little bunny brain blow ups

One of my major tango pitfalls are attending Tango workshops and tango lessons. I... am... a... slow... learner.

My latest  foray into the tango workshop world was with a beautiful and dear friend. Secretly, I was a little hesitant going to the workshop. It has been so long since I've taken a workshop. Soon, I would remember why I don't do workshops anymore.

The workshop started off well enough. I breezed through the first materials. As the workshop progressed and more (and complicated) material was given, the more disconcerted I got. My dancing got progressively worse. My loving embraced turned into something in between a bear-hug and a submission hold. My giros resembled something like Judo takedowns done to tango music. It was bad.

With remorse, I apologized to my partner for my man-handling. She smiled and said, "Your little bunny brain blew up." I so very mush agreed.


Short circuiting synapses
The reason my brain fries (regularly) during lessons and workshops is because of volume vs. time. The teacher will throw so much stuff at me, and so fast. My mind and body are overwhelmed and incapable of absorbing everything in one session.

It takes time for my muscle memory to learn and adapt. It takes time for my brain to absorb the patterns and steps. My motor skills and body mechanics have not processed fast enough to deliver proper technique.

Then, in fits of desperation, frustration, and aggravation, my philosophical brain takes over and tries to analyze (and/or justify) the applicability of the lesson in a real milonga... While I'm still trying to do all of the aforementioned!


Managing my short-comings
I cannot hope to come up to the level of my expert teachers. I do however, am capable of being a passable social dancer. That being said, I have developed my "Ampster's strategy to tango learning from lessons:"

• I know my boundaries and capabilities
• I pick and choose from the lessons they gave me, and try to modify and adapt them to a social milonga floor
• I take the lessons and figure out the body mechanics to make it work 
• I visualize (like a movie in my mind) how its supposed to work. I think of the appropriate technique, body mechanics, timing, leading that I need to do
• I only do "The move" if I can lead it comfortably with a follower. If I can't, I won't have her suffer through my incompetence

In addressing all of my little bunny brain blow-ups, I resign myself to the fact that I am not infallible. I take my time to learn. I cannot do everything that was taught to me, but I [eventually] can do enough to add a little tidbit to my repertoire. Eventually, those little tidbits add up to make for an interesting tanda.



P.S. To my wonderful and beautiful tango workshop buddy... Thank you for putting up with me :)

The movie star in my arms

Every woman I tango with is a movie star.

She is the reason I dance tango

She is the reason I improve my dance

I adore her

I care for her

I venerate her

I revel in the warmth of her embrace

I must make her comfortable in my embrace

It is my job to make her look good

It is my job to make her feel good

It is my job to lead her well

If she dances well, I dance well

If we dance well, the music is within us

If the music is within us, we are one

If we are one, then we are in tango

I truly care for the woman I tango with, for she is the movie star in my arms