If I
found the entrance to Shangri-la would I tell anyone? The answer is ‘yes’
because how would anyone know I had been there? A boy has to brag about his
adventures even if he’s just climbing imaginary mountains or dancing tango at a splendid arroyo estate in New Mexico. I worry not that its location will be overrun by the
mass hordes because I am confident they are too busy looking for
heaven somewhere within their television sets and computer chat rooms, and not in a place where tango is practiced with a high degree of passion and proficiency.
This
night Kayak Hombre and his German companion arrive in the tiny New Mexico town
of Pojoaque (pronounced: poh-yoki) at 9:30 p.m. in search of tango. Driving
down dirt roads at night in the high desert gets kind of spooky and I have to reassure
my friend I have been to many a tango location in equally ominous settings. At one point I regale her with a tale of my quest to find tango
in the old-town section of Quebec City. There I
entered a graffiti-strewn courtyard and climbed a broken metal stairway to
discover an old doorway leading to the best tango in the province of Quebec and
probably the entire country of Canada.
There is
a full moon adding to the mystique of our desert surroundings. The light at the
peak of the lunar cycle revealed, amongst the pencil cacti and tumbleweeds, towering walls of adobe and fortified wooden gates juxtaposed by modern security
keypads demanding pass codes. After turning through a maze of lefts and rights on
the bumpy earthen boulevard, we abandon our search and head back to town, certain
we had misread the directions. Before we make it back to the paved highway and
civilization, my copilot retrieves the website information on her iPhone and reaffirms
what we hoped was not true: we were at the right place.
It seems
we missed a vital piece of data: “…pull up to the gate and it will
open automatically.” We drive back down the labyrinth of dirt roads in the
midst of what we are certain is a Mexican drug lord’s graveyard and our final
resting place. Arriving at the gate it opens like the entrance to a secret cave
hiding Aladdin’s priceless treasures…and what we found was not far from it.
Driving
down the long, cobbled driveway to the Temple of the Living Goddess at the
Heart-Path Retreat Center, we find a campus of cars parked on every available
inch of open space: the place was packed! Getting out of the car we navigate a
wonderfully landscaped moonlit-walkway to the main building and enter an
anteroom where we discard our street shoes for dance shoes. From the next room
we hear someone speaking German which immediately piqued the interest of my
Teutonic tanguera.
As a
veteran of many an East Coast milonga I’m accustomed to seeing tangueras
sitting on the sidelines for hours at a time waiting for an invitation to
dance. I fear that may be the case tonight for my girlfriend. Women don't suffer through the pain and agony required to acquire the proficiency needed to dance tango at a milonga only to spend the night dancing to every song with the same man. If that was the case we could have stayed home and saved a few nights' hotel fees and eight hours total driving.
Frequently I’ve received appeals from desperate tangueros to dance with their
girlfriends or spouses. Tonight I was a stranger in a strange land
and I worried that this night would find me tempted to make a similar pitch to
the local tangueros. I could have spared myself the anxiety for my lady friend was welcomed with open arms and many well-led tandas.
The main
room of the sanctuary is a site to behold. I am certain it is one of the seven wonders of the tango
world, comparable to the giant doors at Milonga de las Puertas, in Albuquerque,
and the mural on the back wall at Triangulo in the Big Apple.
The
ceiling of this room is an enormous domed-ring of stained glass held aloft by
a circle of Ponderosa Pine timbers, each easily fifty feet in length and extending
through the walls to the building’s exterior. The beams are so large they
seemed to have been erected by giants and give the space a gargantuan appeal. The
walls are decorated with an abundance of paintings depicting Christ the Savior
in various settings that remind me of a Spanish Conquistador’s castle (not
that I’ve ever seen one).
There is other art work on the walls as well and I wish I had time to peruse the
room, gawk and contemplate each piece, for every one of them, at first glance, appears to be a work worthy of display in a museum. Our time here passes far too
quickly for me to fully admire the splendor of our surroundings.
I danced
the first tanda with my date. I asked another tanguera to join me for the
next set of songs and hoped my favorite partner would not be sitting this tanda
out. She was on the floor in a flash and I had to compete with the other
leaders to get her attention the rest of the night!
The men
of this milonga obviously took their responsibilities as tangueros very seriously
and did their best to ensure no woman was sitting long enough to catch her
breath.
The most
spectacular phenomenon about this event was the music: INCREDIBLE!!!! Cudos to
DJ Regina and her fine playlist. I am a big fan of the classics, which she
played often, but I am tired of the required late-night Nuevo Tango set always
being something by Gotan or Libedinsky. The lovely Regina, a music connoisseur
as well as a skilled dancer, impressed me greatly with her choice of ‘Assassin’s
Tango’, a melody from the soundtrack to the movie ‘Mr. and Mrs. Smith’ as one
of her many great Nuevo Tango selections.
Sometimes
it is enjoyable just to watch tango dancers and such was the case when ‘Assassin’s
Tango’ played. It is such a delightfully challenging tune that I was curious to
see how tonight’s crowd chose their movements and embellishments: I was extremely
impressed! Adding to my pleasure was a plate full of the best tango food ever
served at a milonga: a salad comprised of a well-mixed plethora of vegetables,
some seedless watermelon chunks and a delicious pasta salad. There were many more delectable items on the food table but a man can only fit so much on
his plate.
A great
time was had by all. Rarely is there such an abundance of skilled tangueros
dedicated to the pleasure of all the tangueras in attendance. I believe the
hostess, Sylvana Pagani, is to be congratulated and commended for her efforts
in organizing this event which was definitely a herculean task. There is much hard work that goes into preparing for such a
well-attended festivity, particularly in garnering the support of so many accomplished
milongueros. I'm sure this is easily overlooked especially when everything is executed with seamless perfection.
Our walk back to the car was along another route that took us through a desert landscape fully illuminated by the moon now high in the sky: absolutely spectacular! I extend my compliments to the gardening team on a job done, not just well, but to superb perfection.
On the
long drive back to our hotel in Santa Fe, my date grabbed my hand frequently as
she recounted with excitement each incredible encounter with a new dance
partner. I must admit that a few times I felt a tinge of jealousy as she described
some of the better dancers and how they choreographed their movements or how
they conveyed their lead with ease. That is to be expected but most important
to me, at fifty-two years of age, is that I was able to bring her to a gathering that brought her so much pleasure and gave us both so many delightful memories.
I give
my thanks to the keepers of the Temple of the Living Goddess at the Heart-Path
Retreat Center and to all who made such a wonderful milonga there possible. You
have achieved greatness and have made the world a better place if only for one
night!
Note: Check out my new book on Amazon:
Fear of Intimacy and the Tango Cure.
(For a more in-depth looking into the mind of the Kayak
Hombre and his thoughts on tango, buy his book: River Tango, now available on
Amazon.com at
http://www.amazon.com/River-Tango-perri-iezzoni/dp/1453865527
)
