Camille Cusumano

The best guidebook that is more than a guidebook is my travel memoir, TANGO AN ARGENTINE LOVE STORY. Many readers have told me they read it while here in Buenos Aires and followed the places I wrote about and loved doing that.

City of 100 Barrios -  Buenos Aires natives are called Porteños, because this is a port city. The residents are very tied to the barrio where they were born. Most visitors love the hip Palermo, the chic Recoleta, and gentrified San Telmo, which lays claim to the birth of tango along with La Boca, which features the kitchsy but must-see El Caminito. There is Almagro which has a museum dedicated to tango icon Carlos Gardel and lots of candy-colored tango shoe stores and Las Cañitas, which is really a sub-barrio of the Belgrano barrio. Many visitors like Puerto Madero – it is quite nice, but has a “reconstituted” feel unlike the other “organic” barrios. It’s not on the top of my list.

TANGO SHOWS – Esquina Carlos Gardel, 3200 Carlos Gardel; (54-11) 4867-6363; info@esquinacarlosgardel.com.ar; Esquina Homera Manzi, 3601 San Juan Avenue; (54-11) 4957-8488, info@esquinahomeromanzi.com.ar.

TANGO-themed lodging (see below for lots more lodging recommendations) I have now danced and slept (not on the same nights) in Mansion Dandi Royal. It’s quite luxurious and a splurge. I highly recommend it. It’s in San Telmo: Piedras 922/936 – San Telmo  Phone: (+54 11) 4361-3537 / Fax: (+54 11) 4361-6021 Email: reservas@mansiondandiroyal.com. Maria’s Tango House – I never stayed here, but did take a yoga class in this handsomely restored home: mariatango@hotmail.com. tel-fax 0054-11-4308-0891.  Caseron Porteño Hotel, on Ciudad de La Paz 344; is in Belgrano barrio. It offers lots of tango classes, outings. I never stayed here but took a tour once and many of my friends have loved it; phone (0)11 4554 6336. The San Telmo Loft is not especially tango-themed, but I’m listing it here because its caretaker is tango savvy and one of the best sources of info—like a built-in concierge—on the city. I attended an intimate party at the loft and it is romantic.

Tango Teachers in Buenos Aires – As a wise tango friend said to me once, “Asking for a recommendation for a tango teacher is like asking me to tell you who to pick for a best friend.” It’s that personal but connecting with a teacher here is like falling off a log (or tripping on the city’s cobbled streets). But, if you’re new to BA, you need to start somewhere, so I’ll make some recommendations, especially for beginners. Eduardo (and Rachel) of  Taxidancers - is wonderful especially for beginners. Oscar Casas – is in my book – good classes, good teacher. Escuela Argentina de Tango (three locations in Buenos Aires) also has loads of classes, great teachers, every level, every style. I love Manuco Firmani, known as Juan at Mora Godoy school on Pueyrredon (manucofirmani@hotmail.com). TIP: Nearly every milonga (the venue where tango is danced) has classes beforehand. There are more than a hundred milongas in Buenos Aires. Pick up the free tango magazines, especially the Tango Map Guide, with all the information you will need on milongas, classes, teachers, shoes, etc. Ask your hotel where to find these magazines—milongas give them out for free. Read my recommendations on Tango for Armchair Observers.

So you don’t tango . . . Peñas - Tango is only Argentina’s most famous “folk” dance. There is also the chacarera, zamba, and Chilean cueco. Peñas are clubs where “folclorico” dancing and live music occurs are enjoying a huge renaissance. The are energetic, interactive, and some have wonderful menus – with delicious indigenous foods. The most popular one is Peña de Colorado on Guemes in Palermo. Jazz - There is a great little jazz club in Palermo, called Thelonious at 1884 Salguero. Clasica y Moderna on Callao at Cordoba also often has live music at night.

Top tourist attraction – - – The Recoleta Cemetery is the city’s top tourist attraction, in part due to the mystique of Eva Peron. Her art deco crypt is modest relative to many other cottage-size mausoleums here, but the whole graveyard is a worth seeing. I recommend the English tour at 11 a.m. (an hour), given daily. Nearby the cemetery, visit the lovely little white church and the Café La Biela with its amazing rubber tree on the terrace. This café is Parisian-like and atmospheric. It’s worth a coffee or small libation, but the food is average – so save your big appetite for elsewhere (below). TIP: La Chacarita Cemetery is even better. Tango singer Carlos Gardel’s crypt is there.

STREET FAIRS – Street fairs or ferias, are popular with visitors. San Telmo’s Defensa Street on a Sunday is huge, lively and well attended (pickpocket alert, beware). But the one also on Sundays in Mataderos, the former livestock-slaughter barrio, is the best, according to me, with many more locals in attendance – for the food, artisan goods, street dancing. AND, there are lots of urban cowboys (gauchos) there, competing in spell-binding equine events. Recoleta’s feria, Plaza Francia (Libertador near Pueyrredon) is good, too, on Sunday.

CLASSY STROLLING - – - The 16-lane Libertador is often called the Champs Elysées of BA. For about 1 ½ to 2 miles, it bisects Paris-style cafes, parks, plazas, majestic embassies, and several museums of note. Start around Pueyrredon & Libertador and go to the Palermo park, Tres de Febrero. Don’t miss the park’s stunning rose garden, Patio Andaluz, and the sculpture, Flor de Juventud, the long pergola along a lake, fountains, sculptures, gazebos, the gangly ombu, the tree that is not really a tree. The Hippodromo is right after the park, a feast of neo-renaissance architecture. Another green place in a big city include the Reserva Ecologica, with  hectares of green space to breathe in, bird watching, walking along the river Plate.

MUSEUMS OF NOTE – - -I never tire of the free Museo de Belles Artes (Libertador at Pueyrredon). Also, not too far away, and also impressive are MALBA and the eye candy Museo Nacional de Artes Decorativos in a neo-classical mansion. The Museo Evita, in a mansion on Lafinur, is small and fun. In the Palermo park, Tres de Febrero, is a lovely small museum, Eduardo Sivori, with a wonderful inner-courtyard café with great lemonade.

EATS – Buenos Aires has these wonderful traditional cafes where you eat cheap and well, just like an Argentine. See my New York Times article for all the info.

MORE RESTAURANTS I LOVE: Oviedo on Beruti and Ecuador in the Recoleta has been my favorite restaurant. It’s at the high end – has a great menu, Spanish influenced – good fish, quail, lamb, suckling pig, nice wine list. Sotto Voce, more Italian, also at the high end and very good, buzzes with famous or rich. La Cupertina, in Palermo Hollywood, on Cabrera. Cervantes (in my book) cheap parrilla (Argentine grill), has a big open dining room (mostly Argentines there) on Peron between Callao and Riobamba. You get heaps of food, so share. La Cabrera on Cabrera, near about Armenia, in Palermo Soho, is popular parrilla, more upscale experience, more expensive. I love the dinky (locals, cheap, great) neighborhood parrilla like San Cayetano, in my barrio, Recoleta, on Arenales right at Austria. La Pharmacie - on Charcas at Vidt in Palermo is cheap, neighborly, and has good pizza, pasta, parrilla, empanadas.

PIZZA – It’s everywhere in BA but not all is good. El Cuartito is a real Buenos Aires experience and great pizza. It’s at 937 Talcahuano near Cordoba. If you like thin crust you’ll Pizza a la Parrilla on Scalabrini Ortiz near Loyola.

VEGETARIAN-friendly/Organic – - – Despite the abundance of grass-fed beef, vegetarians are not left to graze in the pasture. They  have many choices in Buenos Aires. Natural Deli is not strictly vegetarian but uses excellent, quality ingredients and is health-conscious. Three locations: Barrio Norte: Calle Laprida 1672, 4822-1228; Las Cañitas: Calle Gorostiaga 1776. 4777-0418. Bio, at 2199 Humboldt, is popular. Krishna Indian vegetarian is in Palermo – great, intimate ambience on Malabia 1833 (between Costa Rica and Nicaragua Streets). Green Life vegetarian buffet is gorgeous and as good as it looks, and cheap. It’s on Av. Corrientes 1915, near Riobamba. La Casa de Ohsawa 415 Ciudad de la Paz is macrobiotic – so it has some fish and meat, but is mostly vegetarian. It’s in Belgrano, a sweet, tree-lined residential barrio. Lotos, 1577, Córdoba,  a Chinese buffet, vegetarian and vegan, only open until 6pm.

FAMOUS CAFES – - – No doubt you’ll stumble upon your own favorite café or bar-café—they are ubiquitous. The famous ones include Tortoni, Las Violetas, and Cafe de los Angelitos, each is rife with history and eye-pleasing architecture and pretty good menus (except for Las Violetas – don’t do more than tea or coffee there).

ARCHITECTURE – - – The French and Italian influence is immediately recognizable here, some of it in shambles, but a lot of it preserved. Any one of the three are photo ops: Palacio de Aguas Corrientes – On Riobamba near Corrientes. The most amazing Palace of Running Waters looks as if it is wearing a hundred broaches in coral, turquoise, and ochre enamel. It once channeled tons of water for the city. The scene of a macabre crime in Tomas Eloy Martinez’s acclaimed novel, The Tango Singer (wonderful literary read), the building now houses a small museum with guided tours—toilet seats and fixtures never seemed so interesting. Try it. Palacio Barolo – on Avenide de Mayo (not far from Tortoni Café) is the sumptuous design of Italian architect Mario Palanti who was inspired by Dante’s Divine Comedy–tours available. The palace has a designated heaven, hell, and purgatory. The Tango Moda clothiers above the 16th floor (heaven) is a great place to see the cupolas and views of the city. The Teatro Colon, closed, re-opened, closed, due to re-open (can change any minute)- tours available. Check its Web site. See world-class opera, music, ballet for a fraction of what these high arts cost in the U.S. Or just ogle the structure that takes up a whole block.

Ex-cellent Libris – bookstores-cum-cafes – - – You gotta love a city in a Catholic country that has more bookstores than churches. Despite (or because of?) all their (dysfunctional) government woes, Argentines have a high literacy rate. Three book-worm-friendly ones—with English-books sections: Ateneo (I prefer the one on Santa Fe near Callao), Clasica y Moderna (Callao near Cordoba), and Libros Cuspide (one in the mall on Vicente Lopez, near Recoleta cemetery, is best). Zivales on Callao at Cordoba is a great store for books and music.

Ice Cream – Most but not all of the helado (ice cream) here is equal to or better than gelato. The flavors, like dulce de leche, crema rusa or crema Americana, are fantastic and unique. I DON’T recommend Freddo which is everywhere and too gummy in texture. Persicco is excellent but its prices have gotten out of hand. There are many little ice cream places that are good and one really good mom and pop parlor is right at the corner of Pueyrredon and General Mansilla.

Day and two-day trips – - – If cowboys are your weakness, my favorite trip outside the city is to San Antonio de Areco, (has a whole chapter in my book)  – - – a scenic and classy working gaucho town in the pampas, with plazas, cafes, restaurants, great artisan shopping. I always stay at least a night and prefer two. You reach it by a 1 3/4 hour bus ride (frequent departures) from Retiro (alert: pickpocket heaven). Try the buslines, Chevallier or General Belgrano. San Anton has lovely boutique-y inns, posadas. A couple of high-end estancias are nearby, but you need a car or taxi to reach them. They are mentioned in my book, TANGO, in the chapter Even Cowboys Dance Tango. If you are sincerely interested in having a guide, Pato (in the same chapter), email me for her info. Where to stay in San Anton: If you email me, I’ll share my favorite cozy corner where I lodged in my book. I’ve stayed at both of the following and they are lovely: Posada Draghi, Matheu 380 2760 San Antonio Areco, Buenos Aires Province; (0)2326 454 219. Posada De La Plaza Alvear 480, 2760 San Antonio de Areco, Buenos Aires 02326 45-2955 ‎

Many people enjoy a day trip to El Tigre or taking the Buquebus across the broadest river in the world, Rio de la Plata, to Uruguay’s Colonia de Sacramento. I’ve enjoyed both.

Viva Zapatos! Tango Shoes – - – - In my collection of, oh, two dozen or so tango shoes, I have pairs from NeoTango, Victorio, and Darco’s, all good labels. But my Fattomano’s handmade shoes are tops. I just got my first pair and they are divine. They are flexible in the front of the foot – metatarsal area – where I need it for my adornos while dancing. But they have sturdy metal support in the arch. And they fit my high arches. And, and: They have not cardboard filler, but all leather, and thick cushy insulation where your foot repeatedly hits the floor most. They are heavenly. And I love the design – gold on gold with straps that snap – easy to close and open. Juan the shoe maker is the first guy to really get how different my two feet are. Allow about two weeks here to have them made – with a fitting or two between. Fattomano is at 4464 Guatemala, near Scalabrini Ortiz.

LODGING IN BUENOS AIRES - – - Aside from two splendid nights at Dandi Mansion, I’ve only ever stayed in one hotel here, Hotel Savoy – very good; it’s on Callao. But I was with a big group (2005) so it was part of the package. I have mostly lived in apartments – if you are looking for one, try the site, www.bytargentina.com – it has a solid reputation with many foreigners.  I have either personally visited the places listed below, or I am listing them because I trust National Geographic Traveler (my source for the list), since I have worked with that publication. The $ ratings are NGT’s.

The best places to stay in four price ranges: budget ($), moderate ($$), expensive ($$$), and luxury ($$$$)

$ BUDGET

The Cocker - – - “An expertly recycled mansion in one of the city’s most historic and atmospheric districts.”—Matt Chesterton, editor, Time Out Buenos Aires guidebook. Five-suite guesthouse in San Telmo kept in impeccable shape by English owners, who named the locale for their friendly dog Rocco. Lovely stay, especially for the price. Avenida Juan de Garay 458; tel. 54 11 4362 8461. www.thecocker.com

Ayres Porteños Hostel - This totally tango-theme hostel in the popular neighborhood of San Telmo is super economical, with about 100 beds in its 30 rooms. Peru 708; tel. 54 11 4300 7314.

$$ MODERATE

Mansion Dandi Royal “Perfect for tango junkies, it’s a beautifully restored mansion in San Telmo, with its own tango dance studio.”—Brian Byrnes, co-author, Fodor’s Buenos Aires. Five floors of 30 rooms featuring glass-pane doors, period frescoes, tango channels, and tango music. Breakfast included. Pool, gym, and two outdoor patios. Piedras 922/936; tel. 54 11 4361 3537. www.mansiondandiroyal.com/

Bobo Hotel and Restaurant - Restored home turned boutique hotel in the happening district of Palermo Soho, walking distance to the Plaza Serrano and many hot restaurants, bars, and shops. Each of its seven spacious rooms has a funky theme, design, and name, such as “pop,” “classic,” and “minimalist.” Guatemala 4882; tel. 54 11 4774 0505. www.bobohotel.com

1555 Malabia House – “One of the first designer guesthouses in this ultra-hip barrio and still one of the best.”—Matt Chesterton. An urban bed-and-breakfast with 15 rooms housed in a former convent in the heart of Palermo Viejo (Old Palermo). Malabia 1555; tel. 54 11 4833 2410. www.malabiahouse.com.ar

Grand Boulevard Hotel - In the center of everything, this moderately priced hotel features a sweeping view of the historic obelisk. Thick windows block out the noise from the roaring traffic on Avenida 9 de Julio. Bernardo de Irigoyen 432; tel. 54 11 5222 9000. www.grandboulevardhotel.com

Castelar Hotel and Spa - Classic hotel with 151 rooms in the heart of downtown Buenos Aires opened in 1929, and was once frequented by writers such as Jorge Luis Borges and Spanish poet Federico García Lorca. Lots of dark wood, leather, and an old-style café take you back to another era. Avenida de Mayo 1152; tel. 54 11 4383 5000. www.castelarhotel.com.ar

248 Finisterra – Cool and inexpensive boutique hotel in the super-hot Palermo neighborhood of Las Cañitas. Its 11 rooms are small, but elegantly furnished, with dark wood furniture and lots of Argentine leather; some overlook the vine-covered garden. Rates include breakfast, but the best part is the location. Báez 248; tel. 54 11 4773 0901. www.248finisterra.com

Moreno Hotel - “Huge suites (up to 807 square feet [75 square meters]), the full gamut of gadgets (LCD TVs, fast Wi-Fi, etc.), and even a Berlin-in-the-’30s-style basement cabaret.”—Matt Chesterton. Thirty-nine “bedrooms” and lofts in a new boutique, art deco hotel in San Telmo. Onsite theater features tango and other live music. Moreno 376; tel. 54 11 6091 2000. www.morenobuenosaires.com

$$$ EXPENSIVE

Marriott Plaza Hotel – “The grand dame of the city’s grand old hotels. You can feel the history in the walls of the 99-year-old building.”—Brian Byrnes. The recently renovated Marriott and many of its 320 elegant rooms overlook the San Martin Plaza in Retiro. Florida 1005; tel. 54 11 4318 3000. www.marriott.com/hotels/travel/buear-marriott-plaza-hotel-buenos-aires/

Esplendor Boutique Hotel – “Sleekly designed…but warm and comfortable.”—Marcelo Ponozzo, co-editor, Guia Total Buenos Aires (Total Guide Buenos Aires). Classic French facade with a newly remodeled avant-garde interior; softly illuminated walls highlight local artists’ renderings of famous Argentines such as Evita Perón and Che Guevara. Features 51 rooms in a great downtown spot. San Martin 780; tel. 54 11 5256 8800. www.esplendorbuenosaires.com

Home – “The designer patio and garden is probably the best place for an al fresco aperitif in BA.”—Matt Chesterton. Each distinctly decorated room includes plush mattresses and iPod connectors. Outdoor pool, small spa, and Resto Bar; loads of hip restaurants, shops, and bars nearby. Honduras 5860; tel. 54 11 4778 1008. www.homebuenosaires.com

$$$$ LUXURY (Note: yes, these are muy muy caro, very expensive!)

Alvear Palace Hotel “It’s very classic, and it’s very close to everything in Recoleta.”—Michael Luongo, author, Frommer’s Buenos Aires. A gem in the heart of one of the most elite neighborhoods in Buenos Aires. Majestic lobby and immaculate 210 rooms—mostly newly remodeled suites—ooze Old World decadence. New, high-tech spa. Avenida Alvear 1891; tel. 54 11 4808 2100. www.alvearpalace.com

Faena Hotel and Universe - “You feel like you’re in the center of a parallel universe.”—Brian Byrnes, co-author, Fodor’s Buenos Aires. The beautiful and the famous like to see and be seen in this lush Puerto Madero hotel. French architect Phillipe Starck designs; lobby and room walls are lined with red velvet. The 110 rooms include great sunset views of the city, flat-screen televisions, and Egyptian cotton linens. Martha Salotti 445; tel. 54 11 4010 9000. www.faenahotelanduniverse.com

Four Seasons Hotel - “Those with a spare U.S. $10,000 should spend a couple of nights in the seven-suite mansion with its round-the-clock butler service.”—Matt Chesterton, editor, Time Out Buenos Aires guidebook. High-class, high-priced digs in a Belle Epoque mansion with 138 guestrooms and 27 suites in Recoleta. Posadas 1086; tel. 54 11 4321 1200. www.fourseasons.com/buenosaires/

One more – moderate:

Nuss Hotel is in Palermo on El Salvador 4916 – I met a pair of honeymooners here whom I was guiding to a milonga, and it did seem romantic; phone 4833-6222 or info@nusshotel.com – www.nusshotel.com

I’m running a series of posts of several authors’ Ten Rules for Writing Fiction. These rules were all published in an article in the Guardian, February, 2010. Can’t say I agree with all the rules, but it’s interesting to read—one writer’s bete noir is sometimes another’s signature prose. So don’t take them tooooo seriously:

Helen Dunmore (she only has 9 – the 1oth: never fake it)

1 Finish the day’s writing when you still want to continue.

2 Listen to what you have written. A dud rhythm in a passage of dialogue may show that you don’t yet understand the characters well enough to write in their voices.

3 Read Keats’s letters.

4 Reread, rewrite, reread, rewrite. If it still doesn’t work, throw it away. It’s a nice feeling, and you don’t want to be cluttered with the corpses of poems and stories which have everything in them except the life they need.

5 Learn poems by heart.

6 Join professional organisations which advance the collective rights of authors.

7 A problem with a piece of writing often clarifies itself if you go for a long walk.

8 If you fear that taking care of your children and household will damage your writing, think of JG Ballard.

9 Don’t worry about posterity – as Larkin (no sentimentalist) observed “What will survive of us is love.”

I’m running a series of posts of several authors’ Ten Rules for Writing Fiction. These rules were all published in an article in the Guardian, February, 2010. Can’t say I agree with all the rules, but it’s interesting to read—one writer’s bete noir is sometimes another’s signature prose. So don’t take them tooooo seriously:

Roddy Doyle

1 Do not place a photograph of your ¬favourite author on your desk, especially if the author is one of the famous ones who committed suicide.

2 Do be kind to yourself. Fill pages as quickly as possible; double space, or write on every second line. Regard every new page as a small triumph ¬–

3 Until you get to Page 50. Then calm down, and start worrying about the quality. Do feel anxiety – it’s the job.

4 Do give the work a name as quickly as possible. Own it, and see it. Dickens knew Bleak House was going to be called Bleak House before he started writing it. The rest must have been easy.

5 Do restrict your browsing to a few websites a day. Don’t go near the online bookies – unless it’s research.

6 Do keep a thesaurus, but in the shed at the back of the garden or behind the fridge, somewhere that demands travel or effort. Chances are the words that come into your head will do fine, eg “horse”, “ran”, “said”.

7 Do, occasionally, give in to temptation. Wash the kitchen floor, hang out the washing. It’s research.

8 Do change your mind. Good ideas are often murdered by better ones. I was working on a novel about a band called the Partitions. Then I decided to call them the Commitments.

9 Do not search amazon.co.uk for the book you haven’t written yet.

10 Do spend a few minutes a day working on the cover biog – “He divides his time between Kabul and Tierra del Fuego.” But then get back to work.

From National Geographic Traveler, October, 2010

NOW AND THEN, in Buenos Aires, I have the urge to rub against a man I’ve never met. When that occurs, I usually go to La Boca, the barrio that throbs with afterglow of Italian immigrants who poured brilliantly colored paints over their drab tenements in the early 20th century. This afternoon, I find my guy near El Caminito, a pedestrian way where the polychromatic huies are even louder than my pink high heels.READ MORE

Get Tango, Get Happy (forever)

(Continued from Get Tango, Get Happy, previous post)

Something is happening in South America. For some it is merely a dance that’s been around more than a hundred years. For others it is nothing short of a miracle. Take Patricia Frola, who hesitantly tried it and watched the tremors she had lived with for years vanish. She entered what she could only describe as a Flow.

Take Silvia Alfonso, whom I have never seen without a smile on her face. Once upon a time, she could not cross a city street without taxi drivers honking at her to speed it up, lady, get a move. Finally, she said, “I wished they’d just run me over and end my misery.” Then she, too, with grave doubts, accepted an invitation to try this common dance.

“I arrived at 4 p.m. and met Marisa Maragliano, the instructor. We just embraced and I felt the magic. She held me. Something wonderful happened. My mind told me you need a wheel chair, but my body just started dancing, responding to Marisa. I felt I was dividing into two, a mind and a body. I stopped feeling pain. I left my two canes and came away with two arms.”

You wouldn’t know it to see either of them, but Patricia has lived with Parkinson’s disease for seventeen years. And Silvia was stricken with rheumatoid arthritis in her 20s. She is now 56 but her smile is of the eternal sort.

Then there is Amia (who prefers I use a pseudonym), a young woman in her twenties, with silky black hair, a Spanish-speaking Cleopatra. One night at La Milonguita, she confessed, to my great surprise, to being bi-polar. She told me that dancing tango has greatly reduced her need for medication to treat her serious disorder. And there is Pedro, a Porteño (native of Buenos Aires), with a shimmer of white hair, who is never without a Kris Kringle sparkle in his pale blue eyes. Until he started tango regularly, about ten years ago, he was down and depressed always.

An ABC news show reports from an old church hall in Surry Hills, a suburb of Sydney, Australia. There Jackie Simpson, long-time tango teacher, watches her pupils arrive to overcome depression and grief. One of them says she had lost a son about two-and-a-half years before and although she had done a lot of grieving, “I wasn’t getting up and getting back into life that much.”

After one lesson at the old church that first night, “I got home and I just felt so energized and for the next two days I just felt so focused and things that I was just feeling that I was overwhelmed about before, I just had the energy to do.”

Like so many others who start tango, she reported, “feeling really at a deep place.” What is it about Argentina tango that stirs people so deeply?

Here is a list of attributes that define tango and that in sum make tango like no other dance, which may well account for the therapeutic benefits:

• Tango has a meditative quality The brain behaves in a similar way when dancing tango or in meditation.

• Tango requires, as in meditation, that you be fully present, moment to moment, and that you surrender your ego, and not think.

• In tango, the dance partners do not make eye contact Eyes are soft, turned inward (as in meditation).

• There is no speech in tango The partners are advised not to talk during the dance. However there is constant, even deeper, communication through the body.

• When this body communication is on track there is nothing in the world like the feeling you get. This does not occur in other dances.

• Tango is unique in its use of silence and pauses. It is said that in the silence of meditation, the place of no words, is where the mystery of life dwells. So tango touches life’s mystery.

• Tango’s simplicity rests in the fact that it consists of organic body movements – steps that are natural to our human body mechanics, such as walking, figure eights, pivots, being relaxed, going with the Flow.

• Tango has an ever-shifting sweet spot. This is true of most partner dances but in tango, you must be rigorously present, second to second, or you’ll miss it.

• Tango has a simple structure; it is not freeform. It is a discipline. As a discipline it is most often likened to a language. You learn a vocabulary of six steps, then go on to create your own (sentences) patterns, or figures.

• Tango, like any conversation, is improvisational; like fingerprints, no two dances are the same.

• The tango embrace is unique: It is soft and sliding, not firm and rigid, with a lot of compression, as in other partner dances.

• In tango, the leader’s and follower’s steps may be so different, as to be two different dances to the same music, yet they must be in sync with each other. Thus leaders may simply be called “starters” whose role blends into the dance, once initiated, so that there is no leader and follower, just a dance. This phenomenon is commonly called a tango moment. It is characterized by a sense of no bodies but a total presence.

• The very genetic material of tango carries the primal urge for love. The progenitors of tango were lonely and just wanted human contact, basic intimacy. And a little fun in getting it.

• Tango is best learned, in the truest Zen sense an “unlearning” of those habits that are in your way, such as thinking too much, anticipating the next move, wanting to look a certain way to others, intellectualizing what is happening. Remove these and tango is there. I promise. Not only that—but something else, too, is there.

• The breath in tango, as in yoga, is closely allied with the axis or spine. No one has ever named it such, but perhaps there is a tango kundalini, that serpent which yoga breathing (called pranayama) activates, its tail and mouth meeting to form an endless circle around the first chakra and embracing all seven chakras.

• The music in tango has a primordial aspect. The bandoneon, sine qua non of tango music, is the concertina-like instrument that is likened to the human lungs. It is said to moan, groan, wail. And there are often violins, which may be like our larynx or voice box, whining, crying. Traditional tango music often has no beat or tempo. But there is a rhythm and melody.

• Tango is child’s play. You go round and round in circles, make “sandwiches,” with your feets (yes feets!), and on a whim do a parada (a stop), and the sacada, or invading of your partner’s space, is a playful, healthy way to wage war (between the sexes, in this case). Tango is a contact sport.

• For all its inner game, no-speak, no-think aspect, tango is a natural communal, social, organized discipline or practice. Just sit in any milonga and let your focus roam along three levels: the individual, the couple as a unit, and the line of dance as a whole. The laws of physics are never posted, but they are implicitly obeyed. The people, like atoms, move in circular, linear, and webular patterns or orbits; they bond as molecules; and, in the line of dance, they all blend into one cohesive delicious, delightful, magical, morphing, dynamic compound.

Let me know if you want to be notified when this book comes out: ocaramia@mac.com.

I’m running a series of posts of several authors’ Ten Rules for Writing Fiction. These rules were all published in an article in the Guardian, February, 2010. Can’t say I agree with all the rules, but it’s interesting to read—one writer’s bete noir is sometimes another’s signature prose. So don’t take them tooooo seriously:

Jonathan Franzen

1 The reader is a friend, not an adversary, not a spectator.

2 Fiction that isn’t an author’s personal adventure into the frightening or the unknown isn’t worth writing for anything but money.

3 Never use the word “then” as a ¬conjunction – we have “and” for this purpose. Substituting “then” is the lazy or tone-deaf writer’s non-solution to the problem of too many “ands” on the page.

4 Write in the third person unless a ¬really distinctive first-person voice ¬offers itself irresistibly.

5 When information becomes free and universally accessible, voluminous research for a novel is devalued along with it.

6 The most purely autobiographical ¬fiction requires pure invention. Nobody ever wrote a more auto¬biographical story than “The Meta¬morphosis”.

7 You see more sitting still than chasing after.

8 It’s doubtful that anyone with an internet connection at his workplace is writing good fiction.

9 Interesting verbs are seldom very interesting.

10 You have to love before you can be relentless.

I’m running a series of posts of several authors’ Ten Rules for Writing Fiction. These rules were all published in an article in the Guardian, February, 2010. Can’t say I agree with all the rules, but it’s interesting to read—one writer’s bete noir is sometimes another’s signature prose. So don’t take them tooooo seriously:

Richard Ford

1 Marry somebody you love and who thinks you being a writer’s a good idea.

2 Don’t have children.

3 Don’t read your reviews.

4 Don’t write reviews. (Your judgment’s always tainted.)

5 Don’t have arguments with your wife in the morning, or late at night.

6 Don’t drink and write at the same time.

7 Don’t write letters to the editor. (No one cares.)

8 Don’t wish ill on your colleagues.

9 Try to think of others’ good luck as encouragement to yourself.

10 Don’t take any shit if you can ¬possibly help it.

GET TANGO, GET HAPPY

Upcoming book By Camille Cusumano

Overview

I went to Buenos Aires in 2006 to stay for two months and get over a broken heart. I ended up staying three years. I found that tango, the way the Argentines do it, heart to heart, was the best therapy in the world. It was like finding the Holy Grail. Tango made me happy. It changed my life forever. I found joy in day-to-day living. Even when things go wrong, I now know there is a “dance step” to improvise to the music. Despite what you may have heard about tango being “a sad feeling that can be danced,” it is a lovely, sensual dance that you cannot do without smiling. I have taught tango to curious friends, to residents in a psychiatric ward in Buenos Aires, to seniors in Calif., to my mother in rehab after breaking her shinbone. Tango is tonic for suffering, mental and physical. I’ve marveled at its subtle, miraculous healing power. Some say it’s in the embrace. Perhaps that is so—after all, this is a dance that raises the common hug to an art form. But there is also the music and the excitement of stepping in time with another to it, and many other intrinsic aspects that make it like no other dance.

I have attended the annual Conference on Tango Therapy in Argentina and met heart doctors, psychologists, nurses, physical therapists, and sexologists who use tango to improve the lives of cardiac patients, to lessen the meds needed for bi-polar disorder, to help troubled couples, to restore balance to those with Parkinson’s or arthritis, and to bring equanimity and confidence to patients with Alzheimer’s. I watched developmentally disabled adults learn tango like nobody’s business. It made me cry. Researchers in North America (at Washington University and McGill) have performed controlled studies to show that Argentine tango (not to be confused with the ballroom dance, American tango) is even better than foxtrot and Tai Chi for all the above. I don’t need the science; I am the evidence. I continue to dance, to bring tango to seniors who are alone, to anyone interested, who believes happiness resides within—and that we’re only dancing on this earth for a short time.

In this book, I’ll tell you more moving stories about many others whose lives have been transformed by tango. I’ll tell you how to get tango into your life. Once you are into tango, inside the sensuality and bliss of it, I’ll talk you through the tender embryonic stages when you are most vulnerable. It can be scary, the intimacy of it. I’ll share my not-so-hidden secrets about the dance. That is to say, everything I know and learned about tango was always right in front of me. And it’ll be right in front of you.

Tango therapy works!

Let me know if you want to be notified when this book is out. Watch for more previews. Next post on Get Tango, Get Happy, here.

From Texas Journey, New Mexico Journey, Alabama Journey, and Westways, Jul/Aug, 2010 -   No clocks grace the belle epoque walls of Niño Bien, a salon in Buenos Aires where I have danced tango for the past three years. I can’t be late for my next date this Saturday night—across town at another old dance hall—but not to worry. I’ve learned to track time in Argentina by the tanda, a series of three or four like-themed tangos that you dance with the same person, lasting about 15 minutes altogether. READ MORE.

Neil Gaiman, author, Neverwhere and American Gods

1 Write.

2 Put one word after another. Find the right word, put it down.

3 Finish what you’re writing. Whatever you have to do to finish it, finish it.

4 Put it aside. Read it pretending you’ve never read it before. Show it to friends whose opinion you respect and who like the kind of thing that this is.

5 Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what they think is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.

6 Fix it. Remember that, sooner or later, before it ever reaches perfection, you will have to let it go and move on and start to write the next thing. Perfection is like chasing the horizon. Keep moving.

7 Laugh at your own jokes.

8 The main rule of writing is that if you do it with enough assurance and confidence, you’re allowed to do whatever you like. (That may be a rule for life as well as for writing. But it’s definitely true for writing.) So write your story as it needs to be written. Write it ¬honestly, and tell it as best you can. I’m not sure that there are any other rules. Not ones that matter.

9 Never complain of being misunderstood. You can choose to be understood, or you can choose not to.

10 The two most depressing words in the English language are “literary fiction”.

David Hare, playwright, The Vertical Hour

1 Write only when you have something to say.

2 Never take advice from anyone with no investment in the outcome.

3 Style is the art of getting yourself out of the way, not putting yourself in it.

4 If nobody will put your play on, put it on yourself.

5 Jokes are like hands and feet for a painter. They may not be what you want to end up doing but you have to master them in the meanwhile.

6 Theatre primarily belongs to the young.

7 No one has ever achieved consistency as a screenwriter.

8 Never go to a TV personality festival masquerading as a literary festival.

9 Never complain of being misunderstood. You can choose to be understood, or you can choose not to.

10 The two most depressing words in the English language are “literary fiction”.

I’m running a series of posts of several authors’ Ten Rules for Writing Fiction. These rules were all published in an article in the Guardian, February, 2010. Can’t say I agree with all the rules, but it’s interesting to read—one writer’s bete noir is sometimes another’s signature prose. So don’t take them tooooo seriously:

Here’s Al – like his rules a lot.

AL Kennedy

1 Have humility. Older/more ¬experienced/more convincing writers may offer rules and varieties of advice. ¬Consider what they say. However, don’t automatically give them charge of your brain, or anything else – they might be bitter, twisted, burned-out, manipulative, or just not very like you.

2 Have more humility. Remember you don’t know the limits of your own abilities. Successful or not, if you keep pushing beyond yourself, you will enrich your own life – and maybe even please a few strangers.

3 Defend others. You can, of course, steal stories and attributes from family and friends, fill in filecards after lovemaking and so forth. It might be better to celebrate those you love – and love itself – by writing in such a way that everyone keeps their privacy and dignity intact.

4 Defend your work. Organisations, institutions and individuals will often think they know best about your work – especially if they are paying you. When you genuinely believe their decisions would damage your work – walk away. Run away. The money doesn’t matter that much.

5 Defend yourself. Find out what keeps you happy, motivated and creative.

6 Write. No amount of self-inflicted misery, altered states, black pullovers or being publicly obnoxious will ever add up to your being a writer. Writers write. On you go.

7 Read. As much as you can. As deeply and widely and nourishingly and ¬irritatingly as you can. And the good things will make you remember them, so you won’t need to take notes.

8 Be without fear. This is impossible, but let the small fears drive your rewriting and set aside the large ones ¬until they behave – then use them, maybe even write them. Too much fear and all you’ll get is silence.

9 Remember you love writing. It wouldn’t be worth it if you didn’t. If the love fades, do what you need to and get it back.

10 Remember writing doesn’t love you. It doesn’t care. Nevertheless, it can behave with remarkable generosity. Speak well of it, encourage others, pass it on.

I’m running a series of posts of several authors’ Ten Rules for Writing Fiction. These rules were all published in an article in the Guardian, February, 2010. Can’t say I agree with all the rules, but it’s interesting to read—one writer’s bete noir is sometimes another’s signature prose. So don’t take them tooooo seriously:

Margaret Atwood

1 Take a pencil to write with on aeroplanes. Pens leak. But if the pencil breaks, you can’t sharpen it on the plane, because you can’t take knives with you. Therefore: take two pencils.

2 If both pencils break, you can do a rough sharpening job with a nail file of the metal or glass type.

3 Take something to write on. Paper is good. In a pinch, pieces of wood or your arm will do.

4 If you’re using a computer, always safeguard new text with a ¬memory stick.

5 Do back exercises. Pain is distracting.

6 Hold the reader’s attention. (This is likely to work better if you can hold your own.) But you don’t know who the reader is, so it’s like shooting fish with a slingshot in the dark. What ¬fascinates A will bore the pants off B.

7 You most likely need a thesaurus, a rudimentary grammar book, and a grip on reality. This latter means: there’s no free lunch. Writing is work. It’s also gambling. You don’t get a pension plan. Other people can help you a bit, but ¬essentially you’re on your own. ¬Nobody is making you do this: you chose it, so don’t whine.

8 You can never read your own book with the innocent anticipation that comes with that first delicious page of a new book, because you wrote the thing. You’ve been backstage. You’ve seen how the rabbits were smuggled into the hat. Therefore ask a reading friend or two to look at it before you give it to anyone in the publishing business. This friend should not be someone with whom you have a ¬romantic relationship, unless you want to break up.

9 Don’t sit down in the middle of the woods. If you’re lost in the plot or blocked, retrace your steps to where you went wrong. Then take the other road. And/or change the person. Change the tense. Change the opening page.

10 Prayer might work. Or reading ¬something else. Or a constant visual¬isation of the holy grail that is the finished, published version of your resplendent book.

World Peace Begins at Home

Excerpts from  Tango, an Argentine Love Story (Seal Press) showing its peace-promoting tendency and why it is not macho:

From “Goddess of the Tango Galaxy”
“I watch both the men’s and women’s feet do adornos, or adornments, the decorative punctuation in a tango sentence. I watch and learn, taking notes on ones I like enough to incorporate as my own. The best male dancers can trace lápices (literally “pencils”), or circles, with the balls of their feet as they turn the follower, all in fluid, seamless motion. I take ceaseless pleasure in watching the men of this so-called “macho” culture show their feminine side in the way they move their bodies. The women do quick amagues (nervous clicks), amazing deft footwork in those spike heels, and high and low voleos that show off their legs and sometimes their thighs.
There is incredible competition in tango, but I am never jealous of other dancers. Never threatened. This is my other deep dark secret-my good secret-that I have never shared with anyone. I am nameless and faceless, but nobody can touch me in tango. When I step onto the floor, I go from broken to whole, from a flimsy self-confidence to a self-assurance of steel. Off the floor I am an average-pretty woman, in good shape. On the floor, I am a goddess. Soy la diosa de esta jodida galaxia.”

•••••••••

” . . . Agosto executes a move called sacada, and I respond with the slackness of a Hacky Sack, which lets my legs fly in a pretty arc. Then I reclaim my muscle tone to keep my balance. It’s a follower’s challenge, this switching on and off of your muscles, perhaps in a thousand cycles a minute in response to the leader, who must also switch on and off, allowing you space to receive his energy. This multitasking occurs so seamlessly and automatically if you bring to the tango partnership complete presence minus willfulness-the exact sort of detachment I want so badly in the rest of my life.”

•••••••

From “Accidental Tanguera”
“. . . My own attraction to these two seemingly unrelated practices [tango and Zen] seemed to unfold before me over the course of the lecture. Reb continued, “We need to train in movement and stillness to enter realization,” which affirmed my gravitating more and more to tango. “When you sit in meditation,” he pointed out, “you learn to do so with no expectation. To sit still with no anticipation, with no plan. This is exactly what seems to be the case in tango.” My mind clicked with how Zen, which drew from my masculine energy-the discipline, stoicism, and restraint that both my parents gave me-was already merging in a happy marriage with my tango, the feminine energy awarded me by those same parents who knew there was a time to drop work and indulge their bacchanalian love of dancing.”

•••••••

From “El Principe Azul”

“It’s September now, and the evenings are still cold. This would be the warmest time of year back home, but Argentina is coming out of its winter into spring. Off I go prowling for good dance partners at Club Gricel. I enter the warmly lit dance hall, a bit timid of the social scene, but confident in my dance skills. One of the hosts, Patricio, seats me in the women’s section-near my power pillar. It’s unfortunate that I never got used to contact lenses. I have to keep my glasses on to scan the men’s section as I wait for one of them to cabeaceo me—to make an eye-lock with head nod, the requisite body-language invitation to dance, a venerable custom among many here in Argentina. The cabeaceo always recalls the Zen saying, “Don’t just do something, sit there.” I love the idea of just sitting here and taking what’s offered.
I hear complaints from both men and women about the unfairness of the custom of waiting for the man to nod his head. I don’t mind it, though, because the women, in fact, have the power to say no. And we have the option to turn our visage on a man and raise our eyebrows-please cabeaceo me. No one save the two having done the interaction will know whether he resists. Call it sexist, but for me it is grand theater, one that goes with my tango wardrobe of beaded, frilly, sequined, see-through gossamer and my painted face and nails. It is a chance to partake of this macho culture on its terms and its turf. I never forget that I am a guest in their country.
For the Argentines, who have witnessed terrible human rights abuses, I sense there is a consensus to keep sacred something that is theirs and that is venerable. The cabeaceo is a ritual that clearly evolved from olden days. It evokes a scene, say, in a La Boca conventillo, a man and woman peering at each other across a doorway or a window sill, using just their eyes to set up a meeting. For me the cabeaceo is full of buena onda-good vibes. And as a non-verbal cue, it is fitting, because, unlike with most other dances, you never talk during tango, which would be redundant, because the dance is a dialogue.”

•••••••

From “Accidental Tanguera”
“In “Exploring the Dance of Buddha,” Reb Anderson said, “I must not keep standing where I have skill.” I am starting to run up against the fact that I’m going to have to eventually move out of the comfort zone I’m in with my dance. I’ve been content being the dancer in the plain brown wrapper-a generically good milonguera, sometimes better than the fancy packaged “brand name” goods. My confidence has grown immensely. I dance tall on the balls of my feet. I only drop my heels to walk to and from my seat. I keep my axis. My legions of anonymous soldiers on the floors around town aid and abet this. My sensitivity gets sharper all the time. I refine my ranks of leaders. I’ve weeded out those who engage in the old style of leading whereby the man pokes and prods the follower’s back with his fingers. It feels like they’re tapping out Morse code, and it’s distracting from the heart-connection lead, not to mention irritating. At first I try talking nice, “Señor, por favor, no me gusta este tipo de marca,” (“Sir, I don’t like that type of lead”). I’d say I have a 50 percent success rate. I avoid those who don’t get it.
I drop leaders who embody the obnoxious view of Ricardo Guirlandes that women are “obedient beasts” who submit. This is passé violence. Such perverted views of my powerful receptive female energy demand that I drop leaders who emit any energy like this, not because they are bad or I don’t like them, but because the dance asks me to. I am a faceless warrior in its defense. As the embodiment of the feminine energy that receives and gives back to the male impetus, I feel sovereign. It is not a passive role.
I aim to dance tango without borders, but not without discrimination. Rodolfo is a man who remains a friend whom I hug and kiss warmly when we see each other, but whom I will not dance with because of his whipping lead. He lost six apartments in the 2001 financial crisis and is full of sadness and disillusion, but I’m not dissuaded from my decision. Another man in a class means to compliment me when he says, “You obey well.” I laugh sardonically, but he’s a nonnative English speaker, so I let him get away with the perhaps unintended insult. A male friend who’s a good dancer says to me, meaning to praise a woman he dances with, “She was great, she went everywhere I put her.” When he is ready to hear it, I would like to tell him that when he exchanges “put” for “invited,” I’ll know he’s moving toward greatness.
And then there are los fantásticos. Or the divinos milongueros-like Rufino. At Salon Canning, Rufino steals up behind me. It must have been his smile beating on my back like sunshine that made me turn. It was a tanda by Juan D’Arienzo, a composer with a lot of compás, or rhythmic beat, which Rufino likes. As we dance, he says, “¡Qué espectacular!” several times. He tells me he’s been watching and waiting for me to be available. He looks like a young Richard Gere, only more handsome and tender. A contractor who’s been renovating an old building in Palermo, Rufino has a lean and athletic body. I’m not being modest when I say that if he saw me sitting in a café, he wouldn’t look twice. But he loves the way I move. Like me, he adores the dance. He tells me that he dances with emotion and excitement, and that I know how to respond to him. Another dancer bumps us. Rufino stops, stands still, and enfolds his arms and hands gently around me as if protecting a bouquet of fresh flowers. How life-affirming is this? I think to myself. Deeply so. These are the moments I feel I have not lost anything.
I have no need to be Rufino’s one and only. (The “palace” door is locked anyway, closed for renovation.) He is free to say everything he says to me to others. I don’t try to imagine that he doesn’t, and actually I hope he does. Tonight, however, I notice that he leaves the milonga after having danced with only me.”

••••••••
End of excerpts – copyright 2008 Camille Cusumano All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by reviewers who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review.

Published by Seal Press, a member of Perseus Books Group, 1700 Fourth Street, Berkeley, CA 94710, (510) 595-4228.

THESE TRIPS WERE GREAT -THE JACARANDA WAS LIKE PURPLE NEON. CHECK BACK IN A MONTH FOR TRIPS IN  2011.

Trip the lights fantastic in Paris of South America

November is spring in Buenos Aires. The broad-canopied jacaranda trees burst into magnificent bloom, carpeting streets, parks, and plazas, in glowing lavender blossoms. The city called “Paris of South America,” for its European culture and spectacular French & Italian Renaissance architecture, never looks finer. The weather is warm and lovely then. This  nine-day trip includes a fun side trip to nearby gaucho country and plenty of time in Buenos Aires, the city that never sleeps.

WHEN: November 5 to November 13, 2010 – Price $1,775, or $1,275 for doubles (rooms have twin or double beds).

Trip #1 includes all this (click here).

Trip #2, very similar, runs November 16 to 24, 2010 and is ALL Buenos Aires.

Reserve with $500 or Pay in full. If you want to pay by check, email me for the address: ocaramia@earthlink.net or ocaramia@mac.com.

Trips #1 or #2

Reserve $500.00 In full (double) $1,275.00 In full (single) $1,775.00

OPTIONAL EXTRAS:

• I’ll arrange your airport (Ezeiza) pickup and dropoff ground transportation with a bilingual driver—$70 total.

• If you’d like to take the writing workshops and the yoga or get an extra tango lesson – we can arrange both for nominal fees.

WATCH A COOL VIDEO OF MY TANGO DAYS IN  BUENOS AIRES

ANOTHER COOL VIDEO OF BUENOS AIRES IN THE EARLY 1900S

• If you’d like to do some horse riding in San Antonia de Areco, it can be arranged for a nominal fee.

• If you’d like Spanish lessons, private classes are very affordable; I can arrange them for you with great teachers.

• My first days in Buenos Aires I hired an occasional “taxi” dancer (for a nominal fee) to accompany me to tango dance halls and dance with me only. If you’d like, we can arrange that–for either men or women.

• It’s good to arrive at least a day before the trip starts–and consider staying longer than 9 days. If you want other lodging options, I’ll give you a list, once you’re a registered participant.

• If you are interested in side trips around Argentina (or anywhere in South America) I can refer you to two reliable local travel agents (from whom I accept no commission) to put together a trip for you.