One Upon a Time in Athens...

This is the story of how I stepped into the garden of tango and fell down the rabbit hole. Tango is one of those dance I had always wanted to take up but always made excuses. In my prudish days, I was too timid to dance that close to a man. Then I convinced myself that girls from the East couldn't dance a dance from the West. Then is was lack of time, then, then, then.

I had decided for certain that I wanted to learn after a tango exhibition in Athens 3 years ago. It wasn't the dancers on stage that melted my heart. While the exhibition was going on, a couple in their ordinary clothes broke away from the crowd and began to tango. They looked so happy and blissful, and the chemistry between them crackled off the scale. It was like watching a new language rather than speaking it. I wanted to learn this!

Finally the 5th of October 2009 came around, the day tango well and truly bit my ass. I went along to a local school to try out a class. It went well. The next few classes went equally well. I was enjoying learning something new, enjoying the exercise and spending one hour not thinking about the real life.

And then, slowly, without me noticing at first, it happened. Drop by drop, like a glass filling up, I found myself thinking about tango all the time. I dreamt about it, I read about it obsessively, I became a maniac. It's like falling in love. I spend my days like a feverish lunatic trying to walk correctly up and down supermarket isles, in my living room, doing weight changes at the bus stop. I want to dance every time I hear anything that could pass for a tango. I wonder, if I had known I would go so crazy for it, would I have taken that first step?

I have fallen absolutely and hopelessly in love with this dance after just one month and it's taking over my life! This is why I started this blog, because everyone is starting to get sick about me talking about tango. My drug is the dream-like sensation I feel on the (very rare) occassions when I manage to execute a good tango. I don't want to be technically perfect, I just find myself chasing that rare sensation all the time. On the days of my lessons, I can't wait for my working day to be over to go to class. When it's over, I feel gloomy at the prospect of all the days I have to get through before I get to go again.

Oh, tango, more addictive than cocaine! I love you! Welcome to my life!