A (temporary?) setback (Prague)

Well. It was supposed to happen at some point of this trip, as it always does. One morning, I just wake up and realise that the honeymoon is over, that travelling with all its associated hassles is starting to get on my nerves. That despite the sense of immediate purpose that sorting out those ever-present issues of food, lodging, route, companionship etc gives me, in the end, the big questions remain. What am I doing here? What is my role in the society? Where do I belong? On all of my journeys, this point has been reached, but perhaps this time, with tango to keep me motivated, I had assumed I could avoid it.

As it turns out, even tango isn't a strong enough deterrent for the bite of reality. This time around, I think what did the trick for me was the 7-day long approach to Prague, the exhausting days of pedalling from dawn till dusk, and lastly, the frights I had in traffic on that final day. All of a sudden, my moods changed and I am having to fight for a positive outlook on it all.

Unfortunately, the first aspect of the trip to feel the effects of this change of heart is the most important one: my tango. For some reason, even the three days of admittedly very well-organised milongas of the Tango Alchemie Festival failed to lift my spirits. As opposed to all those milongas along the way when dancing with complete strangers had felt like such a healing, reassuring and comforting thing, this time I felt like an outsider. As a matter of fact, it was almost as if a bubble had burst, and all of a sudden I saw myself in a new light.

Now, let me try to explain myself. Although there were so many people in the milongas, it quickly became evident that unless one was a) a very good dancer b) extremely good-looking or c) in her early twenties and wearing a skimpy dress, (or preferably, all three!) most of the time would be spent watching others dance, and not being asked to dance. Not the most uplifting feeling, especially when one is alone and doesn't know anybody, and especially because dancing really is the reason why we all had gathered there!

In the course of the festival, I met a few other Finns, and except for the one (quite advanced dancer and very attractive young) lady all had the same experience: Watching the dance floor full of couples, the very good leaders having their pick of very good followers, while one only gets asked by leaders who have little clue of following the music or leading in a coherent way, makes one painfully aware of the cruelty of the game. In some way, it reminds one of the days at school when sports teams were made up by the team leaders having their pick of the preferred team members. Obviously, the ones who were not picked in the beginning will in the end be reluctantly chosen in one of the teams, but by then, it has become quite clear who it is that everybody wants on their side...

It is certainly perfectly understandable that in the face of such abundance of choice, any good dancer would choose somebody at (or above) their own level. At any other time of my trip, I think I would not have minded this too much, but as my moods were getting blue anyway, the situation quickly started to get on my nerves (and, more importantly,on my confidence). Being forced to wait to be asked (this is the name of the game here, you should see how men look at the women who ask them to dance!), trying to look enthusiastic but not too eager, not letting the irritation show as the evening progressed and still one had not had one good dance... well, for someone with my (lack of) patience, it can be really trying!

I did go to all the milongas and danced a fair bit, and obviously, it wasn"t all bad. Even went to the "after-milonga" that took place in the hotel where most of the participants were staying on Saturday night, meaning that at 6 am (!!) the dance floor was still packed with couples. However,  the physical exhaustion (on top of the cycling, I did not sleep more than a few hours on the first night, and its effects could be felt for the rest of the time), the sense of being "left out" (by whom, I don't know?), of not belonging, of not being good enough, all combined to make it a bit of a disappointment. Nothing that would change my view of tango or what it means to me, but perhaps a welcome reminder of the realities that are at play.

In the end, I am just an absolute beginner in this dance, and although on a good day I can follow and enjoy dancing with quite advanced leaders, it is still a long way before I can call myself a tanguero. I am sure everybody gets these slumps at times, and we all need to deal with them to our best ability. 

Tomorrow, I will be getting back on my bike, this time heading North for the first time on this trip. It is my intention to make the journey to Dresden in two days, which, following the river Vltava most of the way, should keep me safe from the crazy traffic and any extreme uphills. From there on, I am planning to head to Berlin. Hopefully, by the time I get there, I will have regained at least a part of my self-confidence!