The Meaning of Tango...? (Helsinki)

Back in Helsinki, at the Vuosaari Harbour.

Although fully aware of how preposterous the heading sounds, after much contemplation I have decided it is the most appropriate for what I will attempt to discuss in this entry that will mark the end of this journey with tango. In effect, the big questions that I have been trying to answer during the past weeks, indeed, during the trip too, remain the same: what is it that tango means to me, why does it occupy such a special, central stage in my life, and what is it that I am trying to achieve with it?

Before getting into that, I suppose it would be good to tell you something about the final stage of this 'Travels with Tango Tour'. The two-night, one day sea journey from Rostock was very pleasant, with lovely sunny weather, beautiful views over the calm waters of the Baltic Sea, and long, winding conversations with Meeri, a Finnish lady who I was sharing the cabin with. Before I knew it, the trip was over and the ferry arrived in the Vuosaari Harbour in Helsinki. There, I was slightly delayed by Meeri's car that refused to start, as and I stayed with her in the by-now empty dockyard until the towaway truck arrived a couple of hours later (so much for Finnish efficiency! ;-). Afterwards, I cycled the remaining 10 or so km to Helsinki city centre, had coffee in my favourite cafe watching the world go by, saw a friend... and ended up working the evening shift in the seaside cafe that I sometimes help out at! I did not even have time to take the luggage home, just dumped the bags at my Auntie's who lives close by, and went to work. In a way, it was a perfect way to come home, as I literally hit the ground running.

Having a coffee at Cafe Esplanade, my favourite hangout in downtown Helsinki. 

Since then, however, things have slowed down considerably. I have spent this week since returning home trying to find my feet, or to be more precise, trying to remember what exactly it was that I used to do with my life before the trip. To feel at home, I have done the things I always think about when abroad: I have gone on a picnic (twice!) on my favourite island, seen my parents along with some other relatives, done some gardening at my Dad's place (the house where I was briefly living last year), read the newspaper at great length and detail on most mornings, cycled around Helsinki a few times, seen many of my closest friends, decorated my balcony by planting flowers and herbs... Still, I am sad to report that I feel out of place, out of sync, more than a little bit lost here. To be brutally honest, I find myself questioning the rationale of coming back. What was it that seemed to important that I decided to turn this way in Prague, instead of carrying on towards the South, as I could have just as easily done?

I suppose it is only natural that after such intense, physically, mentally and emotionally charged weeks that I had during the trip, the so called  'normal' life would seem almost like a disappointment. Just the sudden reduction in physical activity (after all, I was cycling between 6 and 10 hours on most days for almost 2 months!) is enough to make one feel frustrated. To remedy this, I have done a couple of longer biking trips, but at 3 hours they are still a far cry from what my mind and body got used to. However, I am confident that it will not take long for this effect to fade!

Dancers at the Thursday night milonga in El Almacen. 

Still, I think that the most difficult thing to adjust to is the sudden, dramatic cutback on tango. During the trip, there were hardly ever more than 3 nights without a milonga (and that only because I was cycling), while here I am having to settle for only one milonga a week, with very limited number of dancers (most of whom are followers too, meaning that one does not get to dance that much). Naturally, I went there last Thursday, but quickly noticed that what had felt like such an exhilarating, exciting experience before the trip, now seemed a bit of a let-down. True, due to the holiday season there were fewer people than usual, and because of the simmering heat the floor was actually sticky from sweat (this does happen occasionally in Finland too!), so I suppose I should not draw too hasty conclusions. But the fact remains that during the trip I was spoiled with good leaders, beautiful venues (mostly with excellent floors too), inspiring DJ's and, most importantly, the sense of discovery that always makes dancing in a new milonga such a thrill. It is very easy to get used to such conditions, and I doubt ANY city, if one were to stay long enough, would continue providing that sensation for very long (although Berlin might come close..?).

Fínally, this brings me to the heading of this post. What is it exactly that I am looking for in Tango? Why do I feel let down when dancing here, while it is certainly the same dance, the same moves, the same music as everywhere else? I think it has got to do with how I feel about myself while dancing, and how I think others see me. During the trip, I felt free of many of the social pressures (however subtle and hidden) that govern most situations where people frequently come together. I did not need to impress, worry about appearances (at least not too much!) or about whether I conformed with the conventions, I did not even worry too much about my skills or the lack thereof. I knew I was only passing through each city, and no matter how badly I might blow it on the dance floor, it did not bother me as I would probably never see those particular people again. As a result, I think I danced with more abandon, more concentration, more devotion than I can here. And as a result, I enjoyed it a lot more than when dancing in this city where I know I will be seeing these people from one week to the next, until one of us decided to move... Isn't that what they always say, that one should dance as if nobody was watching? In a way, I think that was what I was doing, at least on my best nights, during the trip.

More importantly, however, I could also feel a deeper understanding and connection when dancing with many of the leaders during the trip than I find when dancing with fellow Finns. Who knows, maybe when tango itself is the main language that dancing partners 'speak', it liberates us from trying to establish other means of understanding each other? Maybe not  being able to talk the same mother tongue forces one to look for communication through movement? And try as hard as we may, we cannot really lie with our bodies. We either listen to, follow and compliment our dancing partner's movements, or we disregard, contradict and override them. Either way, both partners (and the eventual spectators too) can sense it, as no amount of bravado, flashy movements and sudden twists can hide it. This inbuilt honesty generates the magical, immensely gratifying and precious sensation that for me is the key component of tango's lure.

But this is not all, as tango is also a very honest mirror of ourselves. I suppose everybody has got their own stumbling blocks in tango, and as anyone who has ever danced with me knows (and many of the readers of this blog have! :-), mine is in maintaining my balance when dancing in the so-called close embrace. Despite being quite confident in dancing salsa or other fast moving dances in high heels, I am finding it really hard to keep an upright but relaxed posture when coming to the intimate, close-together contact of the traditional tango embrace. Instead, my posture is easily tipped forwards, as I am abandoning my own axis while leaning too much on my dancing partner. Having given it a lot of thought, I have come to realise that this problem is actually an apt allegory for my personality in general. No matter how independent, upright and confident I am when alone, I am finding it very hard to maintain that same integrity when becoming intimately involved with someone. Thus, in seeking emotional connection I am often making the other person feel like I am placing too much weight on their shoulders.

Naturally, the same goes also for the more positive aspects of my dancing: as I am a sensitive, sensual and expressive person, so is my way to tango. As I enjoy the emotional, melancholy, even dramatic aspects of life the most, so I get the greatest pleasure from dancing tangos with such components. And as the constant interplay of changing tempo, rhytm and melody is what makes a truly beautiful tango to me, I also feel the happiest when my life follows such unexpected patterns. I wonder if everybody's way to tango is linked as directly to their personality? Probably yes.

With these lines, it is time to put an end to this blog, at least for now. I feel very lucky for having had the opportunity to tango my way through the past weeks, and to share this journey with you, my Dear Friends. I hope the blog, or at least some part of it, has given you even a fraction of the joy and happiness that writing it has given to me. Knowing that someone, somewhere was reading about my thoughts and experiences was a great help during the more difficult moments, and more than doubled the joy of the positive times. I am already planning my next bike tour with tango, and will be inviting you to accompany me then too. Who knows, maybe we'll tango together even before that?

With Love,
Mari