Mari Travels with Tango

"Punishment causes organisms to close themselves in, freezing and withdrawing themselves from the environment. Reward causes organisms to open themselves up and out towards their surroundings, approaching it, searching it, and by doing so increasing both their opportunity of survival and their vulnerability." This quotation, from an inspiring and challenging book I brought along on this trip to Istanbul (The Feeling of What Happens; Body, emotion and consciousness. by Antonio Damasio ), seems to me a perfect metaphor for what tango is and means to me. I am here for yet another festival, The Istanbul Tango Ritual, and have spent the past four days shamelessly indulging myself in the pleasures of tango travel. As this time there are no daytime milongas while the evening ones carry on until 5 am, I have let myself be seduced into an inversed daily cycle of going to bed at 5.30 am and sleeping well into the afternoon, even early evening. Besides dancing my feet off, I ...

After a couple of months of more or less stationary life, I am back on the tango road. True, I did go to Sun Tango Festival in Latvia in August, as well as the World of Tango Festival in Tampere, but somehow they seemed so close to home that I did not get that real tango-travelling feeling until arriving here yesterday afternoon. The months since returning from Paris have passed by in a kind of a haze, partly because I have made some pretty big changes to my life. Having decided to move on from the responsible travel work that I have been involved with for the past 8 years, I have now completed my final commitments in that field, and essentially, am now free to decide what to do with the rest of my life. It is an exhilarating feeling, knowing that one gets to choose again (and again and again). Of course, in a way it is also frightening, not knowing what you are supposed to do, but mostly I just find it extremely liberating. Having gained even more free time than I already had in m...

Re-united with my Finnish Tango Friends :-) As so often, after weeks of constant change and variety while travelling, the return to 'normal life' has happened so fast that I have barely been able to keep up. The 29-hour boat trip, by now such a familiar part of the homeward journey, slid by almost without notice, and before I understood it, I was back on the home soil. Riding out of the Vuosaari Harbour, a little outside of Helsinki city centre, it was all so familiar that I could have done it with my eyes closed. To prolong the inevitable, I spent a couple of hours riding around the city, having too many cups of coffee in my favourite cafés and reading the wonderful book that I had purchased for the boat trip (The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafón). It was a wonderful, sunny morning, and my home town showed itself at its best. Listening to the sea gulls, the wind and the familiar language, it took only a couple of hours to feel as if I'd never been ...

As so often at this stage of an eventful and emotionally charged journey, today I found myself in quite an emotional state of mind. I woke up to a beautiful sunshine, which together with a well-slept night and a delicious breakfast contributed to a general sense of wellbeing that carried on all through the day. As there was essentially nothing I had to get done, I decided to spend the day just enjoying the sun while doing some half-hearted browsing on the shopping streets of Rostock. As I had known I would, very soon I found myself in a bookstore, and once again I was immediately struck by the limitless opportunities of discovery that the literary world offers. Just looking at all those books almost moved me to tears, as in some obscure way it made me feel incredibly fortunate. No matter what, even if I never achieved another thing in my life or never left home again, there would always be this new world to discover. And even when I get old and my physical capacities weaken, I will a...

My two days in Paris passed in a blur, and the constant state of exhaustion made it all seem a bit surreal. Thus, all my memories and impressions on the city are somewhat vague, but what I do remember, I really like. It is so easy to see why this city is the most popular tourism destination in the world: it is full of wonderful, old buildings, lots of attractive people (not a small share of whom are foreigners), an abundance of cultural events, shops and sights for those who want to spent their time looking at them. And it really is as beautiful as they say. Getting around by bike proved to be the perfect way to see the city. Admittedly, I was mostly on my way to or from a milonga, but I did look around me as well. And wherever I looked, I saw manifestations of the immense importance the French place on beauty. Don´t get me wrong, I also like beauty, especially when it is allowed to take so many different forms, and indeed, based on Paris it seems to me that beauty really is mostly ...

Paris. Here I am, after all those weeks on the road, at the End of this Road. And I Love It: The city is lovely, the weather is beautiful, the people are friendly and the dancing is good. Most importantly, though, I feel really good about the achievement that took most effort in the very beginning and the last few days. As a matter of fact, I did get here already Friday evening, but time has just passed in such a blur that I simply have not had the time to sit down and write about it. Even as I write this (at 4 am on Sunday morning, having just returned from a milonga), I am about to fall asleep while seated, so I will need to be brief. On Friday morning, I had an early start from Peronne, and despite the minor (?) logistical problem of a 40-km stretch missing from my maps (funny, considering that they were the neighbouring pages of a series of maps) managed to cover most of the remaining distance without getting lost. This changed, however, the moment I got into the...

Looking back, I can see how ridiculous my anxiety about crossing the French border was. Essentially, nothing changed dramatically, as the bike paths, and especially their signposting, had been getting progressively more sporadic and less coherent the further I got from Holland, itself admittedly the Mecca of cycling. Once in France,this reverse evolution came to its logical conclusion as the bike lanes either disappeared or became littered with broken glass. I did not mind too much, as the drivers seemed to have no problem with me riding on the car lane and left a safe distance when overtaking. Even the change of language did not prove to be such a great barrier as I had feared. As a matter of fact I can now understand most of what it says in roadside signs, while in the Netherlands and Belgium I was only guessing. I even managed to take care of all communication in my patchy French that may not be pretty but seems to be close enough to get myself understood. I did do my best to ...

After two days of dragging my feet, I cannot think of any more excuses to prolong this: I just HAVE to get back on the road. For some reason, this last stretch of the trip seems almost impossible to start. I am hesitant about every single thing regarding it: the route; how many days to budget, whether to take the train for a part of the journey, whether I even want to do it anymore. And yes, I suppose I better admit it, I am also worried about how I'll manage in France. It is silly I know, as after all, I have travelled in places far more difficult, but still, crossing the border makes me really nervous. Last night's milonga in Antwerpen was housed in an old circus (?) tent a little bit outside of the city centre. Getting there involved, once again, a 15-min ride through some deserted wasteland by the docks, and cycling in the fast deepening dusk (and drizzle) I could not help asking myself if one of these days I will get into trouble on these journeys for tango. Although th...

Contrary to my (admittedly vague) plans, I have not managed to make it further than this Belgian port town in the two days since leaving the Hague on Saturday. Yesterday, upon riding into Antwerpen at around 7 pm, I was feeling pretty crappy. It had been a long day, riding mostly in rain, and my moods had not been the brightest. It never ceases to amaze me how different the riding can seem, depending on my moods. You see, ever since leaving The Hague I have been suffering from a terrible lack of motivation that is making the cycling ardous even when the terrain is flat and I have the tailwind to spur me on. Having made the bookings for Paris as well as for the return journey by train and boat, all of a sudden I find myself in a weird limbo; I feel no great urge to ride on, although, and I have to be honest about this, there is also very little enthusiasm about returning home. I suppose it is because I can now clearly see that the end of this trip is ...

Amidst the dizzying variety of tango shoes. After 4 wonderful days in The Hague, I am back on the road. The weather that has not been much to rave about during my two weeks in The Netherlands has once again turned rainy, and I must admit it is not making this any easier. The cycling itself is effortless enough as I have the wind in my favour, but the constant drizzle is making me wonder, once again, why I must do this. One big reason for my reluctance to leave was that I felt so relaxed, at home and in peace in The Hague. I was visiting Antonio whom I had met at Tangocamp Sweden a few weeks earlier, and he was doing his utmost to make me feel welcome. He was cooking for me, taking me to all the milongas in the area, sharing his life with me, and I almost felt guilty for the amount of trouble he went through for me. On Friday, we drove to Amsterdam to take part in the Tango Marathon. It was my first Marathon, and I was really excited to see it. The event would go on the whole weeke...

Perhaps as a logical continuation to my emotionally charged time in Amsterdam, the past couple of days have been filled with deep contemplation and reflection. In this, I have been helped along by long, meaningful conversations with inspiring people, some moving encounters on the dancefloor as well as a renewed contact with my family history. To my relief, Sunday night's milonga showed me that I was slowly recovering from the dazed state that those tangos in Amsterdam had induced in me, and that I was once again able to appreciate the many different kinds of leaders as well as the connection that I could establish with them. Until then, I had been caught up in a stubborn refusal to accept anything else but `The Best`, as often happens after a truly rewarding dance. Most importanly, I was reminded of the fact that just as in love, over half of the joy of pleasurable tango comes from sensing one's dancing partner's delight and enjoyment. I had many such tandas in Utr...

Leaving Amsterdam this morning. I have passed these few days in Amsterdam in a state of daze. The powerful experiences on the dancefloor, meeting some truly wonderful people, earlier happy memories of this city as well as new meaningful encounters, all have contributed to making this a very emotional time for me. Since that first night, I went to two more milongas, mostly with good but not exceptional dances. There were, however, the tandas that I danced with Rodrigo, and although I had been afraid the magic would be lost the next time we danced, fortunately this was not the case. On the contrary, with every dance the sense of connection, the loss of self and the sense of unity just grew stronger. This is what all tango people dream about, what drives them and motivates them to travel the world for tango; that magic moment when two people cease to exist as two separate individuals, and instead, one new being emerges. I like to call it the "us" that takes the place of ...

The guys at the Coffee Shop who helped me find the milonga places.  As you can guess from the heading, I have now arrived in the capital of the Netherlands. My approach took some time though, as I was not in any particular hurry. Along the way, I had all kinds of weather and a couple of creative solutions to accommodation problems, but mostly, it was a very pleasant ride. The first day I got as far as Leeuwarden, a town in the North of the country where I once went for a tourism conference. I had no other reason for wanting to go there and it was actually a bit out of the way considering Amsterdam, but hey, I had the time and it was within an easy reach from Groningen. The ride itself was very enjoyable (and short!), as it took me through the seemingly endless plains filled with grazing cows and sheep, plus the occasional horse and pony to entertain me. In the orientation, I was greatly helped by the fantastic bike route signposting system that always points to not onl...

My wonderful Danish Gentlemen ;-) I did make it to Holland (or to the Netherlands, as I have been instructed to call it) in the end, and have now spent two days savouring the delights of the Dutch way of doing things. I must say that it really is VERY different from the German way, and this reaches to most aspects of the everyday life, and naturally, to tango as well. Getting to Groningen on Satuday involved a lengthy ride through the windy plains that began slightly before  the German border, and for all I know, will probably continue well into Belgium. I have no complaints about the flat terrain (I had my share of uphills and forests in Sweden!), although the pretty strong headwind on Saturday did it best to slow down my progress. However, the Dutch (I wonder if this is the correct term either?) have had the decency to plant windbreaks in the plains, and they were a great relief from the gusts that would otherwise have been even more of a hurdle. I arrived here in early even...