How intimidating are French women?

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 about how people feel about themselves. If they are confident of their attractiveness and of the attention they will be receiving from others, they behave accordingly... and as a result, they ARE beautiful.

Before getting to Paris, I had had a slightly naive mental image of all frenchwomen being immaculately dressed, always wearing designer clothes and expertly applied makeup, looking like a million dollars at any time of day or night. In addition, I imagined them speaking their lovely language in such sensual tones that all the world would be holding its breath to hear more. And when it came to tango, I had a lurking fear that being the clumsy  nonfeminine tomboy that I often feel, I would not stand a chance of even getting invited to dance.

On the "beach" that had been built along the Seine, right in the centre of the city. In the background, the Pont Neuf Bridge is visible. Funnily, one of my all-time favourite movies is on this particular place!

Fortunately, this illusion was due to disappear, as the French girls turned out to come in all shapes and sizes, and not everybody was an amazing dancer either. However, in its place settled a healthy, honest appreciation of the way they behave and carry themselves, no matter their age. As coming to terms with my own (maturing) femininity has been one of the recurring themes of this journey, I welcomed this new perspective on what it means to be a woman. I don't think I have seen this many attractive women in their forties ever before, as the city seemed full of them, often with small children too. What I found even more encouraging was that despite looking decisively feminine, there was no hint of them spending excessive amounts of time fretting about their makeup, hairdo or designer shoes.

Tango itself proved to be just as varied as I had expected. Every night (indeed, also during daytime, it being the weekend) there were a couple of milongas to choose from, and I followed the locals' advice regarding which one to go to. The venues were beautiful too (is anybody surprised?), and interestingly, the crowd in different milongas was quite different: in some places, there were mostly pensioners, in others, especially the outdoor ones, mostly people in their twenties to forties. The level of skill was not intimidating, although at any milonga there would alwavs be some truly advances dancers (and yes, the advanced milongueras also looked stunning, so there I had been right). The music they played was very much according to my liking: lots of sentimental, melodic tunes, and only occasional fast-beat march-like tangos.

I had a lot of lovely dances in Paris, and in every milonga I went to there was at least somebody with whom I felt a deeper connection. On Saturday night, having danced in a day milonga at El Barrio Latino (an impressive building in several floors, all dedicated to music of Latin American origin) that turned out to be more of a pensioners' abode, I felt quite tired and even asked myself if I really wanted to make the longish ride to Montmartre only to dance a bit more. I am so glad that I did, though, as the place turned out to be one of my favourites of the whole trip.

Dancing with Denis at Le18 Montmartre. Notice the shoes!

Le18 Montmartre milonga was housed in an easily overlooked studio that is located behind a facade of residential building right next to the Basilique of Sacred Heart. True to my ways, I had not bothered to look up the route properly, and was truly surprised and slightly taken aback to realise that getting there meant cycling up a mighty long and steady uphill. Had I not been so used to cycling in strange cities after dark in search for tango, I think I may have even turned back, at least once I got to the address and there was no sight of a milonga. Instead, I went to a nearby 'night shop' (These shops basically sell alcohol, although there is always some fruit on offer too.Who would think of buying peaches or bananas at 3 am, I really don't know. Maybe that is one of the secrets of French women that I still have to learn?). The owner had a net connection, so I could check that I had indeed been to the right place.
Finally inside, I immediately liked the place. Not much bigger than a large living room, the floor had a lovely smooth surface and the people gathered there seemed truly dedicated tango lovers. I had brought along my new pink-and-blue Comme il Faut shoes, and I knew that the time to try them out was now or never.

I am happy to report that They Are Fantastic.Not only do the shoes fit better than any tango shoes I ever had, dancing in them is a real joy too. I never knew how much confidence such a seemingly trivial thing as shoe colour can give you. And, I have to admit this, the fact that most of the ladies present were also impressed by the shoes also felt nice! :-) 

The outdoor milonga at Opera Garnier.

On Sunday, there was an outdoor milonga at the main entrance of Opera Garnier, another truly impressive building bathing in the most beautiful afternoon sunshine one can imagine. The day had been really hot and I had spent hours on the 'beach' constructed on the banks of the Seine, flanked by a promenade packed with people on a stroll. I was more than a little bit sandy, wearing shorts and a t-shirt and no make-up, and this made me wonder if anybody would take their chances on me, with the place packed with French women who seem to manage to look elegant even when hot and sweaty.

Once again, I was wrong. By now, I already had some familiar faces in the crowd who I had danced with before, and in general it did not seem that difficult to get invitations even from strangers. Basically, I just looked at them really intensely, and almost without exception, they would soon relent and invite me ;-). In the end, I danced almost the whole time here too, and despiter initial tension that had reappeared from nowhere, became really relaxed and thus could really dance at my best level towards the last tandas.

All in all, the Paris tango scene is certainly worth closer examination. It is not, however, that much different from other large cities I have seen on this (and last year's) trip, and it is surprisingly accommodating to strangers. Speaking a few words of French helps in establishing a contact but is not strictly necessary, as many people actually OFFERED to speak English instead when they noticed that I had to search for words in their language. (So much for the supposed reluctance and inablity if the French to speak any other languages!) The music is lovely and the venues fantastic, there are a lot of people in most milongas, there is a lot of variety...and even the dreaded female competition is not impossible to cope with. One just has to come 'armed' with the right attitude (and the right shoes :-)!

As much as I enjoyed it, however, I had to leave Paris this morning, as I had my return journey booked and payed. Am now already back in Rostock, Germany, having spent the whole day on trains. Tomorrow I will have one extra day here, then in the evening take the ferry towards Helsinki. My moods are slightly pensive, and despite feeling happy and content with what I have experienced, felt and discovered during this trip I already find my attention turned towards home and the unresolved issues there. As some of you, my dear readers, so wisely commented, I do know that any decisions regarding those issues will only emerge with time. Some of them, however, are starting to formulate themselves with every passing day.