Mari Travels with Tango

Sometimes, a brief meeting with someone can leave a reverberating effect in your whole being, like seismic waves that return days after the initial earthquake has passed. You feel at the same time impressed, inspired and humbled, and in one fleeting moment, realise how little you still know, how immature and egoistic most of your actions seem, and how petty your problems and worries are. Wisdom cannot be borrowed or bought, but there is always hope that the years will grant you some insight.

Last night, i got an indication of what it must have been like in milongas back in those days when instead of a DJ, you were dancing to the music of one of the superstar orchestras of the 1940's we now emulate, when Orquesta Típica La Juan D'Arienzo took Tampere by storm in the World of Tango festival. The powerful combo of 4 bandoneons and violins was packed with youthful male energy and D'Arienzo-like drive that spread like wildfire amongst the audience and dancers. It was without a doubt the best concert i've ever been to, and this morning, my heart is still vibrating with joy, gratitude and happiness.

Last night, I made one of my sporadic attempts at a night out without tango. Consciously choosing a casual style of jeans and t-shirt to contrast with the laces and satin that have become my usual Saturday night attire, I headed out to the surprisingly warm night, planning to check out some of the venues I used to frequent those days when I still had a "normal" life. Two hours later, I still hadn't entered anything resembling a bar, but instead was walking around the city listening to Tanturi, DiSarli and Pugliese, my feet aching to dance. The lyrics, the melodies, and the emotions and memories brought by them, were just so much more engaging than anything a bar could offer. To my surprise, I realised that contrary to what I have thought, my love for this music is only growing stronger. Tango is a sweet illusion, yes. But so is life.