Mari Travels with Tango

Riga Airport, 10 pm. Another tango journey behind me, I sit at almost exactly the same spot as three days ago and marvel at the way these trips always manage to reveal something new to me. How, at the same time, one can feel so drained - and yet so fulfilled - by this madness we have chosen as our hobby. The secret lies somewhere in the inexplicable, fleeting moments of deep human connection, of reaching across the divide of geography, history, language and culture. Of sharing your joys, sorrows, dreams and disappointments in the wordless communication of a full tango embrace. Of two people becoming one in the spiraling, continuously evolving movement to music that touches the deepest reaches of your soul. The unpredictability of it all is probably what keeps us so hooked. No matter how many attendees you know in advance or what kind of marvelous dances you had with them in the past, there can never be any guarantees that this time, you will be granted even a fleeting sensation of unit...

  Riga Airport, 7:25 am. After miraculously managing to sleep for full 3,5 hours and catching my first flight well before sunrise, now already killing time at this very familiar hub. The fact that it has been several years since I last flew into Riga only brings the memories closer. It is good to sometimes be reminded of all the choices made in order to sustain this travelling tanguera lifestyle. Looking at all these "normal" people, on their way to a romantic getaway or a beach resort with their extended family, I become very aware of the years devoted to tango - and the toll they have taken. Certainly, these have been intense, emotion-filled, deeply meaningful years. Although they didn't leave me with much to show for (if the frightening quantities of tango dresses and shoes aren't considered), they did store in me such wealth of experiences, such a reservoir of emotions at their fullest scale, that it simply must count for something. Tango as a lifestyle is often e...