1542  Notes from Buenos Aires 10

Date: Wed, 16 Jul 2003 13:35:46 -0500
From: Rick McGarrey <RICKMCG@FLASH.NET>
Subject: Notes from Buenos Aires 10

This is report number 10. It's amazing, really, that
just 3 short weeks ago I had no idea that I would even
be in Buenos Aires, or that I would be writing
anything at all. I had mixed feelings about coming
down at this time, but every time I'm in BsAs it's the
same. I find myself totally swept up in the
excitement and intensity of the experience. It
changes me. I feel energized, and these reports are a
direct result of that energy. I have felt no urge to
write anything for almost two years, and then boom,
out it comes. It's nice to have people read and enjoy
the reports, but I would be writing them with or
without readers- just as we all dance tango whether
anyone is watching or not.

But it is still good to have readers. People have
written to say they have enjoyed the reports, and even
to express concern about my health. These spontaneous
expressions goodwill from people I don't even know are
heartwarming. A few people did the same when I wrote
about being in the middle of the December riots of
2001, and it's a very very nice thing. I have tried
to answer each one, although my email system is
unreliable down here, and I may have misplaced a few.
If I failed to respond to anyone it wasn't
intentional. Four different people wrote to tell me
about an inhaler for my lungs, so Alejandra bought one
at the pharmacy yesterday. I used it once, and it
worked wonders! I'm going to live. Thank you!

Perhaps my last post wasn't a great idea. I wonder if
there's a way to send Report 9 to that big recycle bin
at the archives where the 'El Pibe' posts are hidden
away. (By the way, we saw El Pibe the other day! But
that's a story I think we'll stay away from for now.)
Naturally, Alejandra saw report 9, and her patience
is wearing thin. She just left to buy some tickets
from a place called Buquebus to get me out of town.
She says no more sitting around doing nothing; we are
getting out of here.

I've been surprised that I've been able to write so
much, and let it all hang out on this sometimes
fractious list with so little in the way of furious or
indignant response. If I can get away with this much
spewing and pontificating with the net result
apparently being only one angry Argentine, that's
pretty good. To him I say: Calm down, my brother.
Writing about the rude behavior of a couple of guys at
P&B is not an attack on the wonderful people of
Argentina, and certainly not a personal attack on you.
If you can't look at everything I have written about
this place in the last three years and conclude how
much I love Argentina and it's people, then you are
not a very careful reader.

Way back at the beginning of my reports, which seems
like a long time ago, I said it was my intent to write
objectively about tango down here. I realize now that
it's impossible. Merely by deciding what to write
about, and what not to write, you are stating a point
of view. It also occurs to me that in writing, as in
tango, it's often more important what you leave out,
than what you put in. A report that tells everything
ends up saying nothing, as does a tango dance with
every possible step crammed in. A string of facts, a
series of steps. Meaningless. You need to edit. It
is by editing that you say something.

I've written about some ungentlemanly behavior, and I
think it's time to write about the other side of the
coin, about something that happened in a similar
situation with a very gentlemanly milonguero in Lo de
Celia's. And I also want to write about that club's
owner, Celia Blanco. Celia is a tough, sweet, blunt,
smart, irresistible woman. (But who couldn't help but
love a woman who has the 'huevos' to publicly call a
bunch of the prominent people in tango down here, 'A
bunch of clowns!')?. The first part of the 'Celia'
report was written early in the morning, while still
under the influence of the 'destornilladores', and
will include a rant about a tango instructor in the
U.S. who teaches nothing but steps. I'm going to
leave it in as a lesson to myself that writing and
drinking don't mix.

As I said, by deciding what you leave out when you
write, you are making a statement, and I realize that
I haven't been that objective. By focusing on the
sort of 'soul of the milongas' style that I love, and
by occasionally speaking dismissively of 'steps' in
tango, I have dissed a big part of tango. A part that
is as enjoyable to the people who like it as my style
is for me. And in some ways it is more challenging,
and certainly more pleasurable to watch. That is the
more formal, 'academic' type of tango that Celia
teaches at Teatro San Martin. Sometimes we soul tango
fanatics tend to jump all over anyone on the list who
dares to say that a boleo or a gancho is nice to do
every so often. So, being the new, objective reporter
that I am, I will write a little about that.

Report #11 is one about the gentleman at Celia's.
Then I plan to follow it with the one about Celia and
teaching tango.

That's it. Uh, oh. Here comes Alejandra. She's
purchased some tickets for a thing called the
Buquebus. Apparently it is a sort of huge airplane
like boat that flies over the water. But they call it
a bus? On the immigration form, then, I will circle
three of those little pictures that declare what type
of transportation brought you: a bus, an airplane, and
a boat. It looks like I am being punished by exile to
another country, disconnected from my computer
therapy. We are going to a land far across the water
to the north called U-Ru-Guay. She's says I've been
locked up in this apartment way too long. U-Ru-Guay
is a wild mountainous region, and Alejandra, in an
attempt to get me away from the bad air and my
computer addiction, has gotten us jobs as caretakers
at a very large isolated lodge high up in the snowy
mountains. We will be snowed in alone, and I will be
disconnected from the www, and from 3D Pinball, which
I play endlessly when not writing my 'Sentences' on
this PC. But she says there is a thing there called
a 'maquina de escribir', a mechanical writing
machine. I can use this, but I'm afraid it will be
more difficult and time consuming to fill infinite
pages with the same 'Sentence' over and over again,
which I now do carefully for 14 hours each day. I
wonder if this is why she's removed all the knives and
sharp objects from the kitchen? Oh well, I guess I
can engage in my therapy on this 'writing machine'
when we get to that big deserted lodge in the
mountains. Let's see, where was I? Oh yes! All work
and no play makes jack a dull boy. All work and no
play makes jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes
jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes jack a
dull boy. All work and no play makes jack a dull boy.
All work and no play makes jack a dull boy. All work
and no play makes jack a dull boy. All work and no
play makes jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes
jack a dull boy. All work and no play makes jack a
dull boy. All work and no play makes jack a dull boy.
All work and no play makes jack a dull boy...

End