3603  Randy Does Rio, Part 1

Date: Fri, 8 Jul 2005 12:44:04 -0700
From: randy cook <randycook95476@YAHOO.COM>
Subject: Randy Does Rio, Part 1

Randy Does Rio, Part 1: "Dancing Tango and Feeling
Stupid in O Bar do Tom"

There is a reason why people hire tour guides and
travel in packs when they are in foreign countries.
It isn't because they can't find their way around by
themselves. A decent guide book and the help of
locals could get them most of what they want. Nor is
it fear of getting shortchanged or robbed. Common
sense precautions, such as not flashing wads of money
around in public, will prevent most crimes of
opportunity. Nor is it because they can't speak the
language. People everywhere want to help travelers.
They will find ways to communicate no matter what the
linguistic obstacles.

No, the reason people don't usually travel alone to
foreign countries is because they don't like feeling
stupid. And even if you've been there before and
speak a little of the language, it is guaranteed that
you will do and say many more stupid things than
usual.

Last night was a case in point.

My idiocy began innocently enough. I boarded the
little yellow cab and told the driver my destination,
which was O Bar do Tom in the entertainment complex
known as Plataforma in the tourist area of Leblon, in
Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Then I asked him whether he
knew how to get there. When he gave me a curt "Sim"
and kept silent for the rest of the ride, I realized
that what I had done was a bit like asking a New York
cab driver if he knew how to get to Times Square. I
felt stupid.

Then, at the ticket window at Plataforma, I ran into
Barbara, a woman I had danced with on a previous trip.
We kissed on the right cheek, as is customary in
Argentina. Then I remembered that the Brazilian
custom is to kiss on both cheeks. I pulled Barbara
back to kiss the left cheek, but she turned her head
and I kissed her on the right again. We both giggled
with embarassment, and I dropped my umbrella (it's
raining here in Rio). I felt stupid.

I entered O Bar do Tom, where Sergio and Patricia host
a Wednesday night milonga. It was 9:30. The place
was nearly empty. There was tango novo on the stereo
system. One couple was dancing. I wandered over to
the tables on the far right side of the room, then
decided it was too far from where most of the other
people were seated. I moved over to the left side and
picked a table closer to the dance floor. After
changing my shoes and ordering something to drink, I
asked Barbara to dance.

Barbara is a good dancer, but a traditional one. She
has a distinctive way of turning her head as she does
a boleo. It is a coquetish, feminine gesture which
did not fit the techno-tango music on the sound
system. I realized I had picked the wrong music for
the woman. I felt stupid.

Afterwards, Barbara introduced me to her friends, and
they asked me to join them. So I moved. In itself,
this was a harmless decision. Who wants to sit alone?
But it had two stupid consequences.

The first was that in the process of moving my food,
drink, jacket and umbrella, I left behind one of my
street shoes. This would have repercussions later on.

The second consequence was that I now felt obliged to
dance with all the women at my new table, none of whom
could dance as well as Barbara. So as I escorted each
of these ladies in her turn onto the dance floor, I
soon found out that our dances together were not going
to be easy. There was an uneven hardness in their
bodies, a tendency to lean on my shoulder or fade away
on a turn, moments of panic when I led something
unexpected, followed by mutual confusion as we sought
to reestablish our connection. I felt stupid.

The low point was when they put on some cha-cha. I am
not a cha-chero, but one of my table companions was so
crazy to dance that she was actually cha-cha-ing in
her seat. Gallantly, I invited her to dance, even
though we had just experienced technical difficulties
with tango. Cha-cha is challenging enough for me,
even with a good partner. With this woman it was
impossible. I can cover for a weak tango partner--for
any other dance I need someone who is good enough to
be able to cover for ME. I felt stupid.

Finally, as I expanded my horizons to other tables,
which were now filling up with new arrivals, I
actually began to have a good time. The flip side of
feeling stupid in a foreign country is that since you
don't know the customs, you might as well dance the
way you want. In Brazil you can get away with this,
which is why I like Brazil. (Don't try it in
Argentina).

I found at least three partners who not only tolerated
my fooling around, they seemed enjoy it. "It's like a
conversation," said one. "You talk with your feet,
then I talk back with mine." I didn't feel stupid.

But this was merely a deceptive interlude, a warm-up
for further folly.