Tango: my life as a not so good leader -the sequel-

argentineless tango

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I think I’ve found a class for Mondays after all. The class is gender-balanced and unlike the other classes the people here are younger than myself. That’s because the teacher, a chinese with a ponytail, is mainly working with groups of college students.
He has several groups of beginners and this group is the (comparatively) advanced one that he created this year for the pupils who had been taking his classes for two years or more.
The music he uses is of the everything-but-tango kind, I don’t think he could tell a Fresedo piece from a DiSarli one, and there is no attempt either to introduce us to the culture of the dance. He’s not bringing mate and bombilla. Fine for me, I even find it refreshing to be shown a step without hearing that it was created by Virulazo, and to arrive late at the class without getting lectured about the ancient art of catching a taxi in Corrientes.
We do individual, stationary exercises on balance, like in Karate Kid. As the music is not tango we don’t feel the Pavlovian urge to start walking. By the way the whole class always remains within the boundaries of an exercise, there is neither waiting-for-late-pupils dance at the beginning nor now-dance-like-in-a-milonga-and-insert-the-sequence-whenever-you-feel-like dance at
the end. I would not choose this lesson if it was my only one, but as I’m attending several classes this one is like a warm-up for the others.

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