Eric collects chairs and lamps . And traveling. He travels 300 days a year abroad teaches four days a week, holds regular classes in London, the USA and South Africa. Eric is married to Henry. Henry and Eric and Komala and Stefan manage this world for us unlikely that tango is a gift.
I had never seen El Corte so full as last Saturday. Never lined up outside the three on Saturday, that those who never came to the three already could not enter because the line was too long.
Eric had written, will be full, come on Friday evening or Saturday at one o'clock for the Tango-lab, which enter for sure.
El Corte Because there is limited access, only 250 seats. If the three stay out you can try at 19, before they close the doors. Or enter a secure room at midnight for the night.
But inside, Eric remembers every face, remember the names of the faces not seen for ten years, and if the three of you are in after Saturday you can come and go when you want to go to dinner at the restaurant turkish for example, or sleep in the car, to stock up on redbull station.
I have taken the risk. I chose not to go on Friday, do not go to the lab. So at half past two on Saturday afternoon I was surprised in the queue until the doors opened. Out there are mixed languages, it shudders, it embraces, finds himself smiling.
Here the charging energy, where hugs, you cling, you warm up, skipping the half-sentences in half-sentences, beginning with someone, end up in another meeting. Of the 250 people, almost half are there every time, we are regulars, the Oxford group, those from Berlin, Cologne, the Belgians, there's Jamie from Seattle, almost every month, a sprinkling of Dutch. And then there are others, French, Italian, Turkish, North European, East European, South European. Argentina, New Zealand, South Africa, sometimes. Come once a year, two, three, to review friends, to find the atmosphere of the marathon New Year's: super popular, tickets for the marathon of the year n +1 exhausted in the first minutes of the January 2 del'anno n . Before you run out the row of dancers in line to buy them.
faces that I see only a few dozen, perhaps only a dozen are of absolute strangers. The others I've seen them at festivals, milongas, photos, marathons.
While we gonna always find ourselves only there, and now there is the atmosphere of home.
I feel the new, see it in this house, milonga, they are infected.
Saturday was over the apple pie when I arrived. They have dozens, hundreds of sliced \u200b\u200bapples and raisins layered with a brown border that attempts to pretend pastry. With the cream, of course. Costa 4 ticks, not less than four euro, but we do not think. El Corte's free, eat, pay, make yourself a coffee and buena onda.
you enter in your veins, this is the magic of that place.
waiting Nijmegen, perché so che lì il tango è diverso, scorre fluido, ti entra nelle vene, tutta l'atmosfera, la stessa musica, l'energia che si livella e ti porta dentro un flusso comune, la pista da ballo isolata dal resto, chiusa, che permette un'intimità senza esibizionismi, tutta rivolta verso l'interno dell'abbraccio.
Il sabato pomeriggio fino alle sei musicalizza Stefan, poi applauso, cambio, un dj ospite fino a mezzanotte, che musica bella. Si applaude sui pezzi strani, Eric e Stefan giocano con le luci. Stefan abbassa il volume all'inizio dei pezzi per richiedere silenzio, Eric ogni tanto cammina tra le corsie per farle rispettare. Le prime ore del sabato la pista è affollatissima, l'ordine essenziale. Poi si libererà, i ballerini vanno a mangiare, a dormire, a cambiarsi. Si soffermano in quella specie di salotto, sui divani, sui grande tavolo della colazione, chiaccherano, si siedono, si danno il cambio, fanno pediluvi seduti vicini intorno allo spazio apposito.
Non ho mai ballato da nessuna parte come si balla in El Corte. Non è solo una questione di ballerini bravi.
E' l'apertura al nuovo, alle risate, alle sperimentazioni, alla ricerca di un'intimità disarmante ma disinteressata. E' possibile tutto, l'invenzione la morbidezza la sensualità la creatività, lo stupore continuo, il divertimento continuo, quel senso di pieno, di dipendenza. E il corpo che dopo ore di ballo permette comodità mai sperimentate, ricorda cose mai fatte. Non si parla in pista, non si invade la corsia a fianco, non ci si ferma, non si supera. Massimi livelli di civiltà. Ma la pista è isolata, c'è un accesso in salita, solo quella porta, il dentro è altro, e scherzando si dice, se rispetti la ronda, in pista puoi anche fare sesso, e c'è del vero nello scherzo.
Verso le sette si va per il ristorante turco con il gruppo di Oxford, ma siamo tutti lì. Quel quartiere fa affari il primo weekend del mese (internazionali - ancora si racconta la faccia di un albergatore durante la maratona di capodanno: nella hall, un centinaio di ospiti, passaporti dai 5 continenti, e si conoscevano tutti).
Zuppa e Tandir Kebab, un enorme pezzo di agnello morbidissimo, si costruisce la tango belly. Poi ancora in pista. La pelle dei piedi fa male, non la senti. Quasi rotolo, ma Yerpun, Walter, Renè, sono arrivati subito dopo cena e sono stati balli memorabili. Con Walter più di una volta ho iniziato a ballare alle nove rientrando dalla cena ed ho smesso per la pausa, a mezzanotte. Di certo ero a terra, con tutta quella pancia piena.
A mezzanotte c'è mezzora di pausa, you eat the soup - tomato and cream and pineapple, a brick, even I do not take it - then you continue with the show at night, with DJs Eric. I remember the most beautiful dances from midnight to three, the first few times, the body already so loose, but now I dislike this band, the music experience, makes fun of you. Many sleep on the sofa, close together, resting on the chairs are all different, some are massaged my feet, unknown but who cares.
At three o'clock the music stops, retrieve the sleeping bag, lie down on the dance floor, if you're lucky you do in the shower on Saturday night, world view, everything is transparent.
Otherwise go on to wine and chocolate with those of Oxford, on the couch.
prefer the Saturday morning to Sunday. Between the alarm and the milonga, there are several hours, you can eat, get a shower, relax.
Sundays you get up a bit 'before the alarm clock, you wake up already. Run to put the towel in line for the shower (the queue is not human), start with a daily dose of coffee, helps to cut the tomatoes and peppers for the trays of ham.
Helping a strategy that is more a gesture altruism: Komala want to be near when you can begin paying. Wash the cups at the end, in the case. There are already those who do, but everyone does his, if he has time.
At 11 Komala light classical music in the hall, the bell rings, you can pay, but she makes fun of you. Six in a row, but then when it's your turn you get up, look who is eating and has not paid. First pay, then eat. Pay. Fame. You sit at the table, my favorite moment. Cruesli and muesli, fruit of all kinds, jams, honey, chocolate, sugar syrup, thousands of types of non-bread-bread Dutch cheese, ham with tomatoes cucumbers peppers before, and all the sauces, egg, tuna, curry, to the hard-boiled eggs on Sunday, path, tea coffee milk yoghurt. Discover the strangest pairings, sandwich with cheese filling old raisins and banana can be good, if you're in the mood. But I vote cruesli, the appearance throughout the month. The rituals of my weekend of tango Netherlands.
We eat fast if you're at the table, Eat, do not talk, it is always Komala, there are people waiting. So prepare your plate and eat with others on the sofas, yawns, smiles, then see at what point the tail is your towel, you shower in the world view, dancing in the atmosphere of Sunday. Sleeping, frenzied together, you want to dance with who you miss, but you do not have the forces, and the other is a slow melt, feet already screaming. There is no coffee for them.
ends at three, but there Arnhem on the afternoon until the evening, just 20 minutes.
The problem is back on the world when you come home, when all about you, your head, heart, feet, the rest remain in the shadows in this microworld.
Technical notes for tango:
General Technical Note: Photos are photos of the international week and the monthly chained salon. Hence the small number of people visible. I am also a clear violation of copywright, I have stolen on the Internet not to know who
( For the unknown author of the pictures (if you ever come across this blog and if you ever find this little note): if you mind your pictures to be here, just contact me and I will remove Them :-))
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