Ghost of Gavito

Milongas come and go but there's an exhilarating feeling when a good one comes back to life with full force. I have been meaning to write about this for a few weeks and I can no longer put it off because I was so moved by this milonga and it was even more amazing on my second and third visits. Over eight years ago, Maestro Carlos Gavito started El Recodo milonga at DanceSport. I remember it well and it was the most exciting milonga in NYC with a crisp Porteño air that sent shivers of excitement through your soul. In those days, I was rather intimidated by Gavito but over the years we became friends. He was one of the few who approved of my leading (although in general, he disapproved of women leading.) I suppose the great price I paid for this approval was that he never invited me to dance. He did however, send his girlfriends to dance with me and this was especially helpful to me in Roma as I knew no one there and that first dance showed me off so well that I had female partners for the rest of my stay. Gavito was a godsend. I have many stories about him and some will remain private memories but here is another one that I'd like to share...

The night before Gavito died (of lung cancer), he came to me in a dream. I was sitting in a milonga and smoking a cigarette. He came over to my table and said to me: "I am going but I want you to stay." He reached over and took the cigarette from my hand. He smothered it out in the ashtray, gave me a wink, and then disappeared. I quit smoking shortly after this dream and now it has been almost two years since I quit smoking. It has also been almost two years since I saw Gavito. For those of you who know me, it is not surprising to hear that I see and speak with spirits. It is an integral part of my life and work. Two weeks ago, as Paul Pellicoro welcomed us into the new DanceSport and spoke about the history of El Recodo milonga, I saw Gavito in the room. I saw him again last night and the Holy Ghost of Tango moved through the dancers touching their forms. (yes that means the level of dancing was quite high!) His milonga lives! Gavito’s spirit is still among us and blesses the space.

The new studio, by the way, is lovely. The ballroom is light and airy with lots of windows, French doors, plants and a cafe off to the side. I was totally impressed with the cappuccino machines and Danesi espresso. Leave it to Paul Pellicoro to give us a bigger better and classier DanceSport! After Gavito, Carlos Quiroga, the editor of Reportango magazine, carried on El Recodo milonga. At present it is being lovingly rejuvenated through the efforts of Ko Tanaka - dj extraordinaire! and hosts Ronen Khayat, Jennifer Wesnousky, and Santiago Steele.
Tiger's milonga rating: ✭✭✭✭✭✭✭


El Recodo Milonga
Every Sunday night
9pm-12:30am, $12 ($5 Dancesport Students)
DanceSport Intl Ballroom and Latin Dance Studio
22 W 34th St, 4th floor - next to the Empire State Building,
Tel: 212-307-1111

Update Summer 2008
El Recodo has moved to South Street Seaport until the fall.

Che Tango Che

This is great. Sent to me by my friend A in Uk. It's like the L Word gone Tango!

All Night Milonga Sat Apr 14 2007

it's famous, it's fabulous, it's open all night!

ALL NIGHT MILONGA

Saturday April 14th

DJ RAMU Pyreddy

Dancing 10pm to 5am

9pm intermediate class with ANGEL GARCIA CLEMENTE

Angel is a beautiful and accomplished dancer who has graced stages all over the world.

Hosted by Sarah La Rocca

Admission $15 includes the class and good vegan friendly refreshments

and Deborah's home made ginger bread.

BYOB suggested for those who like to drink

We are the only milonga with an in house psychic & astrologer!

Yes, LEXA ROSEAN will be available

for tarot & astrology readings.

And come ready to shop because the

FELINA TANGO SHOE BOUTIQUE

has a new selection of shoes for men and

women from Buenos Aires.

Tangueros of all levels, styles, stripes and spots are welcome.

With the largest dance floor in NYC, we have space for everyone.

Stepping Out Studios Ballroom

37 West 26th Street @ 6th Ave

9th floor

NYC

646-742-9400

miércoles mudo #10 [la boca b.a.]

wordless wednesday

Corazon Milonga

Last night I was dancing at Corazon Milonga. If you weren't there, you missed a wonderful and charming milonga. DJ and Host Yesim la Turca with her love of todo tango (all things tango) was happily spinning tangos, valses, y milongas till 1am. There were great snacks all night long and it is even possible to get food delivered from one of the many restaurants nearby in Chinatown or Little Italy.

Maestro Nito gave an excellent class and Nito Garcia y Rosa Collantes delighted us with an amazing performance. It is too bad if you missed it because we all need a hint of his elegance in our dance. Not to worry, Nito will return in August. In the meantime...Corazon milonga will continue to invite the finest teachers to give the intermediate classes and exhibitions.

Corazon Milonga
Wed Nights at Dance Studio 101 located on the second floor of 101 Lafayette Street. Only steps away from the N, W, R, Q, 6, J, M, Z, A, C, and E trains at the Canal Street stop.

miércoles mudo #9 [tiger y natalie]

wordless wednesday

Tango Bea

The Tanz of Tante Bashkee* IV

Bashkee was my grandmother’s youngest sister. She was born in 1920, the year England established a Jewish state in Palestine and the year America stopped drinking. In 1937 she went off to Paris (much to the astonishment and horror of her parents who wanted nothing to do with Europe ever again.) She studied dance and fell in love with Späss Ingersol, a young German musician. She met him at a musical tribute to the late Carlos Gardel. After Gardel died in ‘35, his music became legendary. Späss played the bandoneón and introduced Bashkee to the music and dance of the Tango. In the spring of 1939, Späss’s father called him home to Berlin. Späss’s father sent him to a Hitler youth meeting. When Späss returned home he found an SS uniform sitting on the bench where his bandoneón had been. Späss’s father actually secured a very high rank for his son. In 1940, when Germany occupied France, Späss insisted that Bashkee return home to Miami. She returned home and waited.

In 1945 she heard rumors that Späss had been killed when the Allies bombed Koln. This was when she learned the pain of the Tango. Refusing to be led by any other man, she forced her Macho suitors to teach her the lead. She began to teach the tango as well as other Latin dances to women and young boys in the dance halls of the growing Spanish communities in downtown Miami.

In the 1950’s my family took constant trips to Havana for pleasure. It was on one of those trips that Bashkee was reunited with Späss. It was in the spring of 1959. The year I was conceived. Bashkee dragged my parents, who were newly wed, to an evening of tango celebrating the music of Osvaldo Pugliese. My father spent all day at the blackjack table. My mother finally dragged him away and they drank Cuba Libres and had sex in their hotel room. Afterwards my mother lay in bed smoking a cigarette and my father sat in a chair smoking a Cuban cigar before dressing for dinner and the show.

I was beginning to germinate in my mother’s belly when Bashkee looked up and noticed the bandoneón player. It was Spâss. He had been living in Buenos Aires since 1946. He had falsified papers and was living under the assumed name of Paulo Ferrer. In those years, the Porteños, still solely possessed the tango. No one thought to thoroughly question the origins of a traveling bandoneón player. It was assumed he was born and bred in Buenos Aires. My parents checked out of their hotel room a week later leaving Bashkee behind. She returned to the bosom of her family with Paulo in tow before the year was out. Castro was about to overthrow Batista, and Bashkee and Paulo were in the mood to make love not war.

They lived in my great grandmother’s house. I remember their small room in the back. There was an ersatz marble mantle above their bed and on it rested Paulo’s bandoneón and the little gold cage where Bashkee’s jeweled beetle lived when it wasn’t blessed enough to abide next to her heart. Under the bed was an old crate from Europe. Bashkee told me it was where she and Paulo kept their treasures. I used to love to crawl under the bed and run my fingers along the old wood grooves and try to imagine what lay between the slats. There were stamps all along the panels of the wood. Names of different cities or countries embossed onto the wood. Der Schweiz, Paris, Buenos Aires, Bolivia, Caracas, Venezuela, and Havana, Cuba - those are the names I remember.

My great grandmother, Rose; also known as the Jewish Viennese Princess, was told that Paulo was from Austria, and of course that made everything all right. Everything, but two SMALL facts: Number one they weren’t married. Number two he wasn’t Jewish. The fights ensued for two years, with Bube Rose insisting that no daughter of hers would live out of wedlock in her house especially with a Shagitz.* Viennese or not! In May of 63, Bube Rose committed the ultimate act of instilling guilt in one’s children. She had a heart attack. In June of that same year, Paulo had a kosher conversion and he and Bashkee were married. She was 43. I was three years old. I was the flower girl at their wedding.

The wedding reception took place in a Cuban nightclub on Calle Ocho. Paulo played the bandoneón there on the weekends and Bashkee taught the tango. All of their friends danced the tango. I remember sitting on the floor and watching all the feet move. A sound, like the hissing of snakes rose from the dance floor. Looking up, chests leading and following, magnetic chests and one chest with a shimmering beetle, its jewels catching the light. Just then Bashkee and Paulo danced by and I was swept up into their arms. She held me against her breast between the circle of energy vibrating between she and Paulo. I looked up at Bashkee, and saw that her eyes were closed. I felt Paulo’s breath on the back of my neck. I felt his chest press tight against my back. I inhaled the smell of his spiced cologne mingling with the scent of her floral perfume. I smiled and rubbed my finger against the jeweled back of the beetle. I pressed my face into Bashkee’s cleavage and the beetle crawled right up against my ear.

“Cierra los ojos. Close your eyes. Bailar. Dance.” The beetle whispered. Smiling, I closed my eyes. No one in my family got this religion of Bashkee’s. I did. On June 13th, 1963, I got it. I was lifted into a movement of the body making love to the soul. I was held in a movement of the soul in rapture over the body. I was witness to a movement of two souls and two bodies uniting with grace and eloquence; mingling a passion both tender and turbulent; entwining sorrow and jubilation - all in a magnificent effort to greet the Divine...

to be continued...

*male version of a shiksa

excerpt 4 The Dance of Aunt Baskee
from Spinoza's Daughter by Lexa Roséan © 2007


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