Friday, July 15, 2011


You would understand this simple statement better if I could convince you to fly to Buenos Aires and start your own journey to the music, the poetry, the dance and the culture that has transformed the lives of people all over the world. My journey started 12 years ago, though the groundwork had been laid years before, in the fifties, when my mother sang "Jealousy" in the kitchen as she swept the floor. There is a long tradition in Argentina of dancing tango with a broom - bet no one there could believe that it was also happening in a kitchen thousands of miles away in Bangor, Maine.
It was a March day in 1994 when I arrived in Buenos Aires for the first time. It was autumn in South America, and Easter at the same time. If you live in the Northern Hemisphere, you'll understand why that seemed so strange. It was hot - steamy. I was with a group of tango fanatics from around the world. As we waited for the bus that would take us from Ezeiza airport to tango Mecca, one of the group started leading a tango on the hot tarmac. Right there, the first tango in Argentina.

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