Tango in Berlin (and the embarrassing end..)

I just spent three nights dancing tango in Berlin. I was there for work, but was able to add the three nights to my stay, and of course I took advantage of them to check out the tango scene. I found the tango venues on the internet but had no real good idea of what I would find.

My first excursion was to NOU. The place was very small with a cafe' style area with tables and a bar, and a dance floor about the size of a large living room. There were only two or three couples dancing at any time. I was lucky in that I sat near one of the only two advanced dancers (as I soon realized), and, after striking up a conversation, we danced to a few good songs. They played no tandas and no cortinas. The approach to ending the dance seems to be that at some point one asks "one more dance?", which is a signal that the "thank you" will come after that. This seemed to be the approach in all the other milongas as well.

I clicked well with another dancer as well, who invited me to go with her to another late milonga. I gladly accepted, and I had the added thrill of experiencing her tiny Smart car buzzing adroitly through Berlin "la nuit". The next milonga was much larger, in a beautiful hall, and still going strong. Unfortunately I never caught the name of it, but I understand that it was new, and apparently many of "the teachers" were in attendance. My kind companion taught as well, and I enjoyed dancing with her. Unfortunately we didn't exchange email addresses, as I thought I would see her in one of the next milongas, but that didn't happen (so, Illiana, if you happen to read this ... Danke!).

Friday night I went to "Yeite", a loft space several stories up in an industrial building.
It felt odd to ask people to dance pretty much at random, but overall the level of dancing was good. Again, no tandas and no cortinas. Just the "one more?" system. They had a raffle at some point and, to my total surprise, I won a CD. The master of cerimonies had already met me at the NOU milonga, where he acted as cashier and bar tender, but he made no big deal of the fact that I was from San Francisco. I found that in general the milonga organizers were not particularly attentive to who you were, your name, where you were from, etc. That felt unfriendly compared to the milonga climate in San Francisco. This was confirmed especially on my last day, at the "Tango Loft" milonga.

So, here I am at the Tango Loft, Saturday night. My last night. Had a hard time locating it in a large industrial building. Fortunately I saw some people who seemed like tangueros emerge from a door, and I found that the milonga was happening, again at the top floor of the building.

It's already midnight as I walk in, but the milonga is scheduled until 4am and I am planning to stay until about three and go straight to the airport from there. I walk in, pay, and immediately I see a woman in a red dress pouring some champagne in glasses and distributing some slices of cake to people nearby. I am reminded of a typical birthday celebration at one of our San Francisco milongas, where all attendees would typically be invited to partake. Without giving it much thought I pour myself some bubbly and expect to start some friendly conversation. What I get is a stern look from the woman in the red dress and a question, in an unfriendly tone: "and who are you?". A bit surprised by her demeanor and the stares of other bystanders, I manage to say " ... I am a tourist... from San Francisco", expecting some kind of friendly welcome. Instead I notice that their faces remain quite serious, and I suddenly realize my "faux pas". "Is this private?" I ask. "Yes, it's private" she answers. I feel like I have just been caught shop-lifting, and my profuse apologies, followed by my attempted explanation (in broken German - of our San Francisco "Milonga Culture") don't seem to elicit any forgiving or friendlier attitude.

Still embarrassed, I excuse myself, note that there is a bar, go there to order a glass of champagne, return to the scene of the crime, and hand the glass to the Lady in Red, with my calling card, and one final apology.

After that I finally start dancing. I recognize the very first woman I danced with at my first night's milonga. It's good to dance with her and I try to forget my embarrassing moment. But rather than embarrassed I am now starting to feel upset for not having been given the benefit of the doubt. I think of how we would welcome a visitor from Germany at one of our milongas. I go back to the Lady in Red and ask her to dance. Maybe she'll give me a chance to explain again or at least to be accepted as a visiting dancer. She says "later..".

The good part is that nobody else turned me down that night, and at 3am I found my way to the airport after many wonderful dances I will gladly remember. I wish I had had more time both to see Berlin and to become better acquainted with the Tango scene. And next time I'll bring my own bottle of champagne.