Dream 5 - Clear waters and waterfalls

This was such a peaceful dream.
I'm sure it's the way my mind incorporates memories or something, because there are some parts of it you can tell that are clearly affected by my conscious brain.

Blue Lagoon is my home. The "nose" is my favorite part, it has crystal clear waters and the softest pebbles. Here is a peek:

And here is what the it looks like when you are paragliding from over 1900m. You can see what I mean by the nose.

In my dream, I go to the Blue Lagoon to meet some friends. I take public transportation, and get off the bus at a part of the Blue Lagoon that I've never been before (which does not exist in reality). However, this place is so much more beautiful. The water is even more crystal clear here (unfortunately due to high tourism in this area, there is mild pollution). Also, there is a complex behind the beach where some boutique hotels and stores reside (which is also not the case in reality). I am so amazed by this part of the beach in my dream, that I lay my towels down there, enjoy the water and the beach.

Here is one part where my daily life goes into my dreams. In my dream, I had a whole bunch of towels with me, so many that I couldn't carry all. It must be because I did three loads of laundry yesterday, one of which was all towels, which kept bugging me for a few weeks.

At some point, while I'm waiting for my friends to call me, I realize I have lost one of my towels. (I actually own this towel. It's a nice, blue, but cheap towel that I once bought from a K-Mart like place on my way to Blue Lagoon one summer, because after getting on the bus I had realized that I was going to the beach with no towel.) Then in the water, down at the bottom, I see a bluish-towel. I think it is mine, I dive in and fish it out. It's blue, yes, but it's not mine, it has light colored regions. I ask around if it is one of theirs, they say no. But one of the ladies take it and fold it and put in under his son's head, who is laying on the beach like a big fat whale. I tell them I was going to actually take the towel since I lost mine, and the lady gives it back to me with annoyance.

Then I decide I move further toward the other side of the beach. I make a note of the hotel that was behind me, so I can describe this side of the beach to my parents, who were going to meet me later in the day after their work finishes (This, too, is based on reality). I move around the curve of the beach, leave my stuff there temporarily, then a friend of mine finds me and shows me an inland way to get to where they have been all this time. I don't want to go through the inland way, since my stuff is on the beach and also because my parents might show up. She explains me where they are and I tell them I will meet them in a little bit.

When I go back to pick up my stuff, I realize that this part of the lagoon is actually some sort of trapped water in high altitude (!). I see someone (or was it me?) swimming in this trapped water. I see an orca at a distance, he sees the swimmer, and starts coming towards him. He manages to get on some structure in the water and avoids the orca, but the intention of the orca was not bad. I think he was only playing,  but I can't be sure. Then, while standing on that structure in the water, which is between two really deep regions of water, I also see a polar bear swimming. What an interesting place Blue Lagoon has become in my dream!
There is also a touristic facility which has a glass wall and elevators with glass walls, so you can take them up and down to see different depths of this trapped water. I see my friends among the crowd looking at the waters. They wave at me and they start going down. I see the depths as if through their eyes. What we see at the very bottom is icy cold water, and actual ice! I am not sure how there can ever be snow and ice at the bottom of a lake but there was in my dream.

Then I circle back to pick up my things and meet my friends inside the touristic complex. By this time I know that my parents are not going to show up and I am a little disappointed, but oh well. I meet my friends in front of another exhibition sort of place, where there are stairs going up and down, endless! We start climbing up. For some reason I wear heels, and there is no railing to hold on to! Individual stairs are also not interconnected. But I still climb up. At the very top, we realize that this is where the elevators with glass walls start going down. The downward stairs also lead to the bottom of the lake. When we get back to the ground level, I kick off my heels and put on my sneakers with relief, and since I saw what the bottom of the lake looked like, I do not go down the stairs with some of my friends.

The dream seems to end there, me wondering where this trapped water might lead to. Then my mind, in my dream, takes a voyage along with the moving water, as if my body is on a sled over the water. The water moves from the trapped area and falls over hills, over and over, creating many beautiful high altitude waterfalls, and I go with them. I am not scared though, because I know I'm actually not there, only my mind is there.

Just about coming to sea level, having seen all there is to see, my dream ends.

It was very beautiful.

Although, after I woke up, another short dream followed.

This one was more hectic. I was actually an older guy, like Sean Connery. There was a young woman, who wanted to go to a dangerous cave, and the only way to access there was through the sea. She believed there was something in that cave, and that a man was protecting the cave. I tell her that the guy is a fake legend, and even if we make it there, he is not going to be there. She is persistent. I tell her how dangerous it is. Because, it is said that, "You have only one chance to go to the cave". It is implied that something bad happens if you fail. She says she is going to go. I tell her that even if she fails and gets lost, I will never stop searching for her.

We end up in those waters, together. She is scared. We can see the opening of the cave around the corner. Suddenly I see a reddish shadow under us, in the depths of the water. I tell her not to be scared and not to look down. As the creature comes closer to us, I remember the legend of the cave and why they say you only have one chance to go to the cave. This is the legendary fish (or maybe a shark) that swims around the cave. It is immensely big, maybe 10 yards wide and a 100 yards long. It gives the intruders one chance to climb on his back and from there, jump on the rocks near the cave. There is only one way to do it, and I know which rock to hold on to and which rock to jump on. If you fail, the fish pretty much kills you. The great fish takes us on its back, we have only a few seconds to decide what to do, the girl is anxious but I tell her to wait for the correct moment, and I hold on the the rock and we jump to the ground from the fish's back. We make it.

She is exhilarated, but suddenly she realizes the man she was looking for, the man who was supposed to be waiting at the cave's entry, is not there, like I guessed. She realizes he was a fraud. In false hope she encircles a corner of rocks, hoping to find him on the small beach behind. He is not there either. She looks at me with great disappointment.

And I wake up.


These were very vivid, and very detailed. Especially the shorter action sequel to the main dream made my heart race when I woke up. Man I love my dreams. It's like having your own movie theater.

How I found myself

The biggest positive side of my current singlehood is that, I finally re-found myself.

Until college, I was the most popular girl in town. Smart, beautiful, the works. I never had any problem about being social or dating. At college, I was pretty outgoing as well, but never actually dated anybody seriously. I was more focused on my intellectual being than my emotional being back then, though I dated a few guys for a few months at times but they were all transient. I never thought I fell in love.

When I came to Ann Arbor, however, as strong as I was, and as social, I was weak. I fell in love with the first guy I thought was decent. He was a charmer and I was charmed. I followed that charm for 2 years. The second year was far less dramatic and stressful, we actually started caring for each other much more deeply, and even went as far as living together. Although we had very different lives, we managed to share our lives at maximum. Did it work? No. Was it a bad end? Especially considering I was on crutches having fractured my foot, yes it was a bad end. But did I know it was over long ago? Undeniably.

After our break up, I was scheduled to go home for a vacation that included my cousin's wedding. As hard as it was in the first few days, it was surprisingly not so hard afterwards. I came back to AA strong and fine. A month or two I tried my best to re-create my social life, which was mostly about my ex-boyfriend's family and friends before. I took every opportunity to be social and out and about. And shortly, I met someone through a friend, very unexpectedly, and we started a relationship.

That took another 3 years of my life. During which, I now realize, I had lost who I was. When we started dating I was this self-confident girl, who was younger than her guy in years and in energy, active and outgoing and very social. He was a regular guy who worked a regular job and lived a regular life with a fun weekend every now and then. Through our relationship he evolved and I devolved. He became more and more social and outgoing while I became this poor little girl who'd do anything for his attention. Every time he complained, I tried my best to still be myself but also become whatever type of girl he wanted me to be. In time, the balance went askew. I was less myself and more this girl who lacked confidence, and had lost the sense of who she was. I relentlessly held on to whoever I became back then, I though that was what he wanted and I thought what he wanted was what I wanted.

Luckily for me, those 3 years ended. Dramatically, yes, but nonetheless. They ended.

And after the first few months passed with the awkwardness of not knowing what to do with myself, I finally realized I was single, and I could be myself. So I went back to doing things I liked. I went back to Tango full time, I traveled for Tango. I started seeing my friends who cared for me much more often. I started enjoying who I was, I felt strong enough to act goofy, I started enjoying going out in jeans and a t-shirt, and whenever I wanted to dress up I actually could dress up the way I wanted. I went back to putting in quite a lot of hours at work and at my social life, instead of sitting home watching tv. I started looking forward to our after-work-over-beer conversations with friends. I remembered how it felt like to genuinely laugh. Since then, I never hold back from laughters. I talk and I laugh a lot. I use hand gestures a lot as well when I talk, as any other Mediterranean girl, I am very passionate about whatever I do, even when it's just telling a story.

Eventually, I realized I found myself again. I found who I was and am. I realized I had pressed my "self" down under some blankets during my relationships with these two men. I wasn't myself. I was trying to be who they wanted me to be and who I thought I should be.

Now I embrace who I am. So much that, I don't even care much about the consequences.

Yes I am strong and I am weak. I am very emotional yet in many aspects I am the most logical. I am complicated. I am fun and I talk a lot and I listen a lot. I go out a lot to enjoy shared evenings with a variety of friends, all of whom I love so much. My love for people are endless as long as they deserve it. I am loyal and very faithful in every relationship, to those who deserve. I am intolerant to most of those who don't. I listen to my heart more than anything, and I do daydream, yes, but I am more realistic than Joe Average. I know what things are, although I sometimes still hope they are not what they are. I love passionately. When my heart flickers, I follow it, and I never felt ashamed of having done so. Even if doing so cost me too much sometimes. Like when it scared off people who I wanted to include to my life.

Though, at any point when I feel like that, I always believe that, this is who I am. If they hadn't discovered it now they would have later, and if who I am does not sit well with them, we are not compatible to begin with anyhow. So all is well, nothing is gained maybe, but nothing is lost either.


After years I found who I have been. I had forgotten who I was for a long time. Now, I don't want to let myself forget or ignore who I am again. Not for anybody.

If I ever get myself into a relationship again, I know who I am and who I will be in that relationship. Not too much sacrifice there anymore.

If you don't like who I am, as you perceive it... Either come closer and get to know me.. Or stay away and it's your loss anyways!

Poor kitty that got skin cancer

In general we humans, as loving as we are, still are superficial..

This is the story of a cat called Charlie, who unfortunately got skin cancer and got his ears and his nose removed to avoid spreading of the cancer.. Yes he looks a little scary, but I think nicknaming him after Voldemort is a little superficial. I am happy to read that he finally got adopted by a loving lady - who had no interest in Harry Potter fame. No offense, JK Rowling, I love your books, but even for marketing purposes, I think this was way too cheap.

Every animal need our help. Ever one of them is worthy of our love and care. For all I know, his ugly nose is one if his cutest features. I'm happy for you, Charlie.
With love, Jada.

How I realized I was an Ann Arborite

2010 has been the year I fully became a "local", an Ann Arborite.

I love Ann Arbor. It is home for me now. Not even home away from home, but home. Every time I go back home home, it's changed so much. I don't think my home home exists any more, you know, the one I grew up in. So Ann Arbor has become my harbor, maybe not the one I grew up in, but the one I grew up into as a young adult.

Ann Arbor has such character!

I remember when I first moved here, for the first two years I didn't have a car I hated Ann Arbor. I moved from a city in which you cannot take a step before the guy in front of you creates that space for you to step into. Then I come to Ann Arbor, where a single college rules pretty much everything. There is no life in the streets after certain hours, and no bar life after 2am. Where I come from, you go out after midnight - not after you have your afternoon nap!

Of course I hated Ann Arbor especially because I was a pedestrian - I was used to having access to everything within 100 yards of my flat. And I mean, everything. You need a grocery store? You got it. A gift shop? Yes. A flower shop? Definitely. Apparel and shoe stores? Is that even a question? Needles? Hammers? A tailor? A vet? We have it all. Oh, looking for a sink for your kitchen? That too.
In Ann Arbor, on the other hand, without a car, I had to plan my weekends around hourly bus schedules to Meijer (which, by the way, takes forever to go a mile. Yeah back in St. Olaf the buses are even slower and to top that there's also incredible traffic, but at least the busses come every few minutes and they go pretty much everywhere.), and god forbid I had to carry a couple of 2lt soda bottles from the bus stop to home. Even if I manage that, you end up spending such a big chunk of your day, huffing and puffing, it's a total, boring waste.

Man, those were some hard days.

But in time, a lot of things changed. Having my first car changed most of it and finally made A2 a convenient place to live. I was able to go to neighboring towns more often. I didn't have to depend on people for transportation. So, having a car was the first big step towards liking A2.

The second and final step of becoming an Ann Arborite was more gradual. It actually started in 2009, when my new job included a team of Texans. I was the only "local" from Ann Arbor, and suddenly became the go-to person for everybody. After 4 years of always being the foreigner in town, finally I was the Ann Arborite.

My transformation was complete by the end of 2010.

Here are a few realizations I had during this weird year that made me feel the Ann Arborite I am:

* I no longer dislike winter, instead, I love, cherish and enjoy it a little too much. Consequently, I am as pro as one can be driving on snow without a 4x4.
* I am no longer the person who wears layers and layers of clothing in winter, even at work. No more turtlenecks, no more double triple under shirts, no more any of it any more! I can actually wear a t-shirt inside and mostly be OK.
* One day I looked at my feet and to my honest to goodness surprise, I was wearing flip flops under my jeans - to work.
* I finally knew that I was not going to have to sell my car soon, and long-awaited bumper stickers got their designated space on my bumper: a very Ann Arborite "Coexist" and a very Darwinian fish.
* I have had at least 4-5 bars I felt at home. At my current favorite spot my beer comes without me ordering.
* I have hosted many visitors to Ann Arbor and have proved to be a very knowledgable host.
* I know which places look dreadful but serves the best food, and I know which are the other way round.
* I've enjoyed many local festivals, some not even known by many, like the Rolling Sculpture Car Show, which I enjoyed immensely. I'm also local enough to enjoy but mostly hate when Art Fair blocks downtown.
* I've been around Detroit and the suburbs of Metro Area enough to be not a stranger any more. (I don't have a bigger intention to be more familiar.)
* I know 95% of the apartment complexes in Ann Arbor in detail.
* Even the guys at my oil change place know who I am. And my local Wendy's people as well. And of course, my gas station people. Some even constantly supported me as I quit smoking.
* I do get offended when someone says something a little negative about Ann Arbor.
* I have been at the UofM, as a student and as an employee, at more than a couple departments, long enough to see many people coming, starting, ending and leaving their lives at UofM.
* I have tailgated among adults (not them annoying undergrads).
* I have been to two UofM games, one being against Michigan State. I learned what people used their keychains for during the game and why they screamed, was a part of the yelling maize crowd that managed to force spartans to take a timeout, and sang Hail to the Victors.
* I have more than one wolverine apparel.
* I somehow ended up owning a few too many "local" t-shirts, like of Blimpy's, Zola, Charley's.... although I only worked at one.
* When I see a product, let it be a coffee mug or a pair of sneakers, I can guess which store it came from in Ann Arbor with pretty high accuracy.
* I am affiliated with not only UofM but also with EMU.
* I know a few A2 oddities like the Fairy Doors and the little robot road stamps.
* I have volunteered more than a thousand hours at the local, state-of-the-art Humane Society.
* I have a sizable number of friends who are genuine locals, you know, born and raised in A2. Which is pretty rare to find in such a transient town, I think.

The list continues...

I am a humble but proud, liberal Ann Arborite that adds to the unique diversity of this town.
Finally I belong somewhere again.
I am from the fabric of this town.

I am an Ann Arborite.

Courtesy of Yuriy Dybskiy

Dream 4 - Singing "mother"

After a very dry season, this morning, within a half an hour snooze before I got up, I had another finely plotted dream.

It was strange, it repeated itself once, and ended like a movie. Most of it I am sure was affected by the Law and Order episodes running on the TV I had left on when falling asleep. Killing people to survive, hiding.. etc.

In the beginning though, before it all turned into this hide and chase dream, I saw my mother and I, later with the rest of my family, picking a small house and spending a night there, waking up in the morning. It was weird enough by itself before abruptly becoming a totally another dream.

Anyhow, the dream was detailed and stressful, yes. But I don't want to go into details of it since I am pretty sure watching L&Os for a whole weekend while being sick put my unconscious mind to work. But the end of the dream affected me very much.

As I said many times before, my dreams are like movies. They start, build up with a plot, climax and reach a resolution. Somehow, this very awkward dream reached a resolution, and the take home message was about growing up without mothers, or missing lost mothers, and how this affects a person.

So at the end of my dream, I saw myself, over green pastures, singing and humming. It was very angelic, I was wearing a very light, whitish dress. It was kind of in slow motion, to match the song. I was singing "mother", in a very slow, very melodic tune, in a soprano voice. All the while, I was gliding over some ropes high up over the green pastures. I would slowly jump in the air to catch the ropes (which looked like telephone cables, or even laundry drying ropes stretched across a big area) to change the ropes I was gliding through my fists. I would always catch the ropes. And keep humming the tune.

It was a very peaceful ending.

Social pressure of the upcoming VDay

In many ways, I am very guy-like. I like motorbikes and cars as much as I like shopping. I like going to the same bar every other night, with jeans and a t-shirt; rather than having a girls' night out on a martini bar with cute outfits on. Yes I like being feminine, you know, I care about how I look, put some eye make up on, and every once in a while I do dress up. But mostly I go to work in sneakers and a sweatshirt with my hair tied up in a pony tail. I like bantering instead of gossipping. I can't stand people bitching around assuming I'll be joining them just because I'm a girl. I don't play the girlie-flirty games to draw men's attention. I am a very real, solid woman, enjoying her late twenties. As feminine as I can be, I'm not a miracle on earth who never burps or poops.

Yet, a side of me is still way too sensitive, "like a girl". Yes I do hate romantic movies, it's been years since I voluntarily watched one, although my reasons might vary from the average dude. I don't like them, in part because, yes, they bore me to death, but also in part, because they hurt me. None of them are realistic, first of all. Whoever writes those stories have really limitless imagination. And knowing this hurts me. 'Coz as guy-like as I am, I am still a little girl who wants to be loved by a prince on a white horse.

I never had problems with Valentines Day approaching. For the longest time, including my years in college, I was always single around this time of the year, so I never felt something was missing. In the last 4 years, however, I got used to being with someone, and this will be the first after those 4 years that I will be with myself on a mid February night. This will be the first time I will maybe feel like I'm missing something. Will I actually be missing something, or someone? No. But will social pressure make me feel like I am? Yes.

How do we explain the connection we feel with the hero or the heroine of a movie we watch, a book we read? Why do we feel happy when they are, and why do get upset when something bad happens? By all means we know it's fiction. So why? What's the benefit in feeling these emotions? This empathy, does it make us more human? What is it? And why, as women, are we more susceptible to crying after watching a sad movie than men are?

I hate our hormones. I wish I had more testosterone. I hate the female hormones because tiny disturbances on balanced levels of any of these make us weird. One day you can't get enough of chocolate. The other day you cry because you saw a cute little abandoned puppy. The next you hate your co-worker so much you can burn the office down on her head. And the next morning, you are as mild as one can be.  How the heck are we to control our lives when our hormones are affecting it so much?

So my hormones lately are telling me to watch the emotional movies I generally hate to watch. I don't like watching such movies since they annoy me too much, as I am pretty realistic a person and none of those movies are. But I watch them, and they affect me. They make me feel lonely, they make me want to be loved, they make me want the company of a guy.

So yes, I'm strong enough to admit that I am affected by approaching Valentines Day. I wouldn't mind having a date. Although I don't mind being by myself either. I keep myself pretty good company. But nowadays... I wouldn't mind some other sort of company either.

Eye Candy

Being sick at home on a white winter day is not that awesome. Yeah yeah you sit inside your cosy home, in your warm robes, with a warm mug of tea with mint and honey in your hand, watching the snowflakes falling outside. But very soon, you get bored, doing nothing, you watch whatever is on TV. So OK I admit I sometimes watch Lifetime... Today there were a bunch of mother and kidnapped son reunion movies. All pretty crappy, C list movies. Although, I can't say it was a total loss on my part, 'coz I got to lay my eyes on this eye-candy:

Ok so I do like baby faces. But come on, look at that thing!

Another wednesday...

So today was supposed to be a record low / snowstorm / blizzard in Southeast Michigan. 24hr warning period. Everyone was prepped. Schools closed, no one planned to show up at work, facebook statuses flooded with expectation of a whiteout. Snow started late yesterday, almost completely stopped by noon today. Ha ha. Once again, Michigan fooled Ann Arborites.

Me, I wasn't expecting anything. I can drive pretty much in any amount of snow as long as there is no gust. I knew I was going to work.

But I wasn't sure if I was going to tango, which is my regular wednesday evening routine. The reason isn't the weather, I am sick. After such a joyful tango festival, on the very last day, finally I fell sick. I am sure some guy or girl at the festival was sick and still came, 'coz many of us fell sick during the weekend. That's the curse of tango: it's so hard to stay away, even when you're sick. But then again, when you press your upper body against someone else's, you'd better make sure you'are not carrying something contagious. Damn you unknown sickness source!

So for the last two days my head is heavy, my glands are swollen, my lungs are full and my nose is runny. My voice is so cracked that it scares off people. Someone actually said I sounded like I was dying. It offends, you know, when you feel better than you look! I think this was the first time I was told I looked like I was dying. The closest one was 7 years ago when I was staying alone at my brother's place and someone threw a chair at the living room window at 2am. I ran up to the second floor to the landlord's door. First thing the wife said to me when she opened the door was " Oh dear you are green". She didn't even know me and those are the first words I heard from her. But that's another story. Still, I'd rather look green than like I'm giving my last breath.

Anyways. So I am sick, but I can still work. It was a good busy day at work, and after the snow disappeared, I was even thinking of staying late at work and finish up some stuff. Then my friend who goes to Bikram Yoga, who was also sick a few days ago by the way, told me she was going to yoga this evening. I told her I wanted to come back to yoga but I was sick, and she suggested I still go. She said she felt better when she went to yoga even though she was sick.

So I got pretty motivated, plus I had this awesome coupon for Bikram Yoga, so I packed my things early at work, came home, got ready: I got my towels ready, put on my exercise outfit and layered on my winter clothing, kissed my cat good bye and left. Little did I know I had forgotten a crucial piece of clothing I would need after the shower. But that too is another story.

I was scared about being sick, my nose running more now, being already dehydrated enough. But something kept pushing me into the studio. So I walked in, with a huge bottle of water and a pack of tissue. It was warm and nice inside, and unusually (!) not too horrible to the nose. It felt good to be there again. And interestingly, as we moved through postures, I felt better and better. Yes my nose kept running, and I kept drinking water maybe a little too much. But at the end of it, I felt healthier, I felt like I could do another 90 minutes.

I don't know what it is about breathing and stretching in the hot, but it worked.

At least for a while.

Now I'm back at home, and after the initial buzz of yoga wore off, my sinuses started to get congested again. Peh.. Headache returned.. So now I'm sitting on my favorite armchair, my feet upon the coffee table, and a warm mug of decaf green tea with mint and honey next to me.

As bad as my sinuses feel, the warmth of home and tea when it's white outside is priceless. My fingers on the keyboard and my cat curled around my neck - even better. It's time to go to bed, with my fake fireplace on my tv, but real warmth inside. Now if only my nose stops bothering me..

Tango Argentino

Another tango festival is over.. This one marks my one year anniversary of Argentine tango. I remember last year, at the same festival, I was an antsy newbie volunteering at the door, barely able to dance. It was only 3 weeks since I started tango and all I wanted was to be able to carry on for one tanda decently without falling. I didn't think I was good enough even to take any of the workshops. What a mistake. I didn't know back then that I had wasted a great opportunity.

One year and I have been to three local, three out-of-town festivals, one workshop weekend plus another that I myself organized. 

Tango is like that, it takes you in without you realizing, you look back after one year and can't believe how big of a part tango had in your year past. I did this facebook thing at the end of last year, this one app basically makes a cool looking ppt slide with a random collage of your statuses in that year. My collage was full with tango, from the beginning till the end. 

Tango is just like that. It sucks you in so well that, you start dancing at noon, take 3 full workshops and bust your ass, stay for practica although you know your feet need rest, but you still dance. Your calves and your abs ache to accompany your feet. You go home for a quick shower and change of clothes, and you show up at the milonga. You dance non-stop only taking a break to watch performances for 15 minutes, and you go again. Midnight comes and passes, you are still on your feet. You still didn't have enough. This milonga ends, you wear all your winter outerwear, take your shoes and drive off to the other studio for the all-nighter. This is the best part. Only the passionate crowd remains, nonetheless remaining a crowd. You dance the night away. Your feet throb with pain, but you don't care. When the morning approaches, you drive home, after 18 hours of dancing, your feet hurt even when it touches the gas pedal. You are tired, but also incredibly happy and full of energy. You can't wait for the next day's workshops.

The best milonga in a festival for me is always the welcome milonga. Everyone is eager to dance, although many has just arrived from out of town, although the past week's stress and busy schedule only ended a few hours ago, the energy in the room is immense. I've always had my best dances on Fridays. Sundays are nice, too. After a full weekend of workshops and the high-end Saturday milonga, the atmosphere on Sundays is much less tense, people are more casual, floor is less crowded, dancing is relaxed. You can actually cabaceo for a change. 

Tango is such an interesting culture. It is old school. It is sexy, it is flirty, it is extremely flattering to the woman. You are being cared for, being hold close, being protected. But it is also very macho. The guy never comes and asks you to dance. No push-overs, no tipping on the shoulders. The guy only makes eye contact. If you'd like to dance, you reciprocate, and both of you meet at the dance floor. If you don't, the guy just turns his eyes away from you, and his ego is protected. No one has to know.

This is cabaceo.

The beauty of Argentine tango lays in so many layers of its culture. First of all, it's a social dance, which means, there are no competitions, no show, no stage. You dance for yourself. You go to a milonga, you don't need to know anybody. You can dance with total strangers. It is spontaneous. No formulas, no routines, no counting steps, no choreography. Every step is for it's own joy, every step can lead to every other step. As the lady, you only know the step you're taking at that moment. You live the moment. You connect with a stranger in a subtle but well spoken body language and let the music take you both over. And that is Tango Argentino.

I slept much less and worked much more this weekend, yet still danced all the time in between. Normally I skip a few things every festival, go to the milongas late, and rest in between. This time, I was in charge of setup and decorations, so I had to be there first, and had to leave last. I also hosted a very dear-to-my-heart couple for the festival. And I did not sit my butt down for a second - I danced non-stop. 

So here I am, on a Monday, after a full festival followed by a full day of work plus school, my feet still throbbing, but I'm mad because I couldn't go to the good-bye milonga - it overlapped with my school work. 'Coz it doesn't matter how exhausted you are. When you hear tango music, you stop hearing what your feet tells you... you only hear your heart. You dance.

Friday night with NM