Tango in Via Macerata

Yes at 21.00h al punto, I entered the house next door to my lodgings, the centre of Roman Tango, and it was just that. A dimly lit large room, painted floor, photos of past and present Tango greats plastered around all the walls, even a large authentic poster of a 1950s Alan Ladd movie, dubbed in Spanish, about a wild Tango dancer.
I was warmly welcomed and the crowd increased fast, most seeming to know each other. A few were quite friendly, after all, I was a Tango afficionado, as they all were, or so they thought. Our teacher, an Italian girl, who could easily have been South American, was an absolute purist. This was NO queer Tango, but the pure essence, and the class, a free one for the Pigneto Festival, was for beginners. Maria, the teacher, spoke in hushed tones about the pure essentials of the Tango, the connection between the two people, how one read the other's thoughts and translated them into movement. We were asked to feel each other all over, and the woman who chose me said she was a little embarrassed. But no problems, we all did it, and more, but nary a Tango step was introduced till the very end when we were all exhausted.

I began to like our Tasmanian Tango even more. This one was NOT for me I decided. We finished about ten thirty, they went on to do a Milonga, the Tango 'Ceilidh', and then I left, to try and sleep the experience away.

The place was excellent, but I just didn't really fit in. So much for queer tango in Rome!

Post Script: two days later...
Sunday night on my return from Naples at about six o'clock, I decide to spoil myself and recover in a long cool bath, I needed it after the dirt and heat in the crammed second class train.
As I lie in the soothing water, I hear a familiar South American tune, it is the Tango Club next door doing a haunting melody. I decide to feel better and have a look. I hurriedly dry myself and throw on some 'tango' clothes, and pop in next door. It is open and the dance is in progress. It looks like the real thing so I stay and soon am walking, tangoesque, around the floor with many others, but this time with a statuesque woman who says in perfect Italian that she is 'americana'.
This is how I learned tango in Hobart. I am refreshed and encouraged. I stay an hour as fatigue sets in, after all, Naples has been quite a day.

Rome Tango Club.

Elektra, posing beautifully at my window.