I Heart Argentina....parte tres

I'm back for yet another installment of "I Heart Argentina....parte tres".  I'm your host, Vallazza-Raptor.

Though it's been almost two years since I've been back to Argentina, I remember many of its attributes quite fondly.  (sigh...)

I forgot what number I was on in my last installment, but for times sake, I'll just continue with the #7.

7) Los Boliches
Los Boliches are what Argentines call their night clubs.  I've only been to a few, but that's all I need to know. They also call their clubs "el disco" but I prefer "Los Boliches".  The night life in Argentina doesn't get started until 2 a.m. or after.  It saddens me that the U.S. is missing out on this type of nightlife because last call is usually at 1:30 a.m. in a place like Jacksonville.  It's no wonder that most other people think American's are boring...we don't get the party started.  Latinos, however, could party all the way until the sunrise!  I know this for a fact because I did it many times in Costa Rica and in Argentina, but I also had the dubious pleasure of accompanying someone until the wee morning hours of daylight in a small beach town in Argentina called "Monte Hermoso".

As I was saying, while the club doesn't open until 2 a.m., but the real fun doesn't start until 3 or 4 in the morning.  That's when the club starts hopping. You're there, packed with numerous amounts of people, almost to the point of claustrophobia, dancing...sweating...getting into close quarters with people you didn't know existed until five seconds ago. It's marvelous, really.

I went to several places in Bahía Blanca, Argentina, as well as the surrounding cities in December 2012.  My friends took me to Monte Hermoso, a nice little beach town that has the fame of being the only city in Argentina where the beach has both a sunrise and sunset on the water. It's really a beautiful little town.  In any case, they took me to a place called "El Pelícano" (The Pelican) at 1 a.m. and my friend, her husband and I all danced with one another until the place closed.  However, I did end the night dancing with a beautiful man who ended up whisking me away to another club down the street until the sun rose...it was a great night...or morning...  I shall call him Señor J.  We ended up dancing all night, through the morning until he dropped me off at my friends beach house at 9 a.m..  We made out passionately like teenagers...it was pretty nice. ;) Not sure I want a repeat with him, but like I've mentioned before, I don't allow just ANYONE to make it past first base with me unless there's potential.

In the boliches, you dance to whatever music is popular in Argentina, which is typically cumbia villera, or whatever Argentine rock band is popular. There are some even American Top 40 hits that they play on the airwaves in Argentina.  I quite enjoy cumbia of any sort, but I think cumbia villera now has a soft spot in my heart as well. My dad hates it. He prefers cumbia colombiana.  What can I say? I like accordeon/bandoneon music and I'm nerdy that way.

The last time I went to Argentina in July 2013, I went to a Cuban boliche.  Though I'm not Cuban, I do and have associated more with Cubans than I have my own background. Perhaps it's because my sister has been married to a Cuban for the last 24 years or so. I like Cuban food and I like their style of dancing to salsa and merengue.  In any case, I heard about my fellow compadres having a Cuban restaurant in Argentina and that they played salsa, so naturally I had to go sample the food and dance to the music.

I felt like a celebrity once I arrived!

I requested a few merengues from the DJ. The lady stared at me, and asked, "De dónde eres?" (Where are you from, using the "tú"form.) I smiled and said I was from Florida.  She immediately announced to the guys behind the bar that I was from Miami and that I had come to dance for the night.  I was instantly plied with free mojitos and all the merengue and salsa I wanted, because when "you're from 'Miami', you're instantly Cuban"...Although I'm not Cuban and I'm actually from or live in Jacksonville. I lacked no dance partners at all that night.  It was nice because I could dance without having to worry about being pawed upon.  I just went to dance, and dance I did!  I closed the restaurant down there as well at 6 a.m..  Truly a wonderful experience.

This is not to say that I am a party animal either in the States. I just simply like to dance. I enjoy music. I enjoy meeting people. I don't like close quarters. I sometimes get social anxiety if I feel there's too many people someplace.

If you go to Argentina, I recommend going at least once to the disco/boliche.  They can be pretty fun. Though take some TP.  The toilet paper is thin or sometimes non-existent in the bathrooms at the boliches.

I went with my friend's brother and his friends once and since I was the "Yanqui" I was also instant celebrity and given free drinks.  The bartender thought I was pretty, but I was not interested. But he still kept the drinks coming!  We stayed out until 7 a.m. that night. :)

8) El acento.
Oh, my goodness...the first time I ever heard any Argentine speak was through the speakers in my dad's Oldsmobile station wagon. I was 4 and listening to my father's recordings of tango as we drove around Kansas City.  I noticed they spoke Spanish differently than what I was used to hearing.  I had actually heard tangos for years, but never really noticed their accent until then. I asked my dad, "Porque hablan diferente?"  Why do they speak funny?

"Porque son argentinos," he replied.

At four years old, I had no idea what Argentines were, nor that there was a country named Argentina.  All I knew was that I liked the way they sang and that their tango was sexy.  Of course, I didn't know what "sexy" meant either, but now as an adult, I recognize that I was turned on by Argentines from a very early age.

Fast forward to my early college years, beginning in 2001.

I was beginning to have more of an interest in my Hispanic backgrounds.  I was taking a class called "Introduction to Latin America" at Johnson County Community College.  I remember there being this beautiful man in my class that I liked staring at.  I would get embarrassed whenever he caught me staring at him.  Whenever he opened his mouth, he spoke English with the most beautiful accent. I finally brought up the courage to ask him where he was from one day before class as we waited out in the hallway.

"I am from Argentina," he said, with his beautiful accent emerging from that beautiful mouth.

I got shivers down my spine...and into my core...goosebumps emerged.

True, in 1996, I had seen "Evita" in the theatre as Madonna sang and danced her way onto the streets of Buenos Aires.  There had been a kerfuffle amongst Argentines against the idea that Madonna was going to be playing one of their more revered historical characters.  Having Madonna portray Eva Perón was like saying that Steppenwolf would be playing Mariachi music at the presidential inauguration for Clinton. I even did a report on Evita in 10th grade where I got a 100%. Woot woot.

Anyways...I digress...Back to the hot Argentine in my class...

When he spoke Spanish in class, I about melted.  I had never heard anyone use "Vos" for "you".  I had only grown up with "tú" or "Usted".  As well as, "sos" for "you are" instead of "eres".  It was all so mysterious. It was then that I discovered that not all Spanish speakers speak the same Spanish. I knew there were slight differences because my mom speaks Mexican Spanish and my dad Ecuadorean, but I never thought about the even bigger differences between the continents or even regions within one's country.  I was only 18, so I didn't know.

I hungered to find more of these people!

For the above mentioned class, I elected to do a report on the tango. Who knew better information about the tango than my dad?!  My grandfather knew a lot as he had lived with uncles in Buenos Aires in the 1920s. But my grandfather had passed away in 1997, so I couldn't ask him.

Papi had all sorts of tango songs which I promptly downloaded.  I had grown up listening to many of the old tangos that were played on the airwaves in Buenos Aires back in the 1930s.  Singers such as Carlos Gardel, Julio Sosa, Argentino Ledesma, etc...I knew a lot of those songs. Their accents and the lyrics made me melt!  There's even a movie that is one of my favorites called "Tango, no me dejes nunca".  I have watched that movie so many times over and over again. I love the music, dancing and the script. Beautiful.

One time, I was out with The Girlies - Toaster Oven and Squeak Rodriguez, when I was tapped on the shoulder by a very handsome man. He asked me to dance. So we did and I discovered that he was from Argentina because he winked at me and said, "Qué hermosa sos!".

I about died...

"Stop it! My underwear is melting!" I exclaimed.  I told him that I loved his accent.  He continued to say that I was beautiful.  Alas...I was in a relationship at that time, so I wouldn't have done anything further but dance with him, but his accent was divine and dreamy.

The same thing can be said when I actually go to Argentina. I actually enjoy sitting in the café listening to the people talk with one another. It's like "People Watching" but more of "Listening".  I love doing it.

"Hola ché!  Cómo andas?" they say with sing-song quality.

"Bien, mi amor. Cuándo venís a la Argentina?" (Fine, my love. When are you coming to Argentina?) they'll ask.

"Cuándo vos quieras" (Whenever you want)

I developed a mini crush on some of the men in Argentina when I go visit simply because of the way they speak. One male friend in particular knows this and will just speak to me while I develop goosebumps on arms. He is such a tease...jerk... lol.

I've always said that I may end up with an Argentine just because I love the way they speak. Who knows if that will still be true?

9) La Plata
The name "Argentina" is actually derived from the Latin word, argentum, meaning "Silver".  On the periodic table of elements, it has a symbol of "Ag".  Silver is one of the most important metals in the world. In any case, the country Argentina got its name because of the myth and subsequent discovery of the mountains being made of silver.  In fact, the most important river in Argentine economy, "Rio de la Plata", was thus named because when Argentina was first discovered by European discoverers, it looked like a ribbon of silver running through the countryside.  I personally dislike the English translation of the river, 'River Plate'.  I think of actual fine-bone China plates, not "plate" as in "silver plate".  I prefer "Silver River".

Whatever...

The point I'm trying to make without having to digress through numerous historical facts is that Argentina's silver trade is lovely.

The first time I went to Argentina, I purchased a pair of simple silver hoop earrings.  Alas, I lost one in the back seat of a car only last fall.  The owner of the car found the earring, but has declined to return it to me unless I go back out and date him again.  To which I say, "poo", cause that jazz isn't happening ever again.  He was so boring...I digress yet again.

The silver is so abundant in Argentina. The silver smiths have done some tremendous work on their jewelry. I love all the pieces that I've garnered from the jewelry shops there, though I still want my earring back...

GRRR....

I'll just have to travel to Argentina once more to get another pair. :)

Just think!  My friends will have fun with that fact. I'll get to go back and visit my fellow Argentines again soon. :)

My Foray into Latin Dancing...Part One

Dancing is like second nature to me.

Look for the woman wearing a brightly colored dress in the middle of the dance floor.  Yep...that's me! Shaking absurdly, It often looks as if I have an electrical current flowing through my veins.

Electricity pulses through my body as I hear the music.  Immediately getting goosebumps, my limbs begin to move to the music.  Putting on a song,  I shiver when I hear the familiar strains of salsa, merengue, bachata, reggaetón, cumbia or tango. I put on my high heels. I slink into a sexy dress. I begin to dance around my living room. I look amazing, dancing by myself, with my inner Latina Goddess rhythm.

I first discovered Latin music as a child. Actually, I shouldn't say that I "discovered" it.  It was actually played incessantly throughout my childhood in Kansas on my dad's tape decks and record player.

My father, being Ecuadorean, usually played the music of his youth.  These were countless tangos by Gardel from Argentina,

 or cumbias by Lisandro Meza from Colombia,

or salsa by Celia Cruz from Cuba,

or merengues by Johnny Ventura from the Dominican Republic.

 He would put on his records and my sister Ro* and I would dance around the living room, in no particular fashion. The music moved us, as if we were marionettes held by invisible strings and our imaginary puppeteer maneuvered us through the room. My dolls would twirl in my arms as I danced.

As a child, I had no idea that there were sub-genres of Latin music. I thought it was all the same because they sang in Spanish.  It wasn't until I was older that I realized the differences in the music, therefore there would be an obvious difference with the style of dance.

By the time I came into existence in the early 1980s,  my parents were pretty much homebodies, having exhausted themselves in the 1970s to K.C. and the Sunshine Band and other forms of pop music.  They were quite content to watch the occasional Brasilian or Italian soap opera, or to read through the occasional stack of books from the library. The few family get-togethers that we attended including a mix of American music as well, like Donna Summer or Blondie, etc.

I didn't really learn how to really dance to Latin music until I turned 17. I was at a baptism for someone whose name that I don't even remember.  What I do remember is that they were Mexican and they played Mariachi music.  I don't mind listening to Mariachi music at all. They're actually kind of entertaining, with their big sombreros, their little costumes and them strumming on their guitars or honking their trumpets. Anytime I listen to mariachi music, I keep waiting for my chips and salsa to magically appear in front of me.

As I've mentioned before in previous blogs, my family make-up has allowed me to appreciate music of all genres from different countries. But listening to Mariachi music ALL NIGHT makes you appreciate a mix of other kinds of music after a long while.

They finally put on a merengue.  My dad said, "La saco para bailar."  Meaning, "I'm going to take her out on the floor for a spin"  (Keep in mind for those of you that think I've translated that phrase literally, get off the translation websites. They won't do you much good.)

I didn't get the moves correct, but my dad was patient with me for once.

Since that night when my dad took me out for a spin, I have had an insatiable hunger for Latin music and dance.

When I moved to Florida about 10 years ago, I didn't know a single soul.  To pay the bills and also to meet people, I worked at a small Cuban restaurant in Saint Augustine, FL as their "Hostess Extraordinaire", a moniker coined by the flamboyantly gay bartender, Moranti.   On Fridays and Saturdays, they had a live band that consisted of a guitarist, a congo player, a piano player, a saxophonist, a trumpeter and a singer. They had an open floor towards the stage and dancing would occur.

The Conga Player/Sometimes-Guitarist, was the owner's son who I shall refer to as "Junior", noticed me immediately. He began to teach me a few things here and there, initiating me into many things that could be considered useful & good, but some things most definitely not good.  He first noticed that I was a terrible dance partner.

"Baby, you have let the man lead!" he would yell at me.

I thought I was doing well, but apparently, any time he took me for a spin on the dance floor, it was just a jumble of arms, legs and footwork.  I looked like one of those twisty dolls with wire legs.

How was I supposed to know?  He was supposed to be teaching me how to dance upright on the dance floor.

In any case, once I dumped him, I began to go out with some of my friends that I had met in my Spanish classes at school.  To spare them from seeing their real names, I have affectionately bestowed upon them some nicknames.

Toaster Over and Squeak Rodriguez were two girls that I met at Flagler College during 2004-2006.

I met Toaster Over first.

We both were in a Spanish 101 class. I had no idea WHY I was even there. Didn't they know I was already a Spanish speaker? I was such a snob with such big ideas then.  Ha Ha!  It turns out that I would have to test out of Spanish 101 into the higher levels.

I mentioned this to a bunch of the other students there in my class. It was the second day of classes.

Toaster Oven immediately overheard me telling the others my plan.  She turned to me and said, "I have an aunt that is Puerto Rican. I love practicing Spanish with her. I should test out of this class, too."

I remember looking at this petite girl with wild auburn hair and thinking, "There is NO WAY that some little red-headed American is going to test out of this class and I'm stuck here!  Hell no!"

We both tested out of Spanish 101.  I placed higher, for Spanish 301, but since I had only grown up speaking Spanish, I wanted some of the grammar that I had missed. I had already taken French and Portuguese in high school and in junior college, respectively.  We both ended up in Spanish 201.

Throughout the year, Toaster Oven and I would collaborate on projects together. One such project had something to do with music.  She came over to my dorm room to work on our powerpoint together.  When she discovered that I had over 5000 songs on my laptop, she realized two things: A) I was cool because I had an iBook and B) I had lots of fun music that included lots of Latin music.

Thus began a friendship that continues to this day. Our project, which sadly has disappeared for lack of jump drives or the disappearance thereof, discussed the different genres of Latin music such as Son, Mambo, Merengue, Salsa, Bachata, Reggaetón, Tango and Cumbia, to name a few.

Over the summer in 2005, Toaster Oven went to Costa Rica for a study abroad trip and became close with one of the other girls on the trip, Squeak Rodriguez.

Now, I had seen Squeak Rodriguez before in some of my other classes during 2004-05.  She had been in my Intro to Mesoamerica class on Wednesday nights and in one other class that was as boring as the hills.  However, we never spoke to each other because A) I was oblivious to others because I was working four jobs at the same time and had no time to really socialize after class and B) I think she was shy or intimidated to approach a girl with pink hair.

Meanwhile, once school started back up in the fall, I kept my usual bump-n-grind of jobs.  One Saturday night, I was at home which never happened. I usually kept busy working my derriere morning, noon and night when I didn't have class, typically working all seven days of the week.  I get a phone call from a number I didn't recognize. I pick up and it's Toaster Oven!  "Ren! Do you want to go to Orlando with me tonight?" she asked.

What's in Orlando, other than Disney?

She explained that she was going to be meeting her friend in Orlando to go out dancing. She also explained that this was someone that she went to Costa Rica with over the summer, blah blah blah.

We ended up going to City Walk at Universal Studios.

They have a place, or at least, they used to if it's not still there, called "The Latin Quarter".  It's a restaurant that converts into a club after 9 p.m..  Food is great, music is great...it's amazing!

The friend we ended up meeting was none other than Squeak Rodriguez!

The three of us ended up having a great time with one another dancing all night long. Thus began a Three Musketeers type of friendship that also continues to this day.

Every weekend, without fail, the three of us would go to any place in the area that played Latin music.  We would go as far as Orlando, which was about an hour and fifteen minute drive on some Saturdays.  On Fridays, we'd drive up to Jacksonville and go to Havana Jax to dance all night long.

We'd get ready at each other's houses and leave early, around 9 p.m. as the clubs in North Florida close at 2 a.m..

The first time I went to Havana Jax on Atlantic Blvd., I was a disaster. The Girlies could hear me squealing with laughter when I'd mess up majorly with my dance partners.  But I wanted to be a better dancer and meet people, make friends, etc. I'd keep going to improve my dancing skills. On Thursdays, we'd go to the now defunct Twisted Martini, at the Jacksonville Landing. I miss that place. The bartenders, bouncers and DJ even knew who we were. We even made Dancing Friends with various males who would go to dance there. I still keep in touch with several of those guys today. :)

One thing I discovered after the age of 17 is that there are not only different genres, but also different styles of dance within that genre of dance.  There is Cuban style Salsa. There is Costa Rican style Cumbia. There is Dominican style Bachata.  There is a myriad of different styles and it's hard to keep up.  There are way more I could list here, but the list would be exhaustive.

My Ex and I met coincidentally at Havana Jax one night after having danced with the Girlies in 2006.  He constantly criticized my way of dancing, stating it was difficult to dance with me.  It was difficult to dance with him!  He would turn me left or right in the middle of a beat and then I'd tornado myself into the wall or people.

  It was awful. It's easy to blame people for their lack of leading skills, but I have to say he didn't know how to lead me very well.  We did dance bachata well together when we were a couple. I guess it's just as well that we are no longer together, whether it be for couple or dancing reasons. LOL.

Since I am also musically inclined, I keep track of the beats with my feet or my hands. I don't need to count them, as others do. Of course, if there's a fast tempo, I step up the pace...literally. I once went out dancing with The Girlies and there was a dance class.  One guy grabbed my hand and began dancing. The music was fast paced and my legs and hips immediately began to step in tempo with the beat. Well, the poor man counted aloud, slowly. I asked him what he was doing and he responded that he was trying to count on the ball change. I looked at him like he was nuts. I'm not a classically trained dancer. This is the part that is difficult for me. Trying to follow someone's lead when they're counting slowly against the beat is difficult.  More like, disastrous.

I think it's important that when there is a woman who is dancing with her male dance partner, that the man KNOW how to lead. Nothing sucks more than dancing with someone who can't lead.  I am the type of dancer who did not have professional instruction as I was learning. Therefore, I need a strong partner who knows what he is doing.

Stay posted for the next installment.