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Dancing in FlipFlops

I turned up to my first Tango lesson in flipflops. Tango afficiandos (esp the female ones) will probably recoil in horror because a flipflop to a pair of Comme Il Faut's are the equivalent of Loubatins to Phua Chu Kang's yellow construction worker rubber rainboots. A Flip-flop is aptly name for the name it makes, a "flip" and a "flop". A total opposite to the purpose of a Tango shoe.

Needless to say I've progressed from there.

Tango was something that I imagined as it has been portrayed in countless movies, the erect backs, the rose between the teeth, the opposite facing individuals, the constant dum-dum-dum-da-dum-dum beat heavy music as the dancers not so much glided as stomped whirlingly across a floor, heads snapping dramatically.

Such a case of mistaken identity.

In the short time I've been dancing, Tango has brought awkwardness, pain, joy, anticipation, trepidation and above all an obsessive compulsion for all things tango, all the time. My vocab has expanded to include exciting terms as Boleos, Ganchos, Sacadas and Ochos. But all I've had is 1/10 of the appetizer, it's a full course dinner for sure. Hopefully this first post will remind me that this is just the first step of a never-ending journey.

Now to work for those SHOES!
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