A feeling

The clocks went back over the weekend and I remembered to adjust my watch, but not my mobile, with the result that I arrived for class at DNI Corrientes an hour early. Not a problem, as there’s nowhere lovelier to sit than their leafy, outdoor café with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. Sheltered from the afternoon sun by a breathable canopy, surrounded by potted climbers, creepers, shrubs, tango music spilling out of the adjacent studio (Musica – una fuerza de naturaleza is written on the wall and afileteado.) There is the option of watching a dancer being put through his paces in a private lesson, against the backdrop of a faux pergola overgrown with vine, painted on a tall green stained glass window, one of the most gorgeous features of the building.

It’s not called Buenos Aires for nothing. Being here does you good. I find that I wake up feeling repaired, refreshed. I get out of bed and stretch in front of the mirror and think, ‘Hello, you’ll do.’ I see longer lines and deeper dips in my body and don’t feel compelled to put on make-up when I go to milongas, whereas in London, I go out not so much made-up as embalmed.

I adore being here. DNI is more than just a school – it’s a community. DNI has an unusually high cuddly factor. Nowhere else do you find so many beautiful teachers, so likeable, funny and warm, so able to show you how to use your body to make beauty. Here, there are tango dogs that sometimes wander into the studios to watch. One of them barks to a waltz. Recently, there has been a new addition, a tango puppy. And there is a tango baby. On my last visit, she was a babe-in-arms. Now she toddles around placidly in her exerciser. These are important details. They give you the feeling.

I could just sit here and write poetry. All I have to write with is a blunt pencil and the paper my empanada was wrapped in, but needs must.