The Tangled Tango

I didn't really sleep well after my All Blacks celebration.  Somehow I manage to stagger to the shower and shave.  The razor blade sounds like a buzz saw crossing my face.  I feel like shit and look even worse.

Today is my Tango lesson and I can't miss the class it is already booked and my Tango friends would be disappointed.  For a brief moment I contemplate knocking on the Potter's door and feebly excusing myself .  A deep rooted Canuck pride prevents me from doing the sensible thing, besides I can hear them up and wandering around.  Oh my head hurts - shit.

I am ready early and wander in front of the house pacing back and forth aimlessly, trying not to be ill.  The air feels good but I can't look at, let alone eat any food.  I swear off drinking for at least a fortnight (as the Tui beer ads say "y'ah right") as I rub my throbbing temple my overnight bag slung over my shoulder, I make a pathetic sight in the early morning light.  The Potter's take me to the bus I feel like a son saying goodbye to my Mum and Dad they have been wonderfully helpful and now wait patiently with me for the bus.  I bid them farewell, thanks, cheers see you guys in a week. 

The bus glides over the rolling hills as the highway cuts a path to Featherstone I repeat my mantra "I will not be sick - it works.  I find myself standing on the platform at the train station, my suitcase feels like I am carrying a lead weight, my head feels worse the sunglasses help a bit. 

In a couple of hours I am in Welly once again, the sun is shinning and I feel better but dead tired.  I can't help but wonder how the Maori warriors, Sam and Wolly are faring this morning.  I straggle along the stunning waterfront boardwalk, the beauty lost on me my only goal is to get thee to the Nomad's Hostel and a bed.  A couple of hours sleep will see me right.  Check in isn't for several hours but the bloke at the front desk takes one look at my pathetic washed out face and gives me the room card.  I collapse on the bed fold myself into a neo-natal position and drift off to sleep.  Bliss is mine.  Two hours later my head still reminds me I hurt my brain last night but I throw on my sports jacket, leather shoes, pinch my cheeks and bravely face the day, okay the afternoon. 

The Tango is a storied dance unlike any other rumoured to have started in the brothels of Buenos Aries it is a dance of concentration, serious foot work and body language.  I meet up with Jane of the Tango we grab a bite at Fidel's on Cuba St. and are off to my first lesson.  Sarah a beautiful young gal in her very early 20's works with me to school me in the basics of the Tango. 
"Don't look at your feet Steve look at my chest and lean in"  She innocently coaches.
"Are you kidding me Sarah, as a high school teacher I have been trained to look anywhere but there"  I reply gap mouthed.
"Right here Steve look at my chest not your feet"  She insists.
With a shrug I give in and we start to sway, after a few moments I begin to get the basic idea of the dance and then the lesson is over.  We head back to Jane's house in the hills for a bite to eat before the dance that evening.  As the ladies get ready I clean up the kitchen.  They are dressed to kill, I quickly realize a big part of the Tango is getting natty and dressing to the nines.  My golf shirt, airline wrinkled sport jacket and creased slacks pale by comparison.  We pack into Jane's little car and snake down the hillside to the centre of the city.  Hillside slips challenge even the most veteran of drivers.  Slips are mudslides which crumble to the road from the steep mud cliffs that surround the city.  Hair pin turns and sudden swerves are all part of the fun as we barrel down the narrow streets.

My role for the evening is to be photographer so I hide in a corner and snap picts.  I am too inexperienced to dance as the male always leads in the Tango the lady provides the panache and glitz.  The hall is dimly lit proving to be a major lighting challenge for my camera.  I am in illustrious company, an Oscar winner who doesn't mix film talk with Tango nights - darn!  A legislative legal eagle who drafts legislation writing current laws for the government and an award winning novelist who writes speeches for high ranking government officials.  It is all about the Tango though, and these folks are serious.  There is no idle conversation while dancing, bodies sway and partners lean in to each other.  One chap likes the fancy moves, the next shuffles slowly across the floor partner in tow.  A woman traces the outline of her partners leg up to his thigh, a foot flick, a knee bend and definitely no smiles which puts some people off the Tango. 

One of our Tango group, Suzanne drops the hint that a newly minted Tango student might like to give it a whirl.  I hesitate and develop a sudden attack of nerves. 
"I think I'll wait thanks"  I hide behind my camera and snap more picts.  The little voice from deep in my gut questions my rationale  What is wrong with you a beautiful woman just asked you to dance and you chickened out shame on you, an imaginary finger wags in my face.
After a long period of contemplation I screw up my courage and ask Suzanne if she could show me a few steps.  A chap that is with her offers his take on my dilemma.
"That's the stuff mate just move your feet, it's no that hard" 
Fated words to be sure but I take the leap and we slip on to the floor, she guides me through the dance.  I am a wreck by the end but I didn't step on any toes, however I don't get asked again hmmmm.  I assume my role as camera geek one I easily don to suit the moment.  The evening ends without the newbie doing any further damage to the storied dance.

As we walk back to the car Jane asks me if I like staying at the hostel.  I tell her it is affordable but that it's not comfortable with doors slamming at all hours of the night coupled with the fact that you never know who your are rooming with.  She asks if I would like to stay at her place.  Suddenly I am not longer staying in the bowels of the city in a co-ed dorm room with a bunch of people at party central.  Instead I will wake up to a breathtaking view of the harbour and city.  Tomorrow I head off to the South Island but for now I am revelling in the peace and quiet of my new digs.  Thank God for the Tango.