First what it’s first: walk using the metatarsus.

[This is the attempt of an English version for my blog. So, I’m sorry for my mistakes and I hope in despite of the language difficulties you enjoy reading it.]

I have never been good at starts. Letters, apologies, love confessions…all of these situations where someone is waiting for me to make a point makes me nervous. But one of the things that I remember didn’t make me nervous when I first started, is tango dance. That’s why it didn’t occur to me a better way to start this blog of stories about tango and milonga universe, than with the memories of my first steps.
I arrived to a gym that had tango classes every Saturday at seven of the afternoon. I walked through the noisy place full of sweated people and “electronic” music. And finally I found a room with wood flour and mirrors. When the teacher opened the door, I heard the rhythm of a tango and a singer’s voice that I can’t remember know.
And that’s how it started. I was fifteen, and I was wearing a red giant shirt, with old sneakers on my feet.
All these got me thinking how lucky I was to find tango. Because I can assure you, once you have met this melancholic witness, there is no coming back.
Once I was talking to a tango DJ that I really appreciate, and he told me that he had two sons: one that had followed his steps and was a tango DJ too, and other that didn’t liked tango. And at the end, he said to me: “Well, you know, tango gets into your life, or it just doesn’t”. And it’s so true! there is no grey area, -and with this I don’t mean that everybody should quit their jobs and just dance or listen to tango-, but nobody that really fell in love with tango can go back and act like that love never existed.
That’s another thing that I love about tango, the way that gets and grows in people. Everybody has their history. Some know tango because of their families, life partners, necessity, broken hearts, or even just by chance.