Reflections on My New Tango Home

Since moving to this city, I’ve been dancing at this particular milonga for about two years. The dance floor is a rectangular space, approximately 45 feet long and 30 feet wide. Typically, around 40 to 50 people gather here—mostly seasoned tango dancers in their 50s, 60s, and 70s, with a few younger or less experienced participants. The gender ratio hovers around 27 men to 23 women, which puts men at a slight disadvantage. Interestingly, a couple of women prefer to lead, and most men avoid dancing with these female leaders, further exacerbating the shortage of followers.

Most of the women are familiar with the cabeceo, although a few are not—and these ladies tend to receive fewer invitations (see Women’s Role in Cabeceo). Apart from a handful, most people dance in a traditional close embrace, and dancers with different styles rarely partner up. Overall, this milonga has an above-average dance level, which I really appreciate. However, the sense of community could be warmer. In America, this isn’t unusual—people come here to dance, not necessarily to form deep connections. By contrast, in Buenos Aires, a group of people who dance together regularly will quickly develop close bonds.

I dance regularly with most of the women here, though there are a few I haven’t danced with—not because I don’t want to, but because they haven’t shown any interest. My rule is simple: I only dance with women who are friendly and open to dancing with me. If someone acts dismissive, I don’t ask them to dance. I’m not entirely sure why some women seem aloof. Do they have particularly high standards? Do they only dance with fixed partners? Do they think that invitations are only a man’s job? I try not to assume the worst because I believe most people are kind at heart. One possible explanation is that they are socially inexperienced or lack cabeceo skills. Regardless, I have my principles, and since I’m not short on partners, I haven’t danced with them yet (see Tango Etiquette: Eye Contact, Talking, Clique and Hierarchy).

The tango community in this city is sizable, and this milonga—with its experienced dancers—frequently attracts visitors. However, these visitors rarely return, perhaps due to the lack of a warm and welcoming atmosphere I mentioned earlier. I’ve visited a few other local milongas as well, but the pattern is similar—dancers tend to avoid engaging with newcomers, so I didn’t stay either. It’s a common issue, and I believe there is room for improvement. Some possible solutions might include encouraging people to greet each other before the dance begins, providing cabeceo education, prompting everyone to dance at least once with someone new, or requiring dancers to rotate partners during the first tanda after the break. These small changes could help break the ice and foster a more inviting environment (see Tango Is a Fellowship).

To me, a great milonga rests on three essentials: a friendly atmosphere, skilled dancers, and good music. There are several DJs play here, most of them stick to classic tango hits from the Golden Age. While a few have unique tastes that don’t always align with mine, most DJs strike a good balance in their selections. Overall, I’m satisfied with the music here, though I think the selection quality could still improve to make this milonga even better. It’s not about novelty—it’s about choosing tracks that are great for dancing. The more classic and familiar the music, the better—this is akin to playing musical instruments, where well-loved pieces often resonate best with both players and listeners. I don’t understand why Pugliese is rarely played here. Given the experience level of the dancers here, including more Pugliese could be a thoughtful—and welcome—touch (see My Two Cents on Music Selection).