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| YOU CAN DANCE STUDIO |
| Tango Travel Journals MONTREAL - PART II |
| Woke up late, Montreal is three hours ahead of us. Wandered downstairs for breakfast and coffee. Great coffee, great service. Went back upstairs to shower and change into street clothes. Put on my most favorite pair of shoes these days, my Bloch dance shoes. I knew I would be walking around downtown and wanted to save my feet for my lessons and dancing later in the day and evening. I left the hotel, crossed the street, walked a quarter of a city block and found my first shoe store. I took it as a sign and went in. Turned out to be a drag queen shop. Most of the shoes only came in sizes way too big for me. However, I did find a pair of fabulous red shoes that they let me have CHEAP because they were so small and the last pair. Now my feet are not that small, but compared to most men... I stepped out of the shoe store looked in the window of the shop next door and it was a tango slut shop. To make a long story short after killing an hour and I had only gotten half a block away from my hotel, I knew I was going to have to get ahold of myself. I was on St. Catherine street and it is packed with interesting shops. The clothes are very European and the shoes are to die for. Mostly Italian and way, way, too expensive to justify. ($400 a pair!) Long, drippy sleeves are popular in the shops. We will probably start seeing them here on the West coast in six months. My favorite moment in all of the shops was when I walked into this clothing store and a young man came to me and said, "May I help you, Madam?" I said I was looking for Tango clothes. He said, "Argentine Tango?" I said, "Yes!" He said, "I dance Argentine Tango." I said, "Fabulous! Let's dance!" I dropped by bags, started taking off my coat and the young man, with a frightened look on his face, said, "Madam! Madam!" He looked nervously around and said, "I cannot dance here." I told him about Hit & Run. That didn't help because he was still looking nervous. That encounter was fun. So I get back to the hotel after walking on concrete for hours and realize I may have fatigued my feet and legs too much given the rest of my day (private lesson, classes, and dancing). I had read that one could get a massage in the hotel. I had never gotten a massage at a hotel, my legs and feet were hurting, and with the exchange rate being so good, I thought, "Why not?" Went to the pool and asked if it was possible to schedule a massage, the girl said, the masseuse was right there, had a cancellation, and if I could do it immediately, it was available. I said, "Sure." The masseuse (Henri) was this young, attractive-looking man, and very polite. I was handed two towels and said the massage would begin shortly. I stood there for a few minutes and began to wonder if I was suppose to go somewhere. I asked the girl and she said, "Oh, no, he is just brushing his teeth." Now, I'm thinking, "Whut? (Imagine a Texas accent)" I thought to myself, oh well, it is just part of the big adventure. I got a GREAT massage. I go straight from the massage to the hotel bar. Henri told me to drink plenty of fluids after the massage. I order a marguerita, on the rocks, no salt and wait for my friends. The reason I went to Montreal is that my friend, Maureen, was graduating with her Masters from the University of Vermont. She lives 90 minutes south of Montreal. She was due to arrive with two of her friends (a nurse and a psychic) at any minute. Finished my drink and went upstairs to get ready for my lesson with Cecilia Gonzalez. My friends were in the room! So we all head back downstairs to the bar. A major topic of our conversation was "withholding." Withholding in relationships, withholding in sex, withholding in our lives and witholding within ourselves. This subject came up repeatedly in the next hours during my tango lessons... At the lesson I met one of the instructors. While dancing with me he started saying, "You're leaving me." Of course, he said it in a beautiful French accent. Anyway, I did not understand what he was talking about. He kept saying it. I kept not understanding. Finally, I asked him if he woudl let me lead him so he could demonstrate to me what I was doing. I was shocked. I was pulling away from him, constantly. I was withholding myself. The difference between him being "with me" and "withholding from me" was a fraction of an inch of lean. My whole dancing changed after this. My whole tango life and life in general changed after this experience. |