New Mexico Tango Ramblings
We awoke in the wilderness at 9,500 feet
We wound down mountain roads with the thought of aspen groves, their dinosaur trunks and Dr. Seuss tufts reaching for the blue sheet of a sky
A neon lettered sign tied with twine to the back of a red mini-van read CAUTION! Pilgrimage
Men and women carried wooden crosses and bright red and yellow silk flowers
What if our lady of Guadalupe danced tango?
In the basement of another arts center, the floor newly polished. Her molinettes would float, in her velveteen slippers each step prancing with cobble stoned hips under the cream shawl. Moving not too close to bald heads or beef fated bellies.
If Gandhi danced tango he would have danced close. His embrace not only an act of compassion, but a personal test.
My room for the night is smooth around the edges, adobe style architecture, and sparsely decorated with only a few items: wicker furniture, some draped fabric, pink and gloosy, turquoise bracelets and beads.
If there is one thing in common between this house and our other tango hosts it is the placement of the TV, hidden or subdued by a larger social gathering space.
Jenny's TV sleeps under a native woven table cloth next to Sheba, the constrictor snake that has already coiled up her 8 foot body for the night.
Forget Gray's Anatomy, Law and Order, or even The Food Channel, the heat lamp above her cage is the pacifier.
The final pondering before I fall asleep:
If Helen Keller danced tango what type of music would she dance to? Traditional or alternative?
Her feet would take in the vibrations, but would the sound of a recorded bandoneons vibrate differently than live ones? Would they shake her heart? Turn its rhythm around into an up-beat?
Sunday, June 10, 2007