The beautiful caramel-skinned woman next to me brims with vibrancy and infectious good cheer. She and I have been chatting pleasantly all evening, whenever we are both sitting out. It is getting late, and the crowd at the milonga is thinning. This tanda, we both like the music for listening but not for dancing, so we wait it out.
She begins singing along with the music, although there are no words to the song. When I do a little accidental double-take, not certain what I'm hearing, she grins and leans closer to sing to me, with an exaggerated waggle of her eyebrows. I laugh and quietly join in. I don't think anyone hears us; we're not trying to be heard. We get adventurous and harmonize occasionally, both of us singing nonsense syllables, ba da da, dum dee da da da, until the final bum bum!
We giggle like children as the cortina begins.
Tonight will be my last ever milonga . . . - This is what she says each time she goes dancing: "Tonight will be my last ever milonga." But she says it with a smile. She makes the most of each "las...
1 week ago