Last Tango in Buenos Aires
It's my last week in Buenos Aires. I just had my last tango lesson, and I'm making the final rounds saying au revoir to my friends.
I've had people ask me if I'm sad to leave. Oddly, I'm not. I'm excited. Don't get me wrong—words can't describe what the months I've spent here have meant to me. But it's time to move on to the next adventure. I'm looking forward to the future. There's more travel involved, and just a little bit of intrigue. You'll have to stay tuned for the details.
Sneaky of me, isn't it? But it's not like you're surprised.
But first, I'm returning to San Francisco. The main reason: I'm speaking at the San Francisco Writers Conference. To say I'm looking forward to the gig would be an understatement. I attended last year's conference as a speaker and it rocked.
The conference goers are a mix of fiction writers of various genres as well as nonfiction. The speakers are diverse and interesting, and it draws a number of big name editors and agents, who are totally accessible the entire weekend. For example, last year, I met Donald Maass, who, contrary to what I'd believed, isn't seven feet tall with lightning bolts shooting from his eyes.
My favorite part of the conference: the cocktail parties. Okay—the cocktail parties are my favorite part of any conference. I can't help it. I love to schmooze, especially martini in hand. Yes, recess was my favorite subject in school too.
The conference itself is sold out this year, but there's a pre-conference day of workshops if you're in the area and interested. If you're there, find me and say "Yo." I'll be the jet-lagged one who keeps slipping into Spanish.
Finding Perfection
This is the week.
Which week? you wonder. What's happening?
I'll tell you what's happening: I'm buying my first pair of tango shoes.
This is the part where you scratch your head in wonder. You didn't know I danced tango. You thought I did kung fu.
I've been holding out on you. Unless you follow me on Twitter—then you've seen a couple random tango references. But I'm telling you now: I've been taking tango lessons.
Tango isn't so different from kung fu. Same principles, different application. I'm using the dance to work on the couple ideals I was trying to perfect in my fighting (like being in the moment, and feeling a person's energy). Plus, I'm in Buenos Aires—you'd have to be crazy to come here and not take at least one tango class.
But you don't care about all that. You want to get to the real important issue here: the shoes.
There are several well-known tango shoe store in town, but the most famous are Comme Il Faut and Greta Flora. Handmade, beautiful, unique shoes.
I've been to both stores so many times in the past couple months that they know my name, my preferred heel height, and the colors I like. I don't have to do anything anymore—I sit down and they bring me shoes. The shopping experience is very 50s/Doris Day-esque.
Only so far I've just bought shoes for my sister. Three pairs—who's the lucky girl? But now it's my turn.
This is the week. The perfect pair is waiting for me to claim it as mine. I can't wait to meet it.