By telling us your country of residence we are able to provide you with the most relevant travel insurance information.
Please note that not all content is translated or available to residents of all countries. Contact us for full details.
Shares
It is Friday night and in Buenos Aires the music flows like a river through the streets. I am in my room after a day spent wandering through the suburbs of the city. The intention to go out is vague until the Swiss girl known at a Tandem Language, Mara, blows me off. Doesn't matter, I didn't feel like going out anyway. However, the music of the "milonga" under the house (or exclusive discos for Argentine dances) resonates on the walls of my room tempting me like the smell of grandmother's lasagna. And I can't help it: the music calls and I answer. I get dressed and go "just to take a look", I tell myself. At the entrance I pay 120 Argentine pesos, the equivalent of 6 euros more or less. There is a large square dance floor crowded with people waving handkerchiefs in the movements of a popular dance that already makes me smile, while "tres caballeros" play the guitar and sing. I sit in a stool in a corner with the typical Argentine drink that is so fashionable, Cola and Fernet, enjoying that show. Not even five minutes and a man in his forties asks me to dance, embarrassed I answer "Disculpe, yo no sé bailar" (I am sorry, I cannot dance). But he insists and I still answer no, until with a seriousness that intimidates me for a moment, he asserts "Undanced music is wasted music", and how can I say no to him now? I follow him on the dance floor moving shy "ant'steps" in the midst of boys and old women capable of shaking parts of the body that I didn't think I had. But he doesn't seem to care, he takes my hands and says "Muevete Marga, muevete!" (Move Marga, move!). He has known me for five minutes and I am already "Marga". He introduces me to his friends, I dance with Ernesto, Sergio, Lazaro, Titanca, Ivan... God only knows what their names are. So I am introduced into the magical world of "Chacarera", the popular dance most loved by Argentines, or to be more exactly from the "porteños", the inhabitants of the capital. Because, they take care to specify, each province in Argentina has its favorite dance. So I let loose, without inhibition,"Heck, I'm in Buenos Aires! Who cares!". And I think that these people around me, of all ages, who dance without fear for the pure pleasure of having fun, really know how to enjoy life. I think that music is a serious thing in Argentina. You often hear about the typical passion and warmth of the people of Latin America but I swear, until you try it, maybe you can't fully understand what it means. And the best way to experience it is simply one: to dance. So I dance, even if I can't dance, and I enjoy all this happiness that surrounds me.