Enzo Palombi
He was born in Ciociaria, in one of Italy’s most beautiful villages, and already in his teenage years became a citizen of the world.
He travelled, learned a new language – actually, more than one – chose an unusual job – thrilling, adrenaline-fueled, dangerous – and kept circling the globe. He did it eight times over, but still wasn’t dancing tango.
He did meet a lot of people, though. Tons of them.
Often getting close in ways that were… unusually thrilling and dangerous.
Still, the endless stream of humanity he had to deal with kept feeding his natural gift for connection.
On one of his trips to Cuba – this time for pleasure – he discovered salsa (or rather, son) and became an unstoppable dancer.
But still, no tango.
Luckily, that unusual job of his eventually took him to a milonga.
He knew nothing about tango – had never even seen it – but he spoke many languages, and he could dance.
So… who gets sent to a milonga for work, just because they speak languages and know how to move?
Exactly – what kind of “unusual” job would it be otherwise?
He’d been tracking someone for a while – so much turning, so much following – that destiny (disguised as his ‘target’) finally led him there. He arrived at the door, couldn’t avoid it, stepped inside. The music took over, but he had to stay focused.
Acting indifferent, he moved forward. Gave the room a casually distracted glance – yes, there he was, he’d spotted him. Watched him with intent. The music played (he wishes he remembered which orchestra was on the console – maybe Rodríguez? not sure). In front of the milonga’s barra, he ordered a fernandito (he remembered it from Buenos Aires – never liked it much, but knew tango dancers did).
He moved between tables like a real milonguero, cocktail in hand and already wearing dance shoes (luckily, that night he had soles on his shoes!): he was ready for the next tanda (even though back then, he had no idea what tandas or cortinas were).
And now?
Sitting at the table, the fernandito nearly gone, he didn’t know how to dance and had to stay put.
He ordered dinner.
The music changed – they played some rock’n’roll… then it changed again, and went back to what it was before.
“Nice!” he thought. “This music is beautiful!”
He couldn’t dance. He had to stay. Had to stay focused (he still remembers the only upside of that moment, and smiles when he tells the story: “I felt watched – a lot of women were looking at me, intensely”… but yes, had to stay focused).
He ate with appetite, but kept one eye on the plate and one on the table to his right – or, when the guy stood up to dance, one eye on the plate and one on the dancefloor.
Dinner ended. He glanced around, called a waiter near the entrance – had to order something else… had to stay, without getting distracted.
Meanwhile, the music stopped. A man with a moustache and a microphone stepped onto the floor, thanked the dancers, the DJ, the staff, and announced the next milonga night – the following Sunday – and a beginner’s class starting on Thursday, same place…
And then the waiter arrived, and behind him – she appeared. Just arrived. His salvation.
The woman who would become the passe-partout to the future of that important mission (though in that moment, he had no idea his life was already changing – had already changed, in fact).
Kisses, hugs, introductions, small talk. Along with other friends, they were invited to the table – three seats free, and in these situations, a group is always very very convenient: more people to watch, more eyes to keep track!
With Malena, Gricel or Ivonne – we’ll call her one of those, because it just fits – he’d sign up for the Thursday beginner class, and come back to that milonga every Sunday.
He would later arrest his target, later fall in love with Malena, Gricel or Ivonne, and keep learning, keep dancing…
Since then, he never stopped.
He’s been dancing tango since 2009.
