Back to my roots

They say that when you get stuck in a dead-end street or lose direction, you should go back to square one and start over again. This applies to navigating actual roads but also to life in general, and I have always thought this a very sound advice.

Going abroad, I managed to continue working remotely in my old job. While everyone in my team is very supportive and the arrangement is pretty great, the remote circumstances sometimes put a damper on my work satisfaction. Lately, I have been thinking hard about my future professional life. And here the mentioned advice came into the picture. Having my professional roots in translation and sometimes missing this work during the years in the corporate world I threw out the net for available options.

Lucky bastard that I sometimes am, a chance opened up and I managed to land a translation contract with a publishing house that plans its programme way ahead and can therefore give its translators generous deadlines. On top of that, the books are on the slim side and manageable even with a daily office job.

After doing a sample translation to prove that I still have what it takes – I hadn’t worked as a translator for almost ten years – the editor seemed happy to have me on board and I started working on my book in July.

Boy, does it feel good to be back! After a slightly rusty start I am now enjoying transferring the emotional adventures of my romantic novel’s heroine into German. It is a wonderful addition to my slightly prosaic day job that - thanks to my moonlighting after-office hours – does not appear so prosaic anymore.

I didn’t really go back to square one and start over from scratch, but returned to my roots and managed to bring back the best part into the present. Sometimes, the secret is in the right mix. At least try it if you are stuck in a rut. Who says you should never look back? It worked out very well for me.

I'll keep you posted.

Fiesta Tanguera

The other day, Laura our tango teacher celebrated her birthday and we were invited. Not being familiar with the social protocols of the porteño party scene we were glad that a German friend and 7-year-veteran of life in Buenos Aires would be joining us.

At first, the celebrations weren’t so different from the ones at home. Okay, the party started at 22:30 which is a bit late for German standards – especially if you usually have to get up at six for an early start at the office. But we made up for it by being unfashionably early and helping carry up provisions and chairs to the flat a musician friend had offered Laura as the party location.

But we had just finished setting up the nibbles when the first guests started to arrive. I have already told you about this local kissing habit (read: Argentina: Land of affection), and so far the husband had managed to ward off most of the men. But the tango people are an even more affectionate bunch, so this evening he didn’t stand a chance and had to give in. Well, Picard, resistance is futile!

Bottles of wine were opened and introductions made, everyone started snacking on crisps, veggies & dips and other food that kept arriving with the guests. At midnight, Laura started heating up a big pot of Locro. Locro is a very hearty stew from the Salta region, and Laura had asked a colleague from work who is originally from the north to prepare this batch. I like Locro, and this one was really good.

Some time later, the lights were dimmed and in came the birthday cake with the burning candles. Accompanied by the traditional singing and clapping, Laura had to blow out the candles and make a wish. Not really so different from your regular birthday in other corners of the world, right? But this post doesn’t carry the headline “Fiesta Tanguera” for nothing.

After eating cake and another round of congratulations and kisses, the owner of the flat sat down at the piano, out came a guitar and a bandoneon, and the trio started to play a birthday vals. Following the milonga tradition, Laura first danced with her boyfriend and was then whirled around the room by every man at the party who at least knew the basic steps.

If I ever needed a reminder why I was taking tango classes this was a good one. To spend my birthday at a milonga one day and be stepped around the floor by different dancers, to be able to easily adapt to their individual style and enjoy the moment with the same happy smile that Laura had that evening … But I still have a long way to go!

After several repetitions of the birthday vals it was time for a break and a change of tune, so another one of Laura’s artist friends started singing tango songs. She really had a very nice voice, although the first song obviously wasn’t her strongest, as someone next to me quickly pointed out. To be honest, I don’t know what he was on about. Listening to the melancholic lyrics of “La noche que te fuiste” (which means “The night you left me”) gave me goose bumps and I almost started to cry.

Perhaps I am getting sentimental in old age or the famous Argentinean melancholy is finally rubbing off on me. Or perhaps I once again realized that no matter how many friendly and affectionate encounters I experienced in this country, I was still a stranger and this wasn’t my home. I felt happy and sad at the same time. Happy to be there, to celebrate with these guys and to store the moments in my memory. And sad, because at some point we would leave Buenos Aires and these moments would perhaps become just that – a memory.

But hey, that’s what happens when you are all hopped-up on Dulce de Leche Chocolate Cake and tango songs. And perhaps time will show that some of the friends we made during our time in Argentina are for keeps. 

I would love that.