Dance into the Night

When the taxi driver finds the address, we wonder if there's been a mistake. It's nearly midnight — the time we were advised to come — but the only thing visible through the smudged glass door panes is a half-filled ashtray on an old desk. When we step into the building, though, we hear the strains of tango music from up above.

My lady friend and I had come to Buenos Aires to immerse ourselves in the city's seductive, ubiquitous tango culture. Walking around, we heard the songs of Carlos Gardel — tango's composer laureate — waft out...

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