Reflection on Tango Unity Project
by Marko Jovanovic (young mentor from Buena Vista Dance School Podgorica)

The stereotype for Montenegrins is that we are lazy, but I don’t think it can ever describe exactly how lazy we can actually be. Let’s just say I consider myself to be the pinnacle of laziness. Sometimes chewing food feels like a redundant activity, let alone walking to places or talking. That is why getting out of my comfort zone usually feels like the most annoying thing imaginable any time it happens. Even just getting out of my house and interacting with people feels like a chore most often, so any additional activity just adds to that and makes me feel like the protagonist of a tragedy. The particularly annoying part is that I know it’s good for me and that I’ll come out of it as an improved version of myself—whether in terms of knowledge, confidence, or just richer for an experience. That’s exactly what I thought the Tango Unity project sounded like a great opportunity to take a step forward.

It may sound a bit as if I were a shut-in weeb before this (I wish), but I had actually already been a dance instructor for a few years at the time this project came about. I teach both Cuban salsa and Argentine tango, and I enjoy passing on the skills I have to others. What I mean is that I was already no stranger to the social side of engaging with people or groups of people, but this experience still presented many chances to try something different.

For start, our meetings in Montenegro had way more of a serious vibe than our regular practice meetings or classes. The idea here was to prepare an original program that beginners—and particularly young beginners—would enjoy, as it can be extremely difficult not to annoy an unsuspecting young person to death when you tell them to just practice something for hours. We already had a working system before, but there’s always room to improve, and improving it is what we tried to do from the get go. The stereotypical laziness I mentioned before meant that it was difficult to have all of us focused and productive all the time, but it was still a considerably more engaging process and it was definitely a learning experience.

Within this project, I also had the horrifying experience of preparing a performance to do with just my partner. This was around the half-way point of the Tango Unity project, which was always intended to have a final, group performance as its culmination in June. However, I meekly succumbed to the persuasion that it would be a good idea to try doing a performance earlier on to make the latter one easier.

I purposefully exaggerate, of course. While it was really a difficult thing to do since it was my first time performing in front of a crowd, the practice that went into it was significantly more useful than any before it. When you know you’ll have to be a ‘performer,’ your brain is basically forced to take the preparation more seriously and to consider way more details than it normally would. It felt like I’d made more progress as a dancer in those 4-5 days (it was pretty ride or die) than I’d made in the 7-8 years before it. The fact that it was a local crowd that would’ve cheered no matter how poor we were surely also helped, but I did still feel like it was a step I would’ve regretted not making.

Shortly after, it came time to travel to Skopje. We’d had a couple of meetings in Montenegro already, but it was still kind of daunting to think about jumping into 40+ new people to practice together. I was quickly introduced to my wonderful partner for the group performance, Ivana, and, as it usually is, practicing with the group turned out to be way less complicated than I’d imagined. As with any learning process, it wasn’t perfect from the start, but everyone clearly enjoyed participating, and it felt like I was a part of a really fun activity together with a large group of enthusiasts I’d never met before. Even though we have a young active community in Montenegro, this amount of hyped peers was an unusual sight for me when it comes to Argentine tango.

After a bit of reluctant sightseeing through Skopje (and a few lost battles against the Sun), I caught myself being excited for the performance. Even before it was over, I was already thinking about how quickly the time had gone by, and how we’d already have to go back soon. The time came, but I didn’t feel any pressure or stage fright. The experience I’d gone through earlier had made me feel more confident, and now I had zero doubts that I would go through the entire choreography with no mistakes. I genuinely was surprised at how sure I was of that fact, and it felt satisfying to then live up to the unexpected high expectations I’d somehow placed upon myself.

And so it ended. We also managed to successfully do what somehow turned out to be the most complicated part of the whole performance—bowing to the crowd and gracefully leaving the dance floor. I regret not being able to stay at the farewell milonga due to having to rush to try to find some manga (my shut-in weeb dream lives on after all), but I am forever grateful for the opportunity to meet so many enthusiastic people and share a performance in the beautiful Skopje.