Tango's Other Capital

As the shadows lengthen in the ballroom, Vilariño's students push on, despite crossed steps and a few crushed toes. By the close of class, they've got the essentials: the tight embrace, the slow, syncopated shuffle across the dance floor and the rudiments of the "tango face," that all-important visage stuck somewhere between agony and ecstasy.

Just across the street from the Teatro Solis is the Old City's restaurant district. Reflecting the country's immigrant roots, Montevideo's cuisine centers on homemade pastas, pizzas and fire-grilled fish and meats. Cafe Bacacay, a bistro housed in a restored colonial building, once attracted its share of bohemian tango types as a popular bar. These days, the moodily lit Bacacay offers generous cuts of free-range beef roasted on its indoor parilla, a type of wood-fired barbecue ubiquitous in the capital. After a few glasses of the local red -- tannat, from a dry, spicy grape grown just outside the city -- it's finally time to tango.

"You undergo a transformation when you put these shoes on," says Dina Salvo, a 56-year-old Montevideana with platinum-blonde hair who picked up the tango nine years ago. She's talking about a pair of leopard-print stilettos with five-inch heels, her dancing shoes of choice. Tonight, Salvo has come to El Farolito, one of the most popular new tango clubs.

Located down a dimly lighted street in the Old City, El Farolito -- like most of the city's tango salons -- is easy to miss. "The scene is very intimate in Montevideo," explains Solari, the dance professor. "The tango here's not for export." Prices back up his observation. Although seeing tango in Buenos Aires might require a dinner show that can run $50 a head, the cover at the entrance to far simpler El Farolito comes to about $3.

The club is up a winding staircase, on the second floor of a renovated building with an elaborate baroque facade and wrought-iron balconies. Inside, a maze of hallways leads to the dance floor, just starting to fill up about 1 a.m. At a break in the music -- tango classics from the '30s and '40s emanating from a laptop glowing in the corner -- Salvo and her leopard-print stilettos take to the floor.

More than a century ago, the Vatican decried the dangers of the tango, warning its practitioners of "moral shipwreck." As the action picks up in El Farolito, the risks hardly seem exaggerated. Tango is unabashedly sensual: not just cheek to cheek, but chest to chest and thigh to thigh. Out on the floor, a mix of 20-somethings in jeans and older couples flushed red from exertion pulse counterclockwise around the room, locked in fierce embrace. At a climax in the music, Salvo twines her leg around her partner's, arching her calf skyward as the tune throbs to a close.

After a pause, where dancers quickly swap partners, a new song signals the start of another three-minute romance. Salvo, however, has had enough. "Tomorrow's the big night," she explains. Tucking her heels into her bag, she takes out a piece of paper and scribbles down the address of another club. "Best floor in Montevideo," she says. "No sign . . . but you'll hear the music."

Remy Scalza last wrote for Travel about the Uruguayan village of Punta del Diablo.