TANGO MANGO:

Our most special events are the by now famous Tango Mangos. For about a week we go completely Tango mad.
For dates of the next Mango, click here.
Booking lines open three months before the starting date of each Mango.

What follows is an article written by Rebecca Barnstaple for the Tango Magazine El Once:

       It may be difficult to describe the process by which tango has come to live perpetually inside me...my walking, breathing, teeth-brushing existence has changed its subtle texture so deeply in the past week that I am convinced my face must broadcast its music. Every semi-waking moment has been touched; my feet have changed (and hurt), previous realities have been forgotten, and my soul quakes with a surreal rhythm. Where did I acquire this radical infection? How could I be so transformed, shook, alive?
       Well, start with seven days and nights of dancing, a beautiful space, shared food and conversation, an enormous amount of learning, complete immersion in all that is tango, and you come somewhere close to capturing the flavour of what is called a Tango Mango. The idea is inceptual and surprising - the creation of a space for people to come and dance, which is held open for seven continuous days and long evenings. There is a break at midnight to allow for some sleep. I would say it's an event, but its duration alone resists the term. This is more of a phenomenon, a visitation or a dream - sublime and simple, like what happens inside, leaving a barely visible residue which transfigures the rest of the day.

This anomaly occurs in what seems a most unlikely place - a country courtroom in a tiny Devonshire village. There's a pub and a church nestled in the green hills, a handful of houses, a steam train that rolls past the sleepy graveyard, council meetings and Bingo. It would seem the people of Staverton generally enjoy a peaceful rural existence, much like that of other villagers throughout Britain, except for the weeks when they find themselves the hosts of a rather exceptional possession. Not that it changes much for the locals, other than some have confessed to sitting out late in their gardens to catch the strains of bandoneon music drifting on the evening breezes. And the village council has developed a habit of referencing their usual roster of events as Before and After the Tang-O.
       The Tango Mango actually arrives from Totnes, a town of about 7000, two miles down river. Totnes is renowned for its peculiarity in breeding unexpectedly sophisticated manifestations of art and culture, and the local tango scene is no exception. For a relatively young group in a small place, there is an astonishing level of dedication and skill. A Tango Mango is the ultimate expression of the unique attitude of these tangueros; a place/event fusion embodying immersion, exploration and a real sense of fun.

There have, so far, been three instances of Mangos starting from July of last year, and each one has demonstrated a kind of natural growth suggesting that this is something here to stay. The first appeared almost by accident - a hall was booked and a workshop was canceled, and Ruth Zimmermann (who teaches in Totnes) was inspired to announce that she would be there, dancing, every day anyway if anyone wanted to join her. Her infectious enthusiasm attracted enough interest to generate a successful event with a cohesive, recogniseable shape.
       Since then, the Tango Mango has emerged as an opportunity to dance, share ideas and be consumed by tango in the friendliest of atmospheres, with each consecutive occurrence attracting people from further afield. It's beginning to take the code of a movement, with devotees emerging from those who've experienced its magic. Many who come to one will come again, and I must confess firsthand the effects are amazing.
       Structurally, it's incredibly simple. There is an open dance floor from ten in the morning until six in the evening, with an option to book private lessons during this time. Then there's a one hour introductory class, followed by a more intensive improvers workshop. At eight, the floor is opened again, and remains so until midnight. Throughout the day people drift in and out of the kitchen, sharing food and tea and washing up, and at some point the hungry and intensely devout who have been there all day will sit round the table and share a meal that someone has provided. The organisation is natural and mysterious - somehow food appears (and improves!) each evening, somehow people know when and how much to cook, somehow there is always enough, and somehow the dance floor is always just at the right consistency.

How does it feel? The general report is wonderful - for those who’ve been dancing upwards of thirty, forty hours this week there have been tears, epiphanies, lots of laughter and an undeniable deepening of their dance. The curious who've dropped-in for an evening agree - they leave smiling, astonished, addicted....their comments speak for themselves: