PART 3

So the long wait started, which stretched to a little over five hours. Now, we could go to the toilet, I had my coffee, we could stand up, walk around, chat, and glance over at Viggo at our leisure. I read the Spanish newspaper El PAIS from cover to cover (incidentally, it had several articles about Cuba, Argentina and editorials criticizing the situation in Iraq). Meanwhile, there was a sound system playing music, and afterward I found out they were Viggo's own CDs that he'd bought in Denmark, Otis Redding, jazz, for instance. The whole time we saw how Viggo patiently signed everything that people put in front of him, he posed with some people while friends took pictures, even though we'd been asked "no posing", while some people were kindly tapped on the shoulder by "the guys in yellow" when they felt they'd taken too long. The table started filling with gifts, at some point, we even moved, because we couldn't see him anymore :) He drank from his (cold?) mate,  water, red wine, but I'm sure he must have been very thirsty by the end. So the hours passed and I was thinking, when our turn comes, he's going to be tired, dazed and more than ready to visit the toilet - poor guy. If at some point we were tired, imagine how he felt. Still, he never loses his temper, he remains kind and well mannered, I don't know how he manages, I would have bitten several heads off if I'd been in his place. Around nine PM I noticed I was getting hungry, after all, I hadn't eaten anything since brunch. We did get a chance to talk a lot to each other and some other people in the rows behind us, who were from Germany, and another girl who I thought was Danish because she spoke English with me. I had a chance to talk to Lis again - she was as fascinated by Viggo's tango as I was

He was tired here already, and it was after about two hours.

Around eleven, we were told to stand in line to finally go up to the stage. Pilar arrived and she started to rush around trying to hasten the procedure, we were told again "no posing" and "only two items per person". We arranged who was to take whose picture, we applied lipstick, had some mints, arranged hair that had been losing body throughout the afternoon of waiting in a stifling room, everything was in order and ready to go. I took an opportunity to thank Pilar once more, for everything, although she modestly insisted she hadn't done anything, believe me, that's not true. Christine, who was ahead of me, suddenly wanted to bolt, but she bravely went ahead, I took her picture and then it was my turn. Gulp. When I saw him up close, I said: "Pobrecito", which means, poor you. Don't think he gave me a polite "no, no", he nodded and said "yes"! While he signed Un hueco en el sol,  for which I had the piece of paper they'd given us to make it easier for him, I told him: "Viggo, once more I thank you that you came here and that you do these things, you have enormous amounts of patience, thank you so much." He smiled and said "you're welcome", and then I remembered to tell him "and thanks for the "silencio". He smiled again, less tiredly, and said something like "you liked it, right?" so I told him yes and thanks again. Who knows if he even remembered the previous evening, he looked so exhausted. I told him it had been a tremendous moment (he wasn't signing anymore by then, he was listening), specially because that was my mother's favorite tango so I knew what he was going to pick, and commented that she had a huge Gardel collection on 78 rpm records. He perked up again and said: "I hope she knows how valuable that is", so I told him she did. Then he started signing something on 45301, for which I hadn't written anything for him on the piece of paper, so at the same time I said "write whatever, you know, viva la revolución, viva México, viva Zapata..." He stopped writing and looked up again. "Do you want me to write that or what?" I saw he had started to write "gracias", so I said I already had some books of his that said "gracias" and that's why I was saying that... and in a microsecond I thought 'what are you doing??? The man is exhausted!' So I said: "No, no, no, forget it, write whatever you like, I was just..." Full stop. Because he was already writing something. I got closer to the book, because I couldn't understand what he was scribbling :) Until, seeing one word, I deduced the rest: "¡Gracias a Patricia y a Emiliano Zapata!" He started laughing and so did I, I told him that was good, and he was very pleased with his little joke. So I thanked him for the millionth time and told him I had something for him, seeing as he had just been to Cuba, it was a CD by Ibrahim Ferrer (of Buena Vista Social Club fame). Let me tell you, you had to half yell, I don't know what was so loud on that stage, the music, the  general din, or what,  plus he was so tired and I noticed he kind of didn't catch what I'd said, so to cut it short, I said, it's OK, but I hope you like it, it's music by Agustín Lara, Chucho Valdés and Ernesto Lecuona (NB: Great "son" writers, although Lara is Mexican). He suddenly said something like "who did you say it was?" "Ibrahim Ferrer, from Cuba." His eyes shone in recognition. "Ah! Yes". He thanked me (it was the "dankeschön olympics" there!) and this time, he stretched out his hand. So I shook it and again, he stared at me, looked into my eyes like the evening before, but he pulled me down to him. I was shocked, thinking, now what. Because he was sitting and I was bending uncomfortably over to reach his height, or rather his level. He kept pulling... and he kissed me on both cheeks - I kissed him too. He doesn't peck the wind, I'll have you know :) and neither do I. So, two kisses, European style. He thanked me again, I said thanks to you and the normal thing would have been for me to leave stumbling over my feet, but I managed to walk away with dignity, apparently :) Anyway, afterwards I realized I'd forgotten to tell him anything of what I'd planned to tell him in the five hours. At least, I did remember to thank him for his patience and the tango. In the end, it's better not to have "a plan", I suppose, and things just flow naturally, like the evening before.

So there I was again, with high adrenaline levels and no one to kick. The other girls just wanted to get something to eat, I wasn't even hungry anymore, what I wanted was to go dancing. There's a hamburger place behind the museum and there we went, because my famished companions didn't even want to wait for waiters to bring food to the table :) I didn't care one way or the other anyway. We said good bye to Chrissie and Rebecca, and to Erika, who was going to Egeskov the next day. We met the woman I'd thought was Danish in the hamburger place, but she turned out to be German, so we sat and we talked. She was quite nice, we arranged to meet the next day at the Kongens Have (a park in front of the train station), since Christine and Alex were going to drive someplace. I had to go through the park anyway, on my way to the lockers at the station, were I planned to leave my luggage until my departure the next evening. So we were talking until about one AM. I'd seen a place that had live jazz music starting at 00:30, but when I went there, it was closed. Once again I walked around Odense, but I couldn't bring up the nerve to go in alone into the places that had pop or rock music, and didn't find any salsa or jazz. I was about to climb a statue and shout: "My kingdom for a mariachi band!" I'm spoiled, I guess, like I mentioned before, where I live, there is always something. Walking back to the station the next evening, I found the café where they are supposed to play live music every evening - by the station indeed, it's opposite and way to the right. Anyway, I didn't find it this night, so I went back to the hotel, but I couldn't quite get to sleep, I guess I had too much unspent energy inside or the nerves that didn't materialize themselves at crucial moments that weekend finally made an appearance, I don't know. I went to sleep very late.

The next day, predictably, and even though I had an alarm clock, I was running a little late. It was already 10:20 when I left the hotel. And that was the first in a series on incredible coincidences that happened that morning. While changing money into coins at the front desk to have the necessary money for the station locker, the receptionist suggested I leave the bags at the hotel next door, they would be there all day, and it was free. So, instead of walking to the left, as I would have done, to go to the park and then the station, I turned right, to the other hotel. But when I got there, I thought, no, I'd better leave the things at the station, who knows where I'll be tonight and it's better if my bags are already there. I still debated if I should backtrack and go through the park, while trying to go through a bunch of women from Germany who were just leaving the hotel. But then I decided to go on, to the station avenue, from where I could see if my new friend was already waiting, it was almost 10:30. So I turned into the avenue, pulling my bag, tra la la. I saw through a hotel  cafeteria window how some girls I'd seen at the Viggo - events were having breakfast. I went on, quite content, when I reached the corner of the park, where there is a very nice hotel. There, in the driveway, some guy was loading or unloading a car, through the driver's door. Suddenly, "the guy" looked at me and smiled. I've no idea how my face looked like with the surprise, but I think it wasn't anything exaggerated. Still, I didn't get nervous. Because you can imagine who it was! He said "hola", so did I, he asked me how I was, I said fine, and you, you must be very tired. Again, he didn't deny it, but said that yes, it had been very tiring, the night before, so I thanked him yet again for having been there. He was wearing the San Lorenzo shirt again, and he was barefoot, rolling a cigarette, I guess the tobacco and paper were in the car. He didn't look apprehensive or nervous, I don't think he was thinking of bolting ('oh, no, one of the crazy women'), I thought he looked normal, he didn't close the car door, he didn't make a move to walk away, didn't say adiós. Since I had been pulling my bag, he asked if I was leaving, and I told him I was, in the evening, but I was leaving my stuff at the station. Very nicely, he suggested what I could do in Odense, museums to visit and stuff. I said "what else can you do on a day like this", because it was starting to drizzle just then, "but I plan to see your exhibition again, because on Friday..." "It was really full, right?", he added. I said "yes", and I wanted to look at the photographs with more care, as well. He wished me something, like a good visit, I think.

I pulled my bag and thanked him again for the tango, and for the fact that he'd gone to such trouble to do something in Spanish, he said you're welcome and that he was glad I'd liked it. Then I told him he should please remember that he had many fans in Latin America and Spain, many of whom didn't speak English, who visit this site frequently. I told him those fans had many, many questions for him, if he would mind answering a couple? "No, of course not", he replied.

"Do you know how to dance salsa, merengue that type of thing?"

"No". Gasp! I was really surprised, I'd always imagined him dancing some merengue away, and alas, he said "no". He looked at his own feet, and said, "But I would like to learn". He looked so cute, like a little boy. I said something like "I hope you do, then."

"In which language do you think?"

"Well, it depends on where I am." OK, I said, sounds logical (even though in my case, it depends on the subject I'm thinking about). Well, I wasn't going to be standing there all morning, holding him up, so after he commented he was going to stay a few days in Denmark, I wished him a nice time, and some rest, he wished me a nice trip and thanked me for coming to Odense. For the last time, I told him "gracias a tí" and, smiling he waved good bye and said 'see you", I said "bye". I would have told him he was going to go to heaven, shoes and all, for everything he had done this weekend, but he wasn't wearing any! (That's a saying in Spanish: You're going to heaven, shoes and all."

The people I met afterwards must have thought I was completely nuts, because I couldn't stop smiling. Imagine, what luck! So many things that, had I done them differently that morning, would have taken me to other places. Afterwards Lis told me that he was supposed to have met her at 10:30, but he was already late when I met him. He must have gone to the museum right after, my friend, who wasn't at the park (not where we'd arranged to meet, anyway, she waited somewhere else until about 10:45), told me that she missed him, she had been on the museum's terrace while he was inside with Lis. That's where I went to, the museum, after leaving my things at the station (where I idiotically told someone I'd seen at the Viggo events "I just met him". Roll eyes). I had a very nice, long conversation with Lis, she told me some things about her experience working with Viggo, but then we talked about all sorts of things. She's incredibly nice and she never told me that there were some photographs by heselfr upstairs, in the permanent collection! They're really good. I also talked with Mr. Jørgen Hansen, one of the museum's staff, who is also very nice. He told me how he'd had a feeling that Viggo was going to be nice and down-to-earth when he saw some of his movies, and that he'd been right and very impressed. He told me some anecdotes, including the one about the cake with the Viggo photograph icing. He also took out the visitor's book, after I'd asked him if they had one, and I was the first to sign it . He told me he'd show it to Viggo when he dropped by again :)

And now, like somebody accepting an "Oscar": I have to thank, first and foremost, Leslie, for everything, Lis, Tina, Susanne and Mr. Hansen from the Museet for Fotokunst,  the girls from The House of Telcontar, my mother, for having changed her flight to stay longer and babysit and specially, Pilar and Viggo, for a fabulous weekend that will be hard to forget.

So what was my general impression? In the first place, for me, it was incredible to see Viggo's photographs on the museum's walls and I was so lucky that this was a retrospective, which included a lot of old favorites. Every time I would look at them in his books, I would wish I could see them someday, full size, and that wish has come true. I will include a page about the exhibition here soon.

As for Viggo, he's not as tall as I'd imagined, which doesn't mean he isn't. He is just as handsome as he looks in pictures and in the movies, and his eyes are an intense blue. The years don't seem to pass by him, he looks much younger than he is. He has this almost Latin thing where he "talks" with his hands and when he talks to you, he keeps eye contact. You try to hold a coherent conversation, then!  I can confirm what I, and you, have read in many such reports: he is exceedingly nice, attentive, discreet and patient. He may seem shy, but I think that it's rather that he tries to keep his distance, quite necessary in situations like these. He speaks Spanish perfectly, no trace of an American accent there, but when talking to me, he didn't sound very much like an Argentinean, not like I'd heard him during interviews and such (even La Pistola...). Only when asking some questions did it really come out. I suppose that when he talks to people from Argentina, the accent "sticks" to him, too. With me, it sounded more neutral. Anyway, no matter what you tell him, he pays total attention, but when something catches his attention, his eyes shine differently.

To my ears, and maybe I'm wrong, he doesn't have such a strong command of Danish; I think he was also nervous. I wonder if he cared about those critics in some Danish newspapers? Even though I could understand very little, I think his tone while reading Danish was a bit more monotonous and sometimes he had to repeat a word. In English he modulated his voice differently and with more emotion. The tango was absolutely incredible, and this from someone who doesn't know a lot about tango. Mexico is a huge country, with a lot of different music, and it wasn't until I left it that I even started listening to music from other Latin American countries. You want to see me slumped on the floor sniffling, you play me a mariachi song, not a tango (unless it's "Arráncame la vida", a "Mexican" tango by Agustín Lara). However, and this is just one of a whole lot of incredible and unusual events that happened that weekend, "Silencio" I did know, as I knew the cemetery story. Imagine - what series of coincidences and circumstances led him to sing the one tango that I knew well? As I said: incredible. Was it a dream? I still can't believe it.

My respect to Viggo: in these days, in which most people, specially in his own country, have forgotten that there was an illegal invasion of a faraway country, he talks about it and about the suffering of the people in that country. These days in which the authority of the United Nations was supposedly undermined by the actions of the school bully, he spreads the flag of that organization that, maybe in the eyes of the bully lost in prestige, but which to the rest of the world is a symbol of defiance. With the utmost care, the UN flag was spread in front of his table, so that the message became quite clear. And those who still might doubt his intentions, he mentioned the subject several times, even in relation to the tango, which, as you may know, is about a mother who lost five sons to war and as a consolation prize got five medals from the nation. He also encouraged us not to remain silent, even now, when everything seems to be over, everything but the suffering in that violated country. Viggo: hats off. Thanks to the man who doesn't like borders for reminding us we have a voice.

You might think I've used the word "incredible" a few too many times. But that is just how it seems to me, everything that happened. Still, I'm not really ashamed to admit that the word describes my impression of that memorable weekend, and my relation to those memories, quite perfectly. Sometimes, when you get to meet someone you had admired, your own expectations leave you disappointed. My image of Viggo was not only confirmed, but enhanced. Those three days were and exciting, unforgettable experience, the impossible made possible - incredible! I hope that you have a chance to meet him, someday, if you haven't. Believe me, it's worth it. Let's get on with it, then!

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