Every time I am in Buenos Aires I make my way to Bar Sur, a 45-year-old tango club in San Telmo. It is a tiny café with black and white tiles on the floor, a restroom tucked right behind the piano, and a doorman who remembers you from years before.
There is a nightly tango show—sultry, passionate, unresolved, unrequited kind of tango that makes you melt in your seat a little. A statuesque Barbra Streisand look-alike sings in between the dances. A trio of musicians plays in the corner. And the dancers invite you up to join them for a quick spin around the floor.