Gustavo ‘Mono’ Silva is one of the main attractions of La Arena in Palermo (Photo: Allison Kate Cherkis)

Upon introduction to Gustavo ‘Mono’ Silva, few would doubt his involvement with the circus. With his long curls, V for Vendetta-style facial hair, and wild eyes magnified by thick black-rimmed glasses, Silva looks like he walked straight out of a central casting call for “ringmaster.”

But despite charmingly nostalgic appearances, Silva says the circus he represents is a distant descendant from the Water for Elephants era.

“It’s a new aesthetic, a new way of seeing the circus,” he said after teaching a double-bill of trapeze classes. “The focus is different, but many of the techniques are the same.”

Silva himself is one of the main attractions of La Arena in Palermo, a professional circus school that has democratised circus activities by making them available at a casual hobby level.

The 53-year-old ex-performer still has the physique of a male gymnast, and has trained some of those now working for Cirque du Soleil.

With two Argentina Independent reporters in tow to help shoulder any beginner’s humiliation, I survived my first two attempts at Silva’s trapeze class.

The first thing you should know about the course is that it’s not designed for one, spectacular Facebook-worthy visit. For at least the first 20 minutes, you’ll be wondering if you shouldn’t just fudge the five sets of 100 jump ropes he orders, and experience a painful flash back to your high school gym class when he tells you to climb a rope.

The second thing you should know is that you will not be necessarily “flying” in this trapeze class. La Arena’s small indoor gymnasium houses about eight bars in a row, ranging from maybe 10 to 15 feet high, directly above large, life-cushioning acrobatic mats.

Silva is quick to ascertain each student’s skill level, but does not allow the beginner to coast. Upon our first class, we were hanging from the backs of our knees, doing pull-overs and posing in no-handed arabesques— a pose where one foot stands on the bar, and the other stretches out the side rope like a bow and arrow.

The third thing you should know is it’s a blast. Silva also instructs the school’s professional classes but is enthusiastic and encouraging at every level. Students who have advanced through multiple classes will be given directions to a new trick, and then left alone to practice.

Flipping backwards and hanging upside down (Photo: Allison Kate Cherkis)

For those of us who don’t feel quite as steady, his tuition is very hands-on, spotting and doling out real-time, step-by-step instructions.

For one of the most sweat-inducing stunts, we are instructed to sit on the bar like a swing, hands clutching the metal, and legs spread eagle. As Silva yells “Hasta la vista, baby!” we trustingly fall backwards, our shins  catching the ropes, and hang upside down.

Perhaps the biggest motivation to return is the seemingly lightning fast progression through difficulty levels. Justo, a pre-teen who had only attended for a few weeks was already pretzeling his body through the ropes, and hanging head first about five feet above the bar.

“I knew nothing of trapeze when I first came here,” said Victoria Manchinu, an interior designer who has taken the class for two months. “But [Silva] is very supportive. He’s holding you every step of the way. I trust him.”

The intimidation factor among classmates sits at around an orange-level. Your typical Argentine knock-outs are there, with sweeping ponytails, natural flexibility and elongated muscle tone that only adds to the beauty of the sport. But there are plenty of normal people among us as well, clad in gym shorts and t-shirts, ready to just give it a shot for fun.

A modest level of fitness is helpful, but Argentina’s summer months prove a bit of a discovery period in terms of bringing new people to the class. The regular training season is from March to December, culminating in an end-of-the-year performance for family and friends.

Samanta Fiorino has been taking classes recreationally for four years now. “It’s a very famous school here in Buenos Aires, one of the best ones,” she said. “This is a very cultural city, and the circus is big here. If someone’s serious, they come to [La Arena] because of its history. It’s very prestigious.”

Students of all ages attend classes in The Arena (Photo: Allison Kate Cherkis)

The late 80s and early 90s were something of a period of cultural enlightenment for the circus in Argentina. Silvia says it was 1989 when the modern show was officially born and, having trained in France as well as Argentina, he notes a strong European influence in today’s spectacles.

The present day company was conceived in 1992 by professional circus artists who sought to create poetry in their performances through “dramatic movement, space and body in action.”

Silva appreciates that the modern circus revolves around people rather than animals. “Everyone here wants to be here,” Silva said. “The day an elephant comes to me and volunteers, I will let him perform.”

To date, however, Silva isn’t short on volunteers. At $50 a class, both of the 7:00 and the 8:30 Wednesday classes are filled with 10-15 people vying for his attention.

Although the content is different between the recreational and professional courses, the level of professionalism he brings to his students is the same, and borne from his early love of the sport.

“I just realised that this was what I wanted to do,” he said. “I fell in love.”