Wednesday, 5 March 2014


Is it today yet? I'm drunk. But let me tell you about seeing flamenco tonight. Warning: it was so thrilling I may have whooped. 
The show was billed for 9:30, normally my bed time, more or less. Trying to manage my habit of showing up way too early for things, I divided my walk from my pension to the venue into three, stopping every third for a wine and some transcriptions of notes (just in case you think I'm not working). Still, I arrived at the venue two hours early.
It was not just closed; it looked as if it had never been open. My limited travel experience in the old world had taught me that the best places don't necessarily sign themselves as such, and that especially here in Andalusia the night didn't even begin until 9 or so. So I retired to a tapas place down the street, no worries.
No one was in the tapas place, but the guy said come on in. Meanwhile he was swabbing the floor as if anxious to close up and get out of there, though he gladly served me a second wine. Several people came in while I was the only one in the bar. The guy said things to them--something about "we're about to close"--whereupon they nodded, looked at their watches, and left.
Turns out he was swabbing the place before, not after. The place didn't even open until 8, at which time my formerly lonely table in the corner became shoved there by a mass of tapas-'n-drinks Sevillians. Well. I did have to leave for the flamenco show.
Forget about all that. By the time I showed up, that dark doorway on Calle Freso had turned into this hot club in which I could barely find a slot at the bar. And before I run out of gas let me say two things: (1) it was so great to see all ages of locals (and, as far as I could tell, no tourists) digging this scene, and (2) what's not to dig? The vocalist, guitarist and dancer just ripped the place. Truly, flamenco picks you up by the shoulder blades and shakes every strand of your being, as far as I can tell. Again, it was thrilling to see so many young people feeling what way, I mean beautiful young people.
I'm gagagaga, and let the cathedral bells ring, I don't care.
I'll never forget what I saw tonight.


Sjvangas said...

I hear the staccato of the shoes and see the swish of colour and appreciate the awe of the audience who suddenly wishes that they too could command the floor. Lucky prairie boy.

Anonymous said...

oh, what a journey you are having.. and there is nothing like Duende in Spain…
and the discos on the beach in Barcelona only open at 1:00 am. I goess that's what siestas are for!

Mari-Lou said...

It's Lou Rowdy by the way,..