Monday, June 04, 2007


“Vamos tumba la cama, entrada mi picoy tu fuerta,
con atras abante; no pwersa pero sige rapido birada,
cargada cemilya todo discarga..ole!! "

My wifey just got back from a month long trip to Spain.
She was with her "amigas" ...
Actually it was an immersion experience of her Flamenco Dance Class.

What better way to learn, know and feel flamenco than to be in its heart - Andalucia, Spain.

Flamenco - the music and the dance - grew its own subculture in the Andalucian cities of Seville, Cadiz, Malaga and then beyond. Developed through the interplay of Andalucian, Islamic, Gypsy and Sephardic cultures - flamenco was initially a lower society dance that has since taken its place in international perception as part of the very essence of Spanish performing arts. Flamenco is expressed through the "toque" - the playing of the flamenco guitar, the cante (singing) and the baile (dancing).

If I am to believe my Mastercard bills - an integral part of the Flamenco learning experience appears to have been sightseeing, eating in expensive restaurants and shopping. Perhaps the beat of the music is best appreciated in new shoes, new clothes, and new earrings ... worn while eating in a swanky, tony part of town partaking of expensive wine and "tapas".
Hmmmmmmm ....

When wifey is away, I would sadly look at our empty bed and be overcome by the emotion of loneliness. I would get so lonely that I sometimes couldn't even sleep in our bed ... or in our room ... and many nights, not even in our house.
Hmmmmmmmmm .....

Now the wifey is back.
She lives and breathes flamenco.
She talks Spanish in her sleep.
The morning after she arrived ...
She looked at our cook with Iberian passion, stomped her feet and rhythmically clapped her hands while asking for her breakfast.

Our cook smiles in amusement as I chime in - "abre de lata de carne norte ".
I mockingly look at wifey and ask ... "queres tu el ketchup?"
Wifey gives me her irritated look - and with a flamencan sway of her hips and an emotional swing of her arms ... she barely misses my chin.
I duck with the skill of a matador.
And my son - as if watching a bullfight shouts ...."ole"

Our home ... a real nut house by many standards - is back to it crazy normality.