Wednesday, January 30 // Miércoles, 30 de enero
ENGLISH
SAIIE planned an optional trip to a flamenco show today. As I signed up for the show excitedly a few days ago, I wondered who the heck would pass on an opportunity like this! I had never seen real, live flamenco before today, and the area I am living in is famous for it. What a shame! In order to be a real "sevillana", I had to witness the magic of flamenco.
When I walked into the Centro Cultural Flamenco: Casa de la Guitarra (Cultural Flamenco Center: House of the Guitar), I was surprised to see that it was fairly small, fitting about fifty people very packed together. There was a small stage at the front with two red chairs, one with a guitar and one with a blanket covered in flowers (pictured below).
The show began with a guitarist who gave a brilliant showcase of a few styles of flamenco; both of his hands were flying across the instrument, each move spastic yet controlled and intentional. This alone was shocking to me - he was so talented. But it did not stop there. The next piece of the puzzle was el cantaor (the singer), who took the second chair and seemed to be reflecting while the guitarrista played. Little by little he began to clap in time with the guitar, fitting into the pockets of the song perfectly. He used his mouth, hands, and feet to add accents to the song, and eventually added his voice to illustrate the feeling that was to be conveyed with the flamenco. I wanted to cry for him, as the pained expressions on his face and the anguish in his voice were heart wrenching and captivating at the same time.
And finally, the part that most people think of when they hear the word "flamenco": la bailaora (the dancer). Previously, when I thought of flamenco, I imagined a woman in a polka-dot dress stomping her feet and creating intricate movements with her hands. Although this was partially true, flamenco is not a style of dance, but is described as a "feeling" (according to my host mother). The guitarrista and el cantaor are just as important as la bailaora. However, when they were all together, the room was electric.
Each stretch of performance was a different style because there are over 40 different styles of flamenco, with different styles originating in different cities in Spain, including Málaga, Cádiz, Jerez, and more. Each time they performed, the guitarrista would begin, el cantaor would add his rhythm and cry out his lyrics, and then la bailaora would jerk her body out of her seat and begin her movements. She told each story with her body, including her face; it was a constant process of rising emotions and heat, and the music and heel stomps got so loud that I was flinching. It was powerful. I could literally see sweat thrown off the face of la bailaora because her movements were so sharp.
The flamenco show was definitely an experience that I will never forget. It made me reflect on how lucky I am to have this opportunity to be experiencing another culture first hand. I am literally speaking the language of Spain, eating tapas and watching flamenco. Either I am in a high school Spanish video or I am in a dream.
Finally, I want to thank all of the people that are reading about my time in Spain. It means so much to me that you care to read my comments and stories; I am so lucky to have people that support me!
SPANISH
No lo hay hoy. Estoy cansada.