Jull: Where can we find real Flamenco? Our new friends at El Colmaito De Cai (a restaurant near our home stay) owned by Vincete Ortega Cano (see:elcolmaitodecai.com) insist that Anselma in Triana, the birthplace of Flamenco, is where we must go.
The Flamenco show starts at 00:00. At 11:45 pm we make our way across the Triana bridge, into Triana, passing the tile-faced, daily (except Sunday) market. Turn right at the first street and then left at the first left (passing by a fabulous Triana tile factory store). Walk straight (or as straight as you can at this time of night after a full day of intense sun and maybe a bit too much rioja). At the second 'intersection' (do not think North America intersection...think tiny back street intersection)...volia, there on the left corner is Anselma.
There is no entrance fee, just 5 or so euros for a drink (and yes you must buy a drink!). It is one room, a bar in the corner, the walls covered with art, photos and religious works. It seemed like an oversize living room, personal, and intimate where a variety of chairs have been collected from all over the house for a party.
The assortment of chairs were packed close together forming a semi circle with a small section of floor left clear near the front of the room. We had met up with 3 new friends (Roberto/Italy, Carla/ Brasil, Tassilo/ Germany) from the Spanish school Enforex. There was no room for us to all sit so we stood along the wall which proved to be the perfect place to see, to move to the music, and to catch the occasional breeze of cooler air that wafted through the door.
As soon as I saw the small space left for the show I thought our request for real Flamenco had been misunderstood. We'd missed our chance. No Flamenco dancing tonight. Just guitar.
Once the room was packed as full as possible ('everyone suck in your breath so we can push more bodies into the room!') a woman stood and commanded everyone's attention. I have no idea what she said but it was obvious she was in charge. The room hushed. Instructions were given (blah blah blah si pero blah blah blah) and then the first strums of the guitar began...
I was disappointed about missing the dancing but was soon pulled in to the music, the guitar, the drumming (it looked like someone just slapping their chair with their hands but he may have had a drum), fingers snapping, and 5 men of various ages, and obviously enjoying themselves, the atmosphere, their friendship (and maybe a fair bit of wine) began singing.
From that moment on I was lost in the music. I couldn't understand most of what was said but it was music that makes you smile, makes you think that no matter what, life is wonderful. Several songs had a chorus that included the words noches and mannana. Tonight and tomorrow. Given the energy in the room I guessed that these were old gypsy songs celebrating the moment you have. That night, to celebrate life. We will worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.
I was so wrapped up in the experience that I no longer cared about the misunderstanding, that it was Flamenco dancing we had been searching. But after an hour of the men singing, the young woman who had been serving drinks with amazing precision (and accuracy) stood in the small gap where the musicians performed. One of the men stood, and together, as the music began, they danced.
At that moment I received my first answer from the Camino. I must learn Flamenco dance!! It is so beautiful, graceful, yet strong. It reminded me of ballet set to a strong beat, with the occasional foot stomp and head-nod for emphasis as though saying 'this is my space. My time. My celebration!'. I felt completely mesmerized.
It was 3 am when we stumbled across the Triana bridge back in to Sevilla. Even if I had been required to buy water for 10 euro (they only charge 3 euro) I would not have missed this experience!
No comments:
Post a Comment