The Sunday Flea Market

On Sunday almost everything closes in Jerez. Of course, that's not counting when everything is closed every day at siesta time. And not counting when everything is closed at night when you come out of the shows. AND not counting when each business owner takes their own special holiday. Also counting numerous holidays celebrating - guess who... well, the Virgin Mary - of course.

I'm thinking there is perhaps room for a business consultant here on how to make money. My first advice would be... TO OPEN UP FOR BUSINESS.

This Sunday, Pat, my dear friend, fellow flamenco junkie, neighbour at home, and now "Sante Patricia" (she has acquired sainthood in my world, as she has taken me under her experienced wing, and is teaching me the ropes) went to the Flea Market that is in the Plaza outside the palace.

The rain had finally let up, and then it shone brightly, drying the soaked streets. Like a fall day in Ontario, the clean brisk wind seemed to clear the air. We met at the clock outside the tapas bar where Juan Jose works, and made our way across town... Pat describing points of historical, or useful interest along the way.

I was expecting the same old junk you find in flea markets at home... but when we climbed the steps up to the plaza...layed out on blankets and tables in the windy sunshine , was tons of wonderful SPANISH JUNK!!!! Great cheesy gold candelabras, rows of wonderful bad paintings of the Madonna, brass hardware from wherever, decorative boxes, cups, plates, a really cool old baby carriage, and car radios....hmmnn LOTS of car radios.



I wasn't quite dry yet, so I bought a black wool poncho for two euros (with which I justified my purchase of a great little black suit - earlier in the week, before I got word from home the Visa was over its limit - this justification of purchases is an important female skill I should probably do seminars in...) and Pat found some jeans for one euro.




Deals found, sun and wind enjoyed, we headed back across the plaza past the Tio Pepe's family's Sherry brewery, then to Pat's apartment (she is here for three months) for some stew she had cooked.

Pepe sings!

Here's an audio file of me convincing Pepe to sing at Pepe's bar that first night...

First dance class and an amazing concert

The first day of the Festival. The rain lets up and Jerez is transformed in a matter of hours. The streets are now seething with people. Flamenco music is heard everywhere - blasting from the windows of passing cars... open windows above the street... from behind the big wooden doors. People of other cultures can now be picked out of the crowd , as well as obvious flamenco performers, here to take it in as well.



People shop, and eat, and talk. There are even more cars in the streets than usual - you really have to watch it. It is also the long weekend this week, a city holiday, and everybody is aso preparing for Easter. There are special practice nights for the floats that carry the Virgin Mary . On certain nights (when everybody is off work I assume) they practice with huge platforms - all packed together underneath, with curved cushions around their necks, scrunched up, and patiently and slowly lumbering along the streets - trying to keep it moving level I suppose.



My first dance class was today. Maria Jose Franco is absolutely stunning. I find my fellow students gathering in the gym that is where we will be for the next 10 days. There are people from all over the world.

She conducts the class completely in Spanish but is clear, patient and not all all like what I've heard teachers can be like here.... Except for the room being mirrored on all sides (which is my learning nemesis and curse) I am absolutely thrilled. I make friends with a girl named Naoko Sugiura from Japan, and we go back to my hotel afterwards, and try to remember the sequence she taught us, and film it. I also meet Francisco from Ecuador and a lady from Germany.

I rush to the theatre at 8.30 and the people are crowded around, some people are sitting in the café beside it with guitars, and singing... doing palmas (even in this cold).

I find Kasandra, Monica, and Andrew, get my tickets, and we file into the beautiful old theatre. The crowd is solid flamencos. Good God EVERBODY is here. There are some singers and musicians I've been listening to for years, and some are here in the audience- a girl from Germany sitting beside me points them out. Joaquin Grilo is astounding... the other performers are nothing less than fantastic, but what was an unforgettable experience, was being in that crowd at the the end of the show when they did three encores of fiesta por buleria.. and the whole crowd was clapping and stamping their feet in time. The room surrounded you with the rythm. Up from the floor came the pounding, and around you the sound of thousands of hands doing it "right" and haleos that brought you right to the artists on stage doing bukerias like you've never even dreamed.

We fell out of the theatre and went for drinks and Tapas... the parties will be going on all night, but everybody has jet lag, and starts their classes in the morning, so I walked home to my hotel WIRED wishing I had the courage to go find some foreigners that woud let me tag along. Hmnnnnn - maybe next week!

Meeting Jookoo, and the best hat in Jerez

Peeking my head out from my pile of blankets the next morning.... I hear singing down the hall. I obviously have flamencos staying in the hotel with me. The cigarette smoke is also a sign. One thing that I've noticed here is how certain kinds of rules are completely ignored. The fact that I am a food-sensitive asthmatic is ridiculous here. The older night clerk who has FINALLY taken a shine to me , calls me "mujer mui nervosa" (I suppose technically he's right...but I prefer to think of myself as creatively high strung.)

I'm feeling introverted, cold and lonely today, but can't justify another day in bed , as Jerez is out THERE... not in here. I get dressed and put on my soggy cold shoes that are covered in that yellow muddy stuff that's all over the streets - hey - if these get REALLY wrecked, I'm going to need new shoes... hmnnn things are lookin' up!

I also am dying for some warm comfort food that isn't oily... I've been given good advice from friends at home about where to eat, but haven't seemed to crack that mystery of exactly where, and how to ask for the food I can eat yet. My language barrier is so profound. How do you sign no additives? I feel like an idiot. My friends all arrive tonight - and they've been here many times - they'll know!

Monica called from Gibraltar - she has reunited with her roots. She's had a fabulous time, and doesn't want to leave her family - she is talking in Spanish - her brain has switched over. The connection isn't great, but I get that she's not coming in to town till later.

Sigh... another day in the cold rain - YUCK.

So... I end up at the bar that I had too much wine the other day. It's cold, and the waiter asks me in a concerned way whether I want to sit inside, instead of outside. But I thought I would just listen to Camaron's alegrias on my iPod and take pictures of the people walking by all bundled up in winter clothing.

I wanted to find a decent hat in the crowd.

So far the only people wearing really good hats are the Gypsy men, and so far I've been too shy to walk right up to them and sign about hats. They'd think I was stark raving mad. I'm hoping to meet someone who can connect me so I can take pictures of them.

And that's when I meet Jookoo.

I have since found out that Jookoo knows everyone in Jerez. And some of you who have been here many times probably know him. He is a local fixture. I actually had seen him sitting in assorted cafés all week. He would either be sitting with the men in hats I wanted to photograph...or they would walk over to greet him. Everybody hugs and kisses each other when they see each other here, as if they haven't seen their long lost brother in years. Jookoo stands out even here, in his typical shoulder length hair, and always dressed in black. He stands out as well because he is always talking to people.



He sat beside me but didn't approach me in the way that makes you feel uncomfortable as a North American woman alone in a bar. I've had those approaches while here, and Jookoo was not pulling that number. What a relief.

I was tapping my feet in time to the alegrias... taking photos... and rubbing my now numb fingers to get warm. Jookoo laughed and said something about "frio".

I blurted out "Jesus Mary and Joseph - it's so damn cold- I might as well be in freakin' Canada!" He laughed and started speaking English! I was so relieved, I just couldn't believe it. Turns out his first language is actually Sanskrit. The ancient language. He has been in Jerez for about six years. His people are from northern Syria, Iraq... all those countries. He has moved all over the world, but his mother now lives in Chicago, so that's where he has spent a lot of time and where he picked up his Mac G4 - on which he is learning to use ProTools to make his music, and research the traditional singing of his people (the singing that he passionately talks of being one of the original roots of flamenco).

Like so many other people Jookoo is here for the Flamenco.

He has made a CD with the guitarist Maraito Chico called "Journey to the Roots of Flamenco". Check it out on "CD Baby". You can buy it from iTunes - I did today. Actually , I showed Jookoo that he had iTunes on his computer, when he showed me the footage he had taken in his relatives' villages three years ago, and he is wanting to transfer what he has on CD to DVD form to make a promotional DVD. Since that is what I'm learning to do, we had a blast playing around with our computers, while he generously made me a delicious home-cooked meal with a space heater blasting beside me -- yay!

As we talked about creativity art, music, family... my husband Richard of almost thirty years, and my grown children, my friends... We traded mother stories. His mother seems to be the constant woman in his life. He talked of how close they were. Yeah, I know - all you cynics out there - it was cool. Every person in this world has a sincere heart side.

Now speaking of that - and his mother... She made the GREATEST hat. There stands on Jookoos' table - a beautiful statue of the Virgin. On her head is a hat crocheted for her by his mother. Now what I find great about this hat- is that were it full size - it would be totallly cool! He said I could put her on my blog.

He then took me out to show where to buy a coffee machine, milk , coffee, and and computer stuff. He even told me how they change things around on the shelves all the time so don't expect it to be in the same place each time. There at the grocery store, we met up with my friend Pat who is here for three months. We then parted company , but not before Jookoo gave us tickets to an art show opening that night, and said bring our friend to a certain bar at midnight... as it was Memphis night.

As I sit here under the covers , warm in bed writing my blog with the coffeepot gurgling beside me, I am grateful to Jookoos' generous spirit.

Not so sunny Spain

It was cold and raining in Jerez and snowed in Cadiz....

Somehow my expectations of exploring solo for one last day were re-adjusted by a complete physical crash. For the first time in my life, I did not rise from my bed until 1:00 in the afternoon... then I went out and unabashedly drank wine at a cafe, went straight back to the hotel, deliciously crawled back in to bed, and slept till seven that night.

I ventured out again into the streets disoriented... and wandered amongst the throngs of people shopping and filling the tapas bars for the evening light meal. (The big meal is of course eaten here after the retail stores close for the middle of the day - which leads me again to my burning question: In this year of 2006, how does anybody actually afford to buy lunch when their store is all shuttered up... and not making any money?)

It started to rain.. Umbrellas came out. People hurried along with their bags and the cobblestones below my soaked feet reflected the amber street lights. Thin little rivers appeared that curled into rivulets around the patterns the stones make in the street. And in the air was a mixture of exhaust, cooking seafood, cigarette smoke and construction dust all mixed together in a kind of musty cold soup making the air feel thick and wet.



This is sunny Spain? It is cold right to my bones! I am looking forward to getting back, and running a hot bath. I turn toward what I THINK is my street... but somehow it looks different in the rain... wasn't that the store that sold phone cards and tobacco? Damn - who can tell when the shutters are down...

I panic for awhile, mostly because I'm cold, and this isn't fun anymore. Then lo and behold, I'm RIGHT on the corner where my hotel is- Whew! I get upstairs..and they've turned down the hot water for the night. I take the blankets off the second bed, don my socks the fleece pants that I swore I'd never wear, and my fleece vest... crawl in... curl up...and try to remember what the hell it is I am trying to prove being here!

Doorways and Streetscapes

Here are a couple of photo galleries of some of the beautiful sights on the streets of Jerez!

Amazing doorways and doorknobs

Jerez Street Scenes

(A big thank you to my trusty webmaster Adam for putting these together - even with a laptop, there's only so much one can accomplish while you're running around!)

The joys of getting lost

Jet lag having finally been almost recovered from, and my fellow flamencos not arrived in town yet (500 or so descend from all over the world in just a few days), I've been having the most delicious time getting to know the town and people of Jerez. I pop my lap-top, camera and iPod in my backpack (yes really I do!) and hit the streets. I drink too much wine...eat too many fishy things... stand at bars with gruff-looking men and order cafe con leche... and then go taking pictures.
I am completely unable to communicate other than sign language and pictures...the few words of Spanish I know leave my head the second they are needed.
I'm finding the braver and less self-concious I become , the kinder, and more generous people are.

I communicate with the store when I catch some wireless... (news letter to get out..the stock is being unpacked)

I got lost - as, like most medieval towns, the core is a labyrinth of narrow twisted streets, some connecting, but many not. This makes it more fun because if you get lost, you just keep walking until you end up somewhere you recognize. You can always ask someone, and they will wave their arms this way, and that way, deretche this, esquerte, that... don't go here...around there... And you end up lost anyway.
For me with directional dyslexia among other things , it's even more of a challenge.

Meanwhile, while lost, you discover things. Like markets in the Bario Santa Maria which sell conchal shells, asparagus, fish, shrimp, and herbs.

I've been completely spoiled living and working in one of the world's most famous urban markets (Granville Island in Vancouver) so it took me a couple of days of not being able to find good food in certain super marcados, and appreciate getting up early enough to hit the fresh produce stalls set up in the squares on certain days. My hotel room now has bags of tomatoes, peas, beans, and oranges piled beside bunches of rosemary and thyme. The tapas that is the local fare in the bars here is delicious, but not what you want to eat every day if you want to eat healthy.

There are stores that you wouldn't have known were there last night, or yesterday, as they were shuttered up and invisible. As a 7-day-a-week retailer, I am wondering HOW THE HECK DOES ANYBODY MAKE ANY MONEY WITH THESE HOURS?

While buying herbs today, I met Jose, Salvador, Luis, and Migel. We had fun listening to Chicuelo (a flamenco guitarist) on my iPod, and I took pictures of them. Jose danced for the shot (he was moved to do so, when he heard I was here to learn with Maria Jose Franco).



Jose and Salvador.

Click here for an audio file of me meeting Miguel, Jose, Luis and Migel! (A 500k WAV file.)

Later that evening I spent wonderful time with Pepe, Anna and friends when I had tapas at Pepe's bar near the big church by the guitar school. Everyone was practicing - you could see them in the hall through the open doors waiting to see the master teacher Manuel Lozano "El Carbonero".

Anna and Pepe sang, and I showed them all my friends on my laptop... showed videos of shows... showed
pictures of my flamenco sisters and brothers... of my store as a café (this they thought was great, but it took a while for me to explain). They took cards to look at the website and promised to email. (those that have access) we are so spoiled in Canada - we take all that stuff for granted -for SURE.

I'm going to bring Monica back here when she arrives back from Gibraltar. Right now, I'm going to get one last wandering day in before classes start. Adios amigos!!

Views of Jerez

Arrival in Jerez!

We arrived in Jerez late at night. Sleep deprived and excited, I watched from the windows of the taxi. As it made its way along the dark rural roads, Monica and our very friendly, chatty driver talked about her returning to her roots as she was born and spent the first part of her life not much more than an hour from here. I of course understand very few words of this... she leaned over translate every once in a while.

They switched to the subject of flamenco, and here I can catch some of what they say as I am familiar with the vocabulary, and have a a good idea of what they might say. Usual things - like... Some people are meant to dance - they are the ones that "HAVE IT" - just learning the technique is what's important after that ... the rest...well they are trying ...BUT....(you are to nod your head "knowingly" here ) How many years have you been dancing... What's happening in town tonight...

As I hear their voices in the backround, I see we are entering the outskirts of Jerez. Typically Spanish-looking buildings come into view in between the usual "outskirt' things like car dealerships and auto body shops that look the same anywhere in the
world.

AND THEN I see the first palm trees and peeling stucco walls that I know are surrounding courtyards... and I know I am here.
My heart shifts, and I see more doorways that are decorated in colorful tiles of all colors. Big wooden doors that have the metal knocker in the middle just like they are supposed to. The buildings and streets have a golden yellow light... their walls dotted with long thin windows with iron balconies, the windows themselves all shuttered up, and the entries of the buildings all closed up because it is late. I could burst, I'm so happy to be here at last.

We arrive at the hotel... and almost get run over in the narrow street by the surprisingly large number of cars charging through at a speed that certainly is going to take getting used to.

After settling in I start figuring out how to study the most useful phrases the fastest..as I obviously did not prepare NEARLY enough in the learning Spanish dept for this trip, and Monica is off to see her relatives.

NOTE TO SELF - "Definitely learn to speak the language first when pursuing one's life-long dream in a different country! "


The city is full of orange trees.


The cafe open on Sunday.


The bank that is across from a good cafe!


So here I sit 24 hours later (after a long walk to get my bearings and maybe re-set my jet lagged body clock and keep me awake). I am in a café full of local families (It's Sunday, and one of the few places open) getting strange looks from the dressed up older ladies, as I am alone, casually dressed, and tapping away at my laptop (which has GOT to be weird.) I get my unusually patient and good-humored waiter to take a picture of me.

I forgot to pack my dancing shoes..so those, and a toothbrush are my first goals tomorrow when the stores open.

I have no idea what it was that I just ate...I pointed to my mouth, and looked as hungry as I could when my waiter came to me with seven very fast sentences... and this is what he brought me. It looks all wiggly, so I am expecting what non latinos usually throw away in culteral difference. It tasted really good , and I was really hungry, so all is well.

Until the next blog... buenos noches!

Musical Planes

This has been a day about playing that old game of "running to catch planes connections", and the new game of "learning about how to creatively use wireless and lap-tops" while doing so. All this in order to try to staying in touch with the running of the hat store (as it is the time when all the spring hats arrive) and also to manage my blog.

Monica, a freind flamenco dancer also traveling to Jerez (some of you may have seen her perform at our last Spanish Cafe event patiently accompanied me as I set up my traveling office whereever I could. Plugging into power sources at waiting at gates,beside baggage carousels, catching roaming wireless in departure lounge's and cafes, I learned how far I can go pushing the bizzare world of computer gadgets, and the patience of those around me.Most of all - a sense of humour is needed, as it is completely hit and miss whether you can connect anywhere -anyhow.

On the practical side of things...

With a two hour delay at the Vancouver airport , we had to figure out whether were are actually going to stay in Frankfurt overnight or Madrid. We were missing our Jerez connection for sure... and also the Madrid connection. I'm glad I bought flight interruption insurance...I hope it covers it all. We are going to end up getting a hotel somewhere (I hope) and get new flights to Jerez.

Later... we land in Frankfurt. Find out if we can get another flight... YES! We can get another on Spainair. Running with bags and then busing from one termanal to another... then... when we get to Madrid... we try to find out what has happened to our baggage, as we have missed the flight to Jerez. And we are directed back and forth ...from one end of one terminal to another. sala cinqo, sala dos, no..it's at sala uno...

No luggage anywhere. Now they are going to see if it fell off somewhere between the plane and the
building. So no baggage yet and it's about 6 o' clock so far. (I am hooked up to a wall socket I found
beside the carousel.)

YAAAY!!!! Monica just found them - they'd fallen off a cart indeed.OLA Espaine!!!!

So the trek continued to another terminal by bus to go from place to place to buy new tickets to Jerez from Iberia Airlines. Back and forth, back and forth. This country is nuts... and I love it. I'm soooo tired , but I don't care.

We finally got tickets - our flight apparently leaves at 9.30 or so... we'll see.

I'll keep you posted!

"THAT girl needs a hat!"

One day to go. I've been practicing wearing my money belt. fleece, and knapsack.

Those who know me well, are aware of how little I have traveled on my own. Always traveling with someone by my side to lead the way (I get lost very easily), speak the language (I am linquistically challenged), and to carry what my patient husband has nicknamed "The Fridge", a giant suitcase into which I stuff my material world, and then try to justify to people why I need to take it with me.

It's funny - I've created a world of my own here in the store, a place that is safely outrageous, full of fantasy, and where the rest of the world comes to visit me. I'm not used to leaving it for long.

This time I'm venturing out to follow my dream that I've had my whole life - of going to Spain. To live that dream, I am dropping my usual persona (and accessories) and paring down to a knapsack, and what I can easily carry.

And so in my new casual and practical duds...I kicked along today in the sunshine doing last-minute errands on foot, feeling lighthearted and free. I caught myself in a window reflection and thought - hey great - who is that girl... she really needs a hat!

So that led me here, back to my own hat shop, where I picked out a very cool black empire state vintage baseball cap. THAT will solve the hair-product dilemma...

An eight-piece poorboy that gives me a bit of a boyish look, and a great red cashmere 504 from Kangol that matches my fleece jacket. I decided against the fedora I really liked, as it didn't work with the fleece, and the feminine stuff I usually gravitate to looked downright silly with the backpack.

I stuffed two of them into my pack...Popped the other on my head, thinking to myself how fun it will be to forget about my hair, and headed for home - on foot...because, of course, no high heels. Just me, my backpack, and my cool new hats!

The countdown to Spain

Three days to go. We've just finished clearing up the last bits of things left after the huge job of turning "Cafe Fedoras" back into Edie Hats. It's a bit like Cinderella after the ball, or going to the wardrobe and Narnia not being there.

And here I sit...bleary-eyed amongst the debris and chaos of my room... trying to figure out what is going to fit in my knapsack. I advise and inspire people on what to wear as part of my job, but knapsacks and minimal packable clothing is definitely not my specialty. I am drawing a blank... it all looks the same! Give me color, silk , velvet, feathers, sparkly bits and pieces - and I know what to do with it, but a few pieces of plain tops and pants that scrunch into nothing... and a fleece - I am stuck!

In between planning with the staff for how ithe stock will all be processed, priced and displayed on the floor while I'm away, I try to figure out how many contact lenses I will go through... where the heck is my bank card... how many hair products can I really do without.

Hmm... could I possibly squeeze in a dance class before I go?

No , no back to the job of the knapsack. Como dice "dental floss" en Español?