Back at the ranch

It's the morning after arriving home. My life is waiting for me, starting with a big buy of some of next fall's hats. Max, wearing his signature beaver felt western hat (worth over a thousand dollars) backs his truck up to the back door, unloads piles of boxes filled with samples, and two of my staff and I start picking styles and colors. As I field phone calls, arrange more appointments, answer questions about everything from what kind of print advertising we want to be doing, what is the job list of the stage manager we are hiring for the next event., can my oldest son have some money, how to clean a white fedora that a customers' girlfriend has borrowed and spilt drinks on...excuse me where is the bank machine...



I am back into my world of a busy retail store owner/producer/promoter/mother/wife – and flamenco dancer. I am lucky enough to have a chance of a weekly gig with friends at a resturant in town.

I take a deep breath and look around.

My office is chaos... the phone seems not to stop ringing... I have family and staff who need attention... a "to do" pile that is not to be believed...

And I realize I am the luckiest woman in the world.

What a difference a flight makes

I chose to spread my plane tickets over two days going back to Vancouver. Jerez to Madrid, on to Frankfurt and an overnight stay, and a civilized afternoon flight to Vancouver. I needed an emotional decompression chamber between the two worlds.

The dream of me in Spain was now a reality. Or shall I say ONE of my realities. My others are very real responsibilities, waiting for me in Vancouver. I have a big show and benefit for my friend Ja to produce on the 29th of April, and there are many details that have to be seen to PRONTO.

(We are turning the whole building that the store is situated in into a performance venue - decorating, bringing in a stage to highlight the ten piece Latin jazz band that is being assembled for the occasion. The fall stock for the store is waiting to be bought...appointments backed up to three weeks solid. My husband needs a holiday as he looked after things whilst I took off to follow my dream. My sons are looking forward to some mother action. My sisters have been looking after my parents who are elderly and ill.

Turning my nose back takes some real focus and intention.

Most of me still just wants to just think Flamenco... my biggest concerns being "Can I get that choreography down well enough so that I could express the aire inside me?" "How can I remember those cool remates that Chacha taught us, and somehow take on some of her way of moving that pulls the juice right out of the cante - the way she curls around herself anticipating the next space or beat" ..then meet
someone at a cafe somewhere and talk about it..before going off to the next class to learn something new.

After saying goodbye to my freind Manolo - the night clerk in my hotel - I begin the transition by crying all the way from Jerez to Madrid. The now familiar Spanish baggage mixups keep me bussing back and forth between the Iberia airport and Lufthansa desk at the Madrid airport for about three hours. My sobbing changes to sign language once again and I almost break my back lugging the three heavy bags I actually DID locate back and forth. I have had no sleep, and whiplash and nose are hurting. I feel like I am stoned and on some kind of odyssey . If I get through this to the other side...somehow I will understand.

Finally, I find my bags back at the original place I looked for them hours earlier (of course) and go to my gate area. I am bedraggled....puffy and sad, little weeps still erupting once in awhile. I start buying goodies for my loved ones back home, at the duty free shop. I meet Antonio from Seville who works there...and he says I look like I'm from Seville and I have nice eyes - what happened to them?...he helps me find the favourite cheese I wanted to buy .....sigh...I will miss this kind of thing. At home this would be considered a come-on...here it's just a way of interacting. Kind of like social dancing.

I board, and fall asleep against my will on the flight to Frankfurt - the sounds of the activity in the plane like a weird background score to my dreams...

When I get off the plane in Frankfurt...It is so obviously a different place. Everything is shiny and clean, and very expensive. The signs all pretty well make sense, even if I can't read them...and all the German people are helpful and speak English. I feel a wave of efficiency and sensible thinking coming on...... AARGHH!!!!!

As I stand in line waiting to find out about a hotel for the night , I am aware that I am rocking slightly... and I can feel myself slowly sinking
backwards.... and a I notice the struts of the ceiling are painted a funny yellow... I realize I am dropping.

Moments later with a bump on the back of my head, I come to, with lots of people around me , a nice man in a very lovely suit and topcoat smelling of very expensive cologne is asking me questions in German, to see if I am lucid.

I'm given some water, sit and rest, get lots of kind attention from some of the airport people in blue and green suits... they help me get a hotel... and before I know it I'm on the shuttle bus to a hotel on the outskirts of town.

Vancouver is looking better and better.

A Day in Seville

I have one day left. I have not packed. It seems I am a slob...and even after all these years with husband and children, I have reverted to some kind of teenage slovenly chaos. It could take me five hours to pack. My hotel room is covered in piles of clothes... food... flowers... shoes... flamenco posters... camera batteries... malfunctioning equipment of all sorts... high heels... assorted tickets.. and spent phone cards.

I weigh the odds. Be responsible, pack, sort papers and bills, clean my filthy clothes, throw away garbage so that Maria (who cleans the room and has kids the same age as mine) doesn't have to deal with it... or GO TO SEVILLE FOR THE DAY - SHOP AND EXPLORE!!!!! No hard decision here! Maria will forgive me.

Whooo hooo - Pat arrives at 9 am, and we go to the train station full of plans. I need to connect with wholesalers...CORDOBEZ Hats... Montons...Basque Berets... Flamenco Posters for the Spanish cafés we do at the store.. flowers for my costumes... flamenco shoes... and I'm hoping to have a flamenco dress jump out at me for less than the price I know they really are.





Seville turns out to more beautiful than I could have imagined. It is, as Pat says, a Flamenco woman's paradise. Stores and stores and stores and stores of Flamenco EVERYTHING, every price ...every imaginable colour... it is absolutely the the most intoxicating and sensual experience EVER. The buildings are golden and close together. The ancient walls are covered in ironwork. Flowers spilling from ledges. Windows that make you think the lover of your dreams is standing under each one. Music and smells coming from everywhere. There are more tourists here - more languages - more non-flamencos. Different, and more fancy than Jerez. Jerez seems to me more "real" in some ways... But this is wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.



Pat takes me to what she thinks is the right hat shop for me to connect with. She is absolutely right. They have been in business forever. They make their own hats for the horse shows and racing, stock many of the traditional and classic hats I want, and are established wholesalers. Likewise, the Monton store and warehouse we visit also has beautiful stuff. I am thrilled! We celebrate by lunching in a courtyard with a fountain flanked by Seville Orange trees with birds singing in them. It SMELLS of oranges!!!! I want to die from the sheer beauty of it.

Hot, tired and burnt out, we make our way back to the train station. We have missed the 6 pm train . Do I care? Not enough, it seems. I'm going to have to stay up all night to pack - my flight leaves Jerez at 7am.

We roll in at 10-ish, meeting Sylvia on the train back. She is is staying another two weeks or so. She and Pat trade class info. I kiss her goodbye and tell her I'll see her next year.

I go to my hotel, climb the stairs to my room, and begin the transformation process...

Click here for more pics of Seville!

Day at the beach in Chipiona

The sun is getting warm during the day now. Jill, Merek and I decide to go to the beach. I've got a bad cold.. and feel that lying on the beach is about all I can handle. Getting an average of 4 hours of sleep a night really takes its toll no matter how much fun you are having.

We meet at the bus station at 10 am, and of course, have café con leche in the already hot sun, while we wait for the bus. The ride is only half an hour or so, and as we leave Jerez the buildings give way to white square suburbs...and irrigated fields of what looks like legumes.. olive groves, vineyards... acres left fallow... and then arid sandy land, spotted with scrubby succulent plants. A kind of grey green mixed with dusty shades of beige and tan that is so very different than BC's lush temperate landscape.

I watch the country side go by and wonder how on earth it took me soooo long to get here. Images of my beautiful children appear before me as answers to my question.

We disembark at a bus station on the outskirts of Chipiona and walk through this holiday sea side town - like any other... only Spanish. Andalusia...bulerias and for some reason castenaras play in my mind..and I wonder if Jill and Merek would speak to me again if I danced on the beach.

It stretches out before us... and is empty! Only crazy foreigners would want to lie on the beach in March - because to a Spaniard this is still officially winter. Never mind that it is HOT during the day...they STILL walk around in sweaters, jackets and scarves. I think it's the tradition thing - really. You just don't start wearing summer clothes yet. You just don't. Nobody does. So there.



Anyway, we ARE foreigners... so we run onto the beach, spread out our towels, and Merek and I jump into the water - just to say we did. Then we spread out our picnic. We sleep, Merek builds a sandcastle, Jill tells us stories of South Africa and then we walk back through the town at 4 o'clock to catch the bus back.

And guess what , the sore throat seems to be improved. Better than cough drops any day!

Click here for a photo gallery of our day to, from, and at the beach!

Night at a Pena

It's Sunday am - I think. Beautiful Chacha took Kasandra, Pat, Jill and I to a Pena (flamenco club) in her neighbourhood (Bario Santiago) after class in the early afternoon, and then we went back after a short break at 8 or 9 pm (us not them - they
would be there non-stop till 8am the next day) last night - At least I think.

Unless it was a dream that I imagined. (Because I have imagined this before.)

Last night I lived one of my dreams for real...if that's not true I don't want to know! Here are some moments for you.

It was a beautiful sunny day. Spring has arrived in Jerez, and it is warm in the streets, and cool and dark inside the Pena building, which is only open for these events. The walls are covered in pictures of Flamencos past and present. One of them looks like me! Pat is going to find out who she is for me.

This paticular church-like space is decorated, so that you feel like you've dropped into an article on Andalusia in a National Geographic magazine, only it's for real. These people and their life is real.

Chacha led us to this place through the maze of narrow passageways and introduced us to the people (some of whom are her in-laws) who had already gathered, and were preparing food, (seriously - the BEST fried fish I have EVER eaten and I come from the land of fish and chips!) Visiting, talking, and singing bulerias.



A man named Luis who brought us food, vino, and beer joked and made up bulerias as part of his converstaion... rapping in time on the table in front of us with his knuckles...joking constantly. He is obviously some kind of genius with verse. His twin brother and he are famous palmists apparently.



A little Arabic girl with beautiful dark eyes, about 7 years old, arrives, dances to the rhythm they provide with their hands and voices...and then she is encouraged to sing. She is precioso and a natural. Everyone is enchanted.



We drink, and joke, and I take pictures. My camera as usual is giving me problems and just as Luis, his brother and I get someone to take a picture of us... my battery runs out! I blurt out "Oh my God - oh my God!" in frustration - and Luis sings a perfectly rymed buleria letra about the Canadian lady whose batteries run out and the close is "Oh my God ". He is a flamenco rapper!!!!



After a while we decide to go home and shower , some are going to catch a show then come back at midnight or so when there is going to be a performance.

When we arrive back later that night, my "newbie" and uncynical eyes take in everything with joy and awe. It is a unique micro-world here that exists nowhere else other than in other gypsy neighbourhoods. These people are big in their tiny world... and the Flamenco life is what they do and think about. Flamenco is life. They develop, percolate (and preserve) the pure art within this tiny tiny place. It's not art to them - it's just like breathing, they are born into and live it. The community is all here tonight to celebrate.

There are children (I recognize the little girl from this afternoon), old people (unlike our world they are honored participants), young people that are present and really listening to the cante (because THAT"S really what everyone is focused on). It truly truly is, that everything else is just an interpretation of the cante. People come to try and get what they can from this place... to take away elsewhere... but the ones that live it experience flamenco within the cante.

Tonight my frigging camera screwed up again (this time the cf card says it's full....and I could NOT figure out how to clear it) so I missed pictures of a special event. Sometimes I could just scream with frustration over my lack of technical troubleshooting knowledge. I have vowed to change this!

This night was a gypsy reunion I think. Maybe there were Castinas there (this is an old gypsy caste that were roaming people, and still are in many of their ways). The Farruca family are of these people, and though they are rich, and own lots of things, they retain
a certain kind of behavior and attitude and are predisposed to dance and sing and be musicians. I learned about Tangos being a baskets weaver's song while sitting and drinking, listening to tidbits of history.

There is so much tradition that these people still live within. Some of them care really very little (as far as I can tell) of the outside world. The people that I saw and was with during the day today, that were in casual clothes, are all back here tonight dressed in their finery. The men (young and old) are in beautiful shirts, ties (pink is in right now), brocade and silk vests... gold chains and tie clips... freshly washed hair, incredible shoes... (lots of white ones). Much cologne and aftershave. The crowd is so thick that the chests of the men are RIGHT in your face when you are squeezing through either to get a better look, or on your way desperately to the servecio...(or conversely desperately on your way to the bar!) And the shorter women's hair (which is often tickling your nose in the crowd) smells like different shampoos, hairsprays, and gels... and then THEIR perfume.

Mix THAT with the cigarette smoke coming from the mouth of almost everyone (except the older women) and you have me with my inhaler more often than I would like to admit to a chest doctor in Vancouver! (One of the drugs I am going to kick the habit of is my trusty bronchial dialator! - never mind vino, coffee, mancheao and jamon.)

Some of the middle-aged couples had coordinated their outfits - for instance, the man's suit or tie might match the woman's dress. If the woman is past say 45 or 50, she is usually stout and sometimes has a reddish dyed bouffant kind of hairdo - unless she is still sporting a jet-black, fuzzy-hair look. Apparently some families have early grey hair so there's a lot of hair dying going on. This was a reunion of different families and it's so hard to keep it all straight... and everybody seems to be cousins, even if it is distant, and they all have several names - AND nicknames.

Honest to God - most of the time - I'm so disoriented, even if they WERE speaking English it wouldn't make any difference! There is so much to know that isn't obvious...I just go by feel now, and hope for the best when talking to people. They also speak a dialect here that even most people who have learned Spanish can't get most of, because they drop all their consonants and run everything together really fast. (Kind of like dancing bulerias with their mouth!)

When the show on stage started (as opposed to the show in front of the stage) people shoved together, and I had I stand on my toes and crane my neck to see anything... lot's of shushhhhhing... lot's of halaos. Tonight there is actually a blonde woman dancing named Rubia and she sweats like crazy while delivering her palos with furious energy. I like her ...she is kind of organic, extremely emotional, and not trying to be pretty at all, but is very womanly and beautiful. The singers (3 very different) are of course ALL wonderful, and the hard-working guitarist is nice to watch. It's so crowded that I don't really see anybody I know until the breaks or at the end, when the crowds spills out into the narrow street on either side of the pena, and we stumble home - coughing from the smoke, and trying not to get lost in the winding, empty passageways. My high heels clip-clop and echo against the the shuttered windows and closed courtyard doors.

As I write this, Kasandra calls. (She didn't go last night.) She's at the flea market and says it's a beautiful day... meet her there. Oh God - I'm not even out from under the covers yet! Jookoo wanted to make me curry today...and Merek wants me to go to a bullfight later. I said I'd only stay for one kill - they are going to fight six – I'm not up for that!

So much for lying in bed on Sunday! MY sore throat's just going to have to come along for the ride! So I'm going to throw whatever I can into my knapsack and run out of here.

Adthio Mi Amores!

It's Monday again - shops are open!

Kasandra and I meet late in the afternoon, as shopping has two time slots here -morning and then evening, and both of us work at home in the morning right now.
We meet at one of the most central and therefore poplular flamenco accesories stores.

You have no idea what an incredible fix it is for women to mix the highly misunderstood and emotional female ritual of shopping with our flamenco habit.
Both activities involve the volatile and intoxicating subjects of questing, longing, passion, temptation, sensuality, compulsion, creativity, searching, inspiration, disappointment, grief, tragedy, and if you are lucky... accomplishment, satisfaction , euphoria and triumph!



Tamara is crammed with racks and racks of flamenco dresses. A sea of ruffles in every color you can imagine. Walls of big brightly colored earings, combs, fans, shoes, shawls, flowers... it's like one of those dreams you can have, that you are in a room full of money or yummy food, and you can just scoop it up by the bucket load (you KNOW the kind I mean!)



New stock arrives each day because the festival is on, and dancers from all over the world crowd into the shop along with the locals. If you are lucky you will be treated to sharing the fitting rooms with the tiniest most beautiful nina flamenco dancers, or young "brides of Christ" as little ones are fitted with dresses for their conformation, easter, and the fair that happens later in May..

Anyway, I wait for Kasandra, telling myself I am doing market research for the store, while I elbow and shove my way alongside my fellow hunters and gatherers, searching for items that match the dresses I already have...or that elusive great FIND!

She arrives, does a quick efficient inventory of the room, and we are off to wander for a couple of hours before the first show. Kasandra helps me buy a cheap cell phone, as it has dawned on me that if I am going to wander the streets alone at 2 am in morning, I should have emergency contact capabilities.

We next pick up Kasandras' dance shoes at a repair shop... which happens to be next door to a fancy dress store... that has a gorgeous dress in the window that Kasandra has been passing by every day ...trying not to buy. I talk her into trying it on, and I see her transform from a fleece and lululemon Vancouver casual girl... into a sex goddess - holy crap! (as she would say) SHE LOOKED AMAZING IN THIS DRESS! Luckily for her wallet, and unluckily for the rest of us... it was too big.



We press on fearlessly to the next waterhole - which is a jewelry shop where we want to find out what is with the orange and gold jewelry that women wear here. Turns out it is mediterranean coral set in gold. Beautiful... and the price of a whole flamenco outfit and accessories. Sigh... It was fun looking.




It's sunny today, and in the streets we meet other flamencos that we know, from all over the world, hunting and gathering as well. Some have grocery bags, some are picking up things between classes. We exchange greetings, share information, and press on. Lot's of people are doing the shopping they've planned for a year or more...some are old hands at this...others are overwhelmed as to what to do about the choice ...whether they can sell stuff at home to make funds available!
Much support is given if someone is feeling guilty about spending too much...or advice on how to manage the impulse, or get a better deal if that's what's needed...

I meet a man from Paris named Kristoff (he in the orange hat and fabulous green suit above) Susan has found a great bag for the price of Tapas....
We hit as many shoe stores as possible, because the sales are on ...and the prices for good Spanish shoes are UNBELEIVEABLE.
Dancers arrive at class laden with their latest purchases.... and if having scored, looking as flushed as if they had just had an affair...
Now think about this ...shopping doesn't hurt anybody...and you get to keep the object of your desire for yourself afterwards!
Hmmnnnn...there you go - another way to help husbands and boyfreinds feel comfortable with the bill....
beats hiding it under the bed and saying " OH that....I've had it for ages, haven't you seen that before?"

Meeting people in Jerez

I have met so many people in Jerez. I would like to share some of them with you. (Check back as I will be adding more!)



Here's Fatima who owns a shop on the corner of a very small winding street just down from the Tapas bar where Juan Jose works. If I ever get my iPod uncorrupted... you will hear her, and her guitarist husband.



Sitting in this cafe enjoying the sun, and one of Jerez's specialties - a sherry (they simply call it "vino" ) and squid Tapas is Isabel, a dancer from Germany.



This is Pablo (with Monica and I after a show), who is a dancer from Madrid, and is taking Monica's class with Antonio el Pipa. He is charming and jokes with everybody......



Susan the beautiful doctor who helped me with my nose... she was just picking up stuff from the healthfood store.



This is Bella from Berlin, whose parents are professional flamenco dancers there. She is planning to go professional. She and i are both recovering from a colds, and exchanging medicine advice. We sat beside each other at several shows , and Bella would point some of the well known people in the audience were.



Alysia is a beautiful young woman from Washington DC, and was just on her way home when we met. She is just about to start graduate studies...and her mother is a learning disabilities teacher , (we had a lot to talk about)



These two girls were in my first class. The picture is taken just outside the gym door. The blonde girl is from Hungary. The other girl is from Japan.



Jose talking to Monica about flamenco (what else) in a bar. You see Jose everywhere - at the Penas performances, cafes, bars and usually he has a cigarette sticking straight out of his mouth when he talks.

The Los Farruco show!

I have just returned to my hotel at 2 am...It was most intense and incredible evening.

Earlier after climbing down the narrow staircase from Jookoo's roof... I walked across town to the dance studio, the one tucked into the beautiful courtyard across town.
It often takes me a few tries to find it... with a few knocks on doors that look right but open onto the wrong courtyard...
I get there... and of course, I have the time wrong... and I have to come back in an hour... which is fine because that means I can hike across the cobblestone streets BACK to the square with the Teatro... and maybe find someone scalping tickets.






The Farruco show is apparently NOT to be missed. It's one on the hottest shows of the festival. Everyone is talking about it and it has been sold out for weeks.
The Farrucos are one of the Royal gypsy families. Their dancing heritage goes way way way back. Their family surname is actually Montoya.
The grandfather patriarch is dead now, but the sons, mother, aunt, sisters and grandsons carry on the legend..
There are hundreds of others in the family...
My new business Miguel (shoe maker/designer) is friends with the Farruco family… and tells me all the family lineage which I just can't keep straight.
He says he went to one of their wedding celebrations where 500 were invited, and 1500 turned up!

I have trouble finding someone to buy tickets from... I meet Jill who is searching too.
I have to run back to my private class with Maria Jose... having struck out...

I run there... class is great! Maria Jose works me very, very patiently on one darn llamada until I have it just right... I've heard stories about other teachers this week, and I can't believe how lucky I am to have found her.
She is so patient with me. A very generous and non judge mental teacher. And I am learning.
When we are finished, I run back to the Teatro .... Miguel spots me and tells me to meet him after the show, even if I don't get a ticket ...and he'll makes sure I meet Farruca, and Farruco as he says they are friends…..

I wait in the cold with Jill outside the same glass doors that met my nose just 5 or so days ago...
and suddenly an older british man says "ticket?"
AHHHHH! YES!
I abandon poor Jill, (whom I hope will forgive me some day) and get into the absolutely packed theatre to watch one of the most exciting shows I've ever experienced.
I end up sitting next to the British man who's name is Robin Totton. He turns out to be a friendly man, and local Flamenco aficionado. You may know of him already from a book he wrote about Flamenco. He lives in Jerez..... knows Gary from Vancouver… and says Gary (I've heard this before) is one of the few foreign guitarists the gypsy's like playing with.

The power coming off that stage was unbelievable.
I have had an average of 3 hours sleep for that last week.... my face still hurts, and my whiplash has gotten worse..... my asthma has returned full force.... and you'd never know it - the energy that surged through me watching this.
It matters not.
The audience was filled with the local community....they screamed, and haloed and encouraged and did palmas... and stamped and told each other to be quiet.... what a wonderful un-ruly bunch they were!!!

And OH DEAR GOD THE SHEER MALE BEAUTY ON STAGE!!!!!

No sets ... no props... just them.
Pilar Montoya ("La Faraona")....huge and beautiful..... Her bulerias were full of furious energy, and she actually LEPT off the stage and she must weigh in at 250 lbs at least! Then sometimes she hardly moved anything except her belly and hips to the beat with her arms stretched high in the air... her face jammed right into the face of the singer in front of her.

Farruca (Rosario Montoya) was incredible.... she danced with such elegance and power. And when her son (Antonio "Farruco") and her nephew (Juan Antonio-otherwise known as "El Barullo") joined her onstage it was so exciting. They would literally LEAP out from the wings, and swoop around her... the three of them forming some kind of crazy power triangle.
The audience would go WILD every time.
"El Barullo" entered the Theatre like a Cannes festival movie star, in red scarf draped over a black velvet suit - cut snug and tight..... swarmed and followed by television news cameras..... That boy REALLY knows his publicity stuff...... He strutted elegantly, and full of the royal "WE".

At the end when everyone did bulerias por fiesta, a tiny tiny wee little Farruco boy came out... looked like he was maybe five or six.
He was a miniature version of his famous... male family members.
He was dressed in a tiny elegant white suit and shoes... and a black shirt to match his almost waist length jet black hair.
He danced the bulerias with Maria Vizarraga .... coaxing out the burst of dance from him - by singing to him bent over from a couple of feet away.
He was absolutely brilliant!

Afterwards the crowds gathered in front of the Theatre ... it was cold... and yet no-one was leaving..
I met up with Monica... and told her about Miguel, and we decided to wait for him.
He found us... and then at one point he led us to the back side of the building where a crowd was gathering at the stage door.
It was mostly gypsies waiting to meet "their " super stars. (they definitely have certain ownership on this one!)
The big luxury bus was waiting, and the crew was already loading the wooden stage flats into a truck....
We realized that they must be going on to another gig, as the crew was moving like lightening - they were OUT of there.
But Miguel asked if I wanted my picture taken with Farruca, because she would spot him , and let him through...
I thought -hey - why not! (By this time I am caught by the fever and am a full fledged groupie!)

So we are waiting with the crowd outside the stage door. At one point the crowd used their pent up energy by doing bulerias por fiesta , and the singer was a little boy about... I'm guessing 11 or 12. And he was good.
We moved over right into the edge of the circle with them, and did palmas with the crowd-it was wonderful
Then the stage door burst open... and Farruca's son (the handsome new patriarc of the family) led the whole family out into the crowd stationed between them and the bus.
It took them forever to make their way 1/4 of a block! The crowd attached themselves to their idols like one single organism stroking their hair, and yelling and talking pictures, and they were all so loving, and patient and open to it all.

At one point Miguel moved us closer to Farruca, and asked her if she would have her picture taken with his friend.
She said yes... and put her arms around me in a well practiced photo-op pose and smiled. My god, she is so beautiful up close!
The family genes not only contain the blueprint of creative genius... they have physical beauty and charisma as part of the deal.

So then as life would have it.... MY CAMERA BATTERY DIED !!!!!!!
So once again, I learn some crazy life lesson.... ah let's see what it is this time....... YES !
- Buy many batteries as you can carry, and always have them at hand - DAMN.

Monica , Miguel and I, decide to go and warm up somewhere and have tapas... we follow behind the Farruco bus as it slowly winds it's way through the narrow streets, and the most tenacious of the young girls in the crowd, stoke the windows where Farruco is sitting... and try to take more pictures with their cell phones.

a sunny Sunday afternoon in Jerez

The longer I stay here the more comfortable I become. I'm getting past the 'First time at the festival don't know the ropes" stuff.
Settling into a place, and becoming part of the daily life , takes time, and getting out and meeting people.
And to feel that comfortable you need to feel familiar.
I now have my established routes that I find my way around with . it's a small area of the town , that has at it's centre - my hotel. From that point , I extend my territory a little more every day , as I add recognizable streets and landmarks to my world.

I've met some really wonderful people here.
Lot's of people recognize me, and greet me with a freindly Ola!
.....and because I am no stranger to the not so open minded, underside of a small towns' rumour mill...I'm sure there are also some doozy stories going around, about the lady with the bruised eyes staying at the Hotel El Coloso.

Take today for example...I was working away at my computer...and looked out my window - ah...the sun was out!
After yesterdays' cold miserable wheather..it seemed crazy not to take advantage..and sit on the balcony in the sun, with my lap-top...well - on my lap.
It felt so good, as the cold has been no good for my wiplash..the pain in my neck gets worse with the cold I notice. The heat of the sun feels so relaxing...I don't care what anybody thinks on the street....

Anyway...as I sit there , the first thing that happens..is a lady, her husband and grandchildren all dressed for church, stop to get into their car..but not before all looking up disapprovingly.
and very suspiciosly...
Then a few minutes later...
Who walks by , but Jookoo! (of course-that guy is everywhere)
I call to him , and he tells me he was just asking Kasandra about me - how was my face etc etc...

I say I'm just on my way to get something to eat before class...and he says come on over to his place (it's the next street over) we'll eat lunch on the roof. He makes a great aromatic chicken and rice with tumeric, cumin,ginger...YUM.
(sounds glamourous yes?)

No folks - not glamerous - but just plain great. He was very simply generous with me.
So we sat on the roof of his building in the sun ...
eating , talking about where the roots of flamenco come from (Jookos favourite subject) ...the music business (his other favourite) ...dreams (Jookoos's got lots) ....how to best build a web -site with no money...how to print cd's with no money........small town traditional codes and ethics and how easy it is to screw up...........where on earth to get Macintosh support in Jerez (nada )...how to best grind cardamon ...
and then I went to class , not before he gives me advice on how to score scalpers tickets for Los Farruco's show tonight which is completely sold out..

Early morning Peña

A Peña is the ultimate Jerez buleria experience.
It is a place where the authentic Flamencos of Jerez gather.

They dance and sing the bulerias por fiesta ...which is the high art of exchange and communication in the Jerez Flamenco style.
This is the place where artists and "royalty" of the community gather... and is where the famous and celebrated stars of flamenco get started, and still come to pay homage… and take part.
It is a club and we have the privelege to come because of the festival.

These affairs don't start till the wee hours of the morning ... in this case we arrived at the place somewhere around 12.30 to beat the crush of people that would fill the place.... and the Peña began.... I think... about 1.30 or so.

Now... in this situation, it's all about codes of behavior. From the dance and cante itself… to how you conduct yourself during the evening.
Only experience ... or someone telling you the ropes , can demystify the experience.
They tolerate us foreigners and are genuinely freindly , ... but we are only hangers on....
Luckily, I had beside me this evening, my new business contact Miguel - the flamenco shoe maker from Madrid.
He was at the big show at the Teatro earlier in the evening... (here that means the show that started at 9 ...) and came with us (Pat, Merek and a bunch more of us from around the world.... to the Peña.

He knew people... and this night was a special night because of the festival. All the professionals were there, and the older more well known men from the community, were singing, and dancing.

I was lucky enough to watch the first part of the evening from the section that was roped off for the club members... two girls from Italy knew someone ... and he said they could sit there... and they pulled me with them past the rope -holy shit!! I was only a few rows away!!!

The crowd was full of the people I had seen at the big shows all week.
It was pretty great to be finally standing next to the Jerez Flamencos drinking vinos, and having Miguel explain to them what my black eyes were from. (who knew what an ice-breaker they would be!)
At one point when the crowd was so thick... (I had stopped sitting at this point, ) and was at the back near the bar squished up against the smokers and drinkers , and standing people... I was literally crammed up against the wet coat of a very very tall and strikingly handsome young man..... I was looking up at him just struck by his dramatic look... and Miguel elbowed me, laughed, winked and whispered "Jeronimo".

For those of you who don't know ... Jeronimo is a very, very popular and good young guitarist. It's kind of the equivalent of being crushed up against a young Mick Jagger I guess.... (only waaaaaaay better looking!)

(For anyone who cares... I have saved drops of water from his coat in a little vile, and am selling it for a hundred euros a drop! (kind of like holy water -eh?)

Anyway... after consuming way too much vino and cigarette smoke… I decided to leave early with Pat and a dancer from Paris as Miguel’s few English words were disappearing as the night wore on... and I don't trust my communication skills at this time of night!

So into the rain we pushed.
As I lay in my hotel room... late in the wee early morning hours... I heard palmas.... and cante from the street below... local flamencos making their way home from the Peña.
Ole....

How Kasandra suffers for her art, and the Queen of the castanets

An ideal day in Jerez during the festival,
is one in which you have eaten, drunk, socialized, gone shopping , and danced...all before seeing the first show of the evening.....then a visit to a Peña (an all night flamenco club - where the "real" stuff happens in Jerez)

Yesterday would have been one of those days were it also sunny.
Instead... The cold and rain came back, and that complicated the socializing and shopping part until the shows started.

BUT not much gets in the way of the flamencos and the shows...it just involves getting soaked - simple.
We will do anything to get our fix.

So .......I spent the day working in my hotel room...(behind the neighbouring doors I could hear others practicing guitar, castanets, cante...) and Kasandra spent her day working on grant proposal paperwork...we commiserated about the complications of office work abroad...like a printer = we need printer access!
As you know by trying to read my lengthy blog entries....it's hard to read off the screen.
Much easier to print out and read.

We arrange to meet at the supermercado at 5 pm, as we knew we could at least shop for essentials while waiting for the rain to let up and then find the famous "bum skirt store" . (Susan found these great dancing skirts in the new style for a great price )
...before hitting the first show of the evening just outside of town.

The rain did not let up...so we spent the hour in the grocery store...until it was time to get a Taxi out of town.
We wandered the isles amusing ourselves by decoding the labels on different types of Spanish soaps , skin creams, packaged convenience foods (including a good potato torta , and Kasandra's favorite ready made gazpacho (andalousian cold soup).

Then a dash in the rain... HEY! - there's a bus waiting that's goes to that town and one of the girls we are with suggests we get on.
BIG MISTAKE ... as it is a milk run, and with the windows steamed up and packed with wet smelly people. We arrive half an hour later, and poor Kasandra (who like things to be ordered and efficiently run....) is car-sick, home-sick, wet , cold, frustrated , and very grumpy.

She suffers terribly for her art and students... This girl is Vancouverite through and through! How she has managed to come back here seven years in a row with her temperament, shows how dedicated she is about staying up to date with current flamenco, and how seriously she takes her job. It's not easy for her here, yet she is determined to do what she came to do.
This country is a logical left/brainers' nightmare! It defies organized thought.
She and I are constantly amused and entertained by our personality differences. I love the dirt, smoke and chaos here.
I feel like I've come home. Spain works like my head.
She is completely stressed by it. Kasandra loves her life at home. She misses her husband, the clean air... the way things work more logically... her rice cooker ....people who don't think she is Japanese....
She has a great tongue in cheek sense of humour about herself, and a straightforward honesty. The more I get to know her, the more I respect and appreciate this woman.

On that horrid bus we met Jill...(a flamenco teacher from White Rock BC) just in from a holiday visiting family in South Africa, all tanned and looking forward to hanging out at the beach between classes. We let her down gently, that if she goes to the beach, she'll need a parka!

We all finally file into the dry and warm theatre, and when the show starts, we are treated like the oddest and most charming couple.
I as yet have no idea who they were... but she was a virtuoso castanet player...and he an incredible classico spanish guitarist.

The lights came up on a man with waist length straight blonde hair tied back in a long pony-tail .
... He took the looooooongest time in complete silence to position and re-position his body in perfect form. Placing his hands "just so", and shifting the guitar around until it was "just" right.
He then completed the position by embracing the guitar, and literally curling around it with his head tucked right down ... almost touching his nose on the strings so you are watching the top of his head, and hearing his breathing through the whole performance .

Then out came an extra-ordinarily beautiful and striking looking woman with long curly red hair , and the most peculiar and unflattering brown patterned dress which she wore through the whole performance ....
(it aptly had a big black Q printed on the front ... I can only think it meant -- Por Que? -- “why” this dress?
She was so beautiful ..I wanted her to be in something that suited her.

They were the most interesting duet I've seen in a long time... and both brilliant musicians.
She on the what I can only call nouveau/classico/expressionistic/Isadora Duncan castanets....and he - Mr. modern Segovia 2006 man.

Honestly - he played beautifully ....and she expressively and with astounding skill.....interpreting his music with the castanets , sometimes all over her body....

She with extroverted visually dynamic expression ... and passion.… and he with powerful introversion. They comunicated in some deep way, and it showed as they performed each piece.

Over and over ....( half the amount would have wowed us. )
But by the time it had finished... I had re-designed the dress about a hundred times....

I can't help but hear Oscar's voice...."LESS IS MORE".

Kasandra showed us how to best score a taxi in a crowd....which is basically push your way yelling in Spanish "IT'S MY TAXI GET OUT OF THE WAY! (she has learned this basic survival skill out of pure nessecity!

The reality of chasing your dreams... (plus a request for your opinions...)

I finally changed my tickets to leave a week later!! I don't come home till March 16th -Yahoo!!!!!

For just for everybody who thinks I can just do that , and not have repercussions ....... (the most important of which is the shock , and then the support of my business partner and husband - do you really think he thinks it's fair I get to do all the fun parts of the business?) No, we did not have the cash for me to come. Like most normal people, I have to work very hard to make a living , and juggle credit lines. I just really push the envelope, that's all.... and have a lot of experience doing it. I would never do anything in my life if I didn't take risks. I've already made a lot of mistakes, and survived well.

My reality is , that this is very much a working trip. It has to pay for itself - in contacts, productive marketing, and, well... basically I'm going to start importing things from Spain that suit the store. We were already trying to find a supplier for really high quality Cordobes hats, and for all of you who are patiently waiting for me to get a new supplier for authentic Basque Berets - I'M ON IT!! My day is spent doing many things that will also make this a very important business trip.
Richard and I e-mail constantly night and day.

As usual....I find that everything is connected. The other day Maria Jose (my teacher)and I were walking to her car to go to a private class, and in the street a shoemaker and wholesaler from Madrid stopped her because he recognized her. Actually I had noticed him following us from the other class we were just at (God I love this country!!!). He pulled some absolutely beautiful shoes from his bag (her size of course) and she bought a white pair, while they discussed (in Spanish) the rosewood heel that they were made with, and the better sound it makes. (I'm getting much better picking up what people are saying sometimes.)

Anywaaaay, they are really - beautiful, strong and gorgeous quality leather. The company name is Senovilla. It's the mother company of Guirarda (Guirarda as you might know, was bought out a few years ago, and the quality has since really declined)
Senovilla shoes are all hand crafted. He makes for the performers, teachers here in Spain... his workshop only has three people in it.
After the AMAZING Sara Baras show (story to come) last night, Miguel and I went to he local bar that he knew about, that the performers hang out at to talk business.
For those whom are interested... I have some Sara Baras as gossip ... She is known for her incredible costumes... and last night they were absolutely perfect - EXCEPT FOR HER SHOES! Hers were mostly black no matter what she was wearing - ridiculous!
(I thought Armani had designed the costumes because they looked like his work... as he designs all of Joaquin Cortes' stuff... but Kasandra looked at the program... and Sara does all her own designs - simply astounding)

Miguel was there, because he had made her shoes. He is trying to convince her to wear color on her feet.

I'm wondering if any of you Canadian Flamencos would buy these shoes from me out of convenience... if they ended up being about the same price as in Spain, depending on the exchange at any given time. The shipping would be cheaper than if you bought them on the web (because of course I would be shipping in quantity) and it would work out cheaper. I figure the other advantage is that I would be dealing directly with Miguel... and that would mean better service, and things could be returned to me, and all that jazz.

OK ... here's some market research going on through the web. So if anybody has thoughts and feedback out there, I'd really appreciate it... give me an e-mail either at the store (ediehats@telus.net) or me personally at edieamber@yahoo.ca. I'm also going to import shawls, but mostly intending them for my regular customer base as special fashion pieces as they are a historic classic. And, more than likely because I am an earring freak, I will bring in flamenco combs, jewelry and nice fans... but we'll see about that as time goes on.

Anyway, right now I am editing video clips... transferring photos... trying to fix corrupted files on my iPod... (my audio/visual/wireless-run office/studio), and practicing my choreography as I have a class at six, and three shows to make it to. Food and vitamins are being consumed unceremoniously by chunks in between typing and dancing. This means consuming water is terribly important, not only to think straight, and for energy, but to help my darn nose and face to heal. (See previous entry!)

Here are some shots of my office away from home. As you see it's more like a student hovel than a luxurious pad!


Why is my "office" set up on the bed?



Because there's no room on the desk, of course!


The view out the window: driving, Spanish style! The red car is trying to leave... but is being thwarted... (I bet he makes it out though)

Well, I better get back to work. I'm hoping to get enough done so I can go exploring before class. I saw really great shoes on sale for 7 Euro for God's sake!!!!! And I want to have a really nice performance dress (Sara Baras style of course!) made by a woman in town who is apparently very good. Monica is having a Farruca outfit made that sounds incredible. (Of course, a flour sack on that girls' body would look incredible...)