Edie's Travel Adventures

The Long Trip Home.

2007-04-04T17:07:00.000-07:00

Air Ports travel have changed.

In 2007, what has happened to air travel, makes the idea of the slow train and boat a little more attractive again. Unfortunately planes are still the faster way to go....so uncomfortable, exhausting, humiliating, and frustrating hours spent wondering what on earth good this new cockamamie rule and producer of longer line-ups is going to do... seems to be just part of the deal. Better just get over it. Buck up... unpack that bag, show your zip lock bag...and TAKE OFF THOSE SHOES.

The trip home from Spain was like a cold shower slapping me to my senses so that I would not be unrealistic and sentimental about leaving Seville. SNAP OUT OF IT GIRL - YOU GOTTA WORK ON MONDAY. GET REAL.

My intention was to spend my last day, dancing, sunning, and taking pictures...and generally savouring the last hours of what had become my Seville home. Unfortunately a traveling nightmare was ahead of me.

Or not ...apparently life's reality depends on how you look at it (the glossy wall adds along the moving sidewalk between terminals in the Heathrow airport reminded me of this, as I pushed the ridiculously heavy cart of bags between terminals with at that point having already waited all night in the Barcelona airport.)

Annoying wisdoms.

More annoying wisdoms.

Ok, ok already.

My tickets were from Seville to Barcelona to London to Toronto to Vancouver. Get the picture already? - Don't ask why...the possibility of error and screw up was enormous and well....I SCORED!!!! It was like a comedy of errors from start to finish.

The Trek back home began at 9 pm Saturday night with fond good-byes to Luna our new friend.....and a taxi to the Seville airport.

Waiting for a taxi outside our apartment.

Off to a flight to Barcelona where I would wait till morning early morning with my friend and Flamenco colleague's luggage and precious guitar, as his flight which left later in the day, was too close to the next flight for him to check baggage in and out.

Finding the cart with the good wheels.

Why I did not book a ticket straight from Seville to London, and turn the whole thing into a Fashion research trip is still a mystery to me, and I will try again next time to think straight.

So...I sat there, at midnight on a pile of bags...and thought, well girl...here you are in the middle of the Barcelona airport...known worldwide for it's pick-pockets and con-artists....with a huge pile of heavy bags , and an expensive Flamenco guitar...(I had to stay up all night guarding them till the ticket booth opened at 5:20 am.) Then get the bags all back in London...hump them across 3 terminals.....to check them in hopefully, in the most security paranoid airport currently in the world.

Oh goody.

Let's see, I thought ... how I can make this more fun....I can write, sort pictures
for my half written bogs...e-mail and connect with friends in Canada...drink wine.

3 am in the barcelona cafeteria.

And...I started making friends...Yolanda..a woman from Barcelona at 1:30 am
helped me figure out how to buy wireless internet access on my laptop because
I have such trouble reading forms, (it's almost impossible for me in English,
let alone Spanish. She also told me how to stay safe in the airport...not to trust
anybody who approaches.

Yolanda helping me buy wireless internet.

Then there was Rachael from the states, studying in Florence...who needed to
borrow my internet.

Rachael borrowing my new internet access.

And a lovely girl from Portugal.

Some how I made it through that night.

I ended up about fourth in the huge line up at 5 am to check in for the
London flight.

A new friend from Massachusettes.

Get to he counter...NO TICKET BOOKED. I can't believe it. I had to go to
another part of the terminal (pushing heavy cart with all the bags and a
knap-sack and guitar on my back) buy a ticket fast...then get back to the
end of the now VERY LONG line-up...barely get one of the last tickets.

Going back to the end of the line.

THEN RUN FOR THE GATE (which was not very close) and JUST make it.

I arrive London. I am calm because I have something like six hours.

Make my way to baggage claim, stack and balance weight all on one cart
(because actually I'm fairly short and it's hard work). I didn't find out this until later, but apparently there are porters for this kind of situation...DAH - makes COMPLETE sense now....no matter HOW much they would cost...and I have found out that in fact -it's not so expensive - that's why these services actually EXIST!

Joining the race for the bags.

So...the long trek to terminal 3.

A directional dyslexics nightmare.

Have a collision in the underground passage between terminals, with another cart piled high...and two of my nails ripp off at the nail bed and I am bleeding.

Get to terminal 3...line up...They won't let me check in Juan's guitar...So I have to carry it as well as my heavy knapsack. Remember...

Precious Cargo.

By now I have not slept all night, and the night before we had left Jesus and Luna's at 2 am or so...I am at this point feeling nauseas because I haven't had a chance to stop and eat since the cafeteria in the barcelona airport at around 3 am.

Get through the AMAZING securities checks...of which there are three separate ones that day. (must have been some sort of incident again in Iran.) IT WAS SOOOOOOOOO crowded on terminal 3. Thousands of people everywhere...all the line ups including bathrooms were long.

Line ups for everything were long.

After finally getting through security, and having my knap-sack up packed and searched THREE times - I'm not kidding...I'm standing in line and realize my PERIOD HAS STARTED and I have nothing with me to stop the flow...oh great I feel comfortable now...

I get to the place where they post the gates...

Heathrow gates at noon.

I find I have somehow been releived of my pouch with boardind pass, and some english pounds and stuff...for my Toronto/Vancouver flight. IT IS MISSING. Holy shit.

I try to find someone to tell me what to do now.

I am told to go to the supervisor deck at security...(this means by the way a half hour trek back through a different route...

Everyone is confused.

Find out it has not been turned in...have to go find an Air Canaada agent...far away
again...get another one issued.

Finally find Air Canada and get that done...and some bandaids for my bleeding fingers...and procede to the area that posts where the gates are.

The guitar strap on Juan's guitar case is faulty...and keeps unexpectedly unhooking....and my own knap-sack is sooooooo heavy that my balance is thrown every time it happens as I am trudging along in the crowds. I AM NOT HAPPY.

When I get to the board where hey post the gates, where they conveniently have the resturants right there by the table...I gratefully get a plate of spaghetti and some wine and eat.

When Juan arrives, it is time to check in. Which we do...and off to Toronto...
On the plane to Toronto, my legs and ankles swell up like one of those old ladies you see stuffed into their shoes (never happended to me before-even when I was pregnant!) I felt like someone had blown up my legs with a bicycle pump!

When we landed in Toroto, we had to get the bags, go through customs, and go to the next terminal (of course) and get on the next flight. MY legs were KILLING me....it was awfull! We JUST made it again.

Luckily when I got my seat on the plane from TO to VAN...I was at the emergency exit...and there was just enough room in front of my seat. That as soon as the lights were turned off...I snuck down onto the floor...and slept with my legs elevated on my knapsack..covered myself with my jacket..(told the guy sitting next to me not to tell)
and I was hidden from the flight attendants in the dark.

So I was able to sleep for about 3 hours and my legs reduced in size enough that they stopped being painful. IT WAS SOOOOOOO WEIRD!!!!!!!

Anyway....I got a GREAT sleep last night...everything looks kind of normal again.

I'M HOME !!!!
I will get into practicing my new dances (which ought to be only be about six months work or so...give or take a few months.)

I'm hitting the gym today...as well as anything I can book Spa/like....
And am starting a fat/free...fresh vegetable whole grain blessed diet...and am back getting into shape. WHEW!....

"Triana, Triana que bonita esta Triana..."

2007-03-25T13:09:00.000-07:00

It's the morning March 15th, and I'm sitting in bed with my doors open to the sounds of Seville waking up. The sun is just starting to break over the rooftops, the doves are cooing, and my favourite pair are sitting together kissing on the ceramic spire of the building across the street.

The Ceramic Spires I see from my window

We really scored with this apartment. We’re able to use the roof as a practice studio, so don't have to rent, one. Other flamencos come and visit, eat dinner stay over and give private classes. It's been flamenco heaven.

The Roof a.k.a. The Studio

This morning Bonnie is going to run through with me what we did in my class yesterday with Juana Amaya. I think Juana has a
style that suits me, not the fashion in dancing right now that I'll describe as "Modern Curly Confusing Flamenco". My realistic and time limited 50 year old self, went to the general classes and realized if I was going to use anything that could be picked up in 3 weeks here I'd better be directed and focused about it...not be afraid of what anybody thought...(especially Juana Amaya) and figure out myself what I wanted to take back. I gathered my courage, and asked her to give a me simple Solea in which I can concentrate on the aire. I told her (through Bonnie) about my confusion with mirrors and unusual learning difficulties...other than her thinking me very very odd, I think I got my point across. She was very patient with me.

Juana Amaya and Edie

As for what I saw in the big classes...HOLY OLYMPIC FOOTWORK. These classes are not for the faint of heart or the untrained! Another trend or "fashion "(if you can describe learning trends that way) is super complicated footwork and heavy rhythm patterns. Hardly believable let alone achievable without devoting your entire existence to it. (and some people DO) There are girls that have been here in Seville studying for years. Amazing...but not very achievable, useable, or realistic for anybody in the world of Vancouver gigging.

Having said that...last night we saw a show of the MOST AMAZING musical rhythmical, IMPOSSIBLE footwork. Manuel Lina, Olga Pericet, and Marco Flores did a show with an amazing group of artists backing them. I swear...I saw last night the kind of work that has upped the bar here. It made me want to be 6 years old and starting out.

Esperanza Singing

Forget the nunnery, "GET THEE TO A FLAMENCO CLASS"!

It was the most spectacular display of human ability -

HOW CAN THEY DO THAT??????????

Tablao in Seville

The world of Flamenco inside Spain is a different reality than Flamenco in the rest of the world. Of course it couldn't or shouldn't be any other way. It is indeed the Mecca...the petri dish...the cradle...the grocery store of Flamenco to the world. The place where we all choose something to take away, and cook up our own things. It even isn't mainstream in Spain...the Flamenco Puro is still a specialized almost lost, and independent art form. People that we have met who live in Seville, for the most say they don't know much about Flamenco...but they are glad it exists. The young people are generally not so interested in the old stuff. There is much opinion here that it is in danger of being lost.

What I saw last night is only ONE company, ONE style...of the new evolving flamenco that is being performed. And it is nothing short of a an artistic miracle what is happening and originating here...and being shown in the rest of the world.

Looking into the alley way, one night later protesters filled the streets

The reality for these artists is that they have a very very hard time making a living as Flamenco artists in Spain. The professionals have to tour other countries like Germany, Japan etc etc. Teaching us junkies that come from all over the world is partly how the artform stays alive. And it is a constantly evolving artform...struggling to survive by some people's opinion.

You would think the average Spaniard would be knowlegable about the different forms of Flamenco...but
really...other than Sevillanas...(the folk dance that is the focal point of the huge city party here called Feria). Generally , ordinary people don't know much more about Flamenco than the tourists do. People that we have met who live in Seville, have told us that no-body is interested much that lives here. They say that don't know much about Flamenco...but they are glad it exists. The young people are generally not so interested in the old stuff. There is much opinion here that it is in danger of being lost.

The other end of the Alley

BUT once you are in these areas in Southern Spain that ARE the centres and you know where to go - it is a Flamenco junkies' heaven. The only problem is there is too much to choose from. Where do you start to observe and learn? Like any drug of choice - if there are unlimited amounts available, you could just gorge...spend a hedonistic month just plunging in - eating up as much as you can, without necessarily retaining anything...getting burnt out and mighty sick.

Hmmmm...sounds really, really tempting. YUM! GIMME!

Or...in my case (and like life in general for me.) I figure out painfully (for that entails being honest about what I am needing most, and capable of achieving), what my goal is...how much of a financial debt I can get away with racking up...and stick to the plan.

I'll miss the view from my apartment in Spain

And then (because I am a fashionista/performer/ex-costumer) I will search for the right dress and accessories to match the dance. Fashion as a way of life...and my business. Work research - REALLY !!!! (sigh...and yes...I do realize this is also a thinly disguised female justification to shop!)

Back at the ranch

2006-03-18T22:04:00.000-08:00

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

2006-03-17T13:55:00.000-08:00

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

2006-03-16T20:26:00.000-08:00

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

2006-03-16T13:40:00.000-08:00

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

2006-03-15T10:15:00.000-08:00

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!

2006-03-09T00:26:00.000-08:00

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

2006-03-06T17:36:00.000-08:00

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!

2006-03-05T23:34:00.000-08:00

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

2006-03-05T08:38:00.000-08:00

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

2006-03-05T03:06:00.000-08:00

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

2006-03-05T01:23:00.000-08:00

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...)

2006-03-03T23:48:00.000-08:00

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...)

Learning the alegrias, and breaking my nose in the process

2006-03-03T16:46:00.000-08:00

I am here to study and learn an Alegrias - the flamenco dance about happiness.

Learning... It can be done in many ways. We are all different. We all learn differently. We all process info differently. We are all unique and GRAND (as they say where I come from).

For those of you who don't already know... I have many different interests (or obsessions depending on how you look at it.) Not only hats have captured my attention and attracted my focus. I have been labeled many things (and am guilty of labeling myself) among them dyslexic, ADD, ADHD, learning disabled, nervous, high strung, emotional... you name it. (I've been called lots of positive things too...I'm just focused on challenges right now - you'll see why if you are interested in this stuff ....and keep reading.
Also for those interested in the learning challenges of dyslexia, add, adhd, autism, and REAL help ... Goggle - Ronald Davis / dyslexia. His book "The Gift Of Dyslexia" written many years ago, and mainly to help teach kids to read in the school system, has changed many lives.

I am fascinated with the human brain, and determined to learn as much as I can about how people interpret their world, and translate that into a life worth living.

I also like to communicate and connect with people... and connect people to other people. That's one of my gifts. Maybe that's why I am a retailer. Can you think of a better way to have an endless (if you are in the right location of course) source of people to communicate with?

Hats are only one way that I communicate
...and I happen to make a living, have fun, feed and support my family and employees (the feed and support part only because of a business partnership with my patient, hardworking and (believe it or not) like-minded in certain ways husband of almost 30 years).

This trip to Spain, and the attempt to live a truly life-long dream has once again brought me face to face with both my gifts, my learning challenges and my limitations. A dramatic and intense reminder that most things in life that are of real and lasting value, are usually a lot of work...and fairly intentional.

A few nights ago, I walked straight into a plate glass window at the entrance to the Theatre. In public. In full view of a crowd of people that if ever I may have wanted to make a cool impression on , they would be it.

My nose is broken... it bled all night. I now sport two black eyes.. ..and wake up every morning with swollen eye sockets.
I didn't see the window because I often don't. Nor mirrors. Nor anything else very much like anybody else does.

The theatre where my mishap occured...

The swelling has gone quite a bit ...and the black is almost all gone

Juan Jose, (who took this picture )is a waiter at the central Tap as place near the Teatro. He now waves , laughs , and yells out "Ola Guapisima!" when I walk by

Now.. think about it. Do any of us see anything the same way? Are any of actually seeing the same thing? - I believe not.

I got lots of caring help from people - they were all great. For those of you who know her, Susan from Victoria was beside me. Heck - to have a gorgeous flamenco dancer as the doctor on hand. HOW PERFECT IS THAT? I couldn't have dreamed up anything better. Also a lady from Germany came out of the crowd with some sort of special nose/packing stuff that stops bleeding. How fortunate... my angel always by my side.

OK those of you who are still with me...I'm sure you've all had some experience (or several) that compares. Which brings me to my main thought about this.

No matter how different we all feel...how alone in our struggles... how stupid, limited, discouraged and overwhelmed... we all share the same essential needs on the inside. However we get there. WHATEVER we have to do... and however hard we have to work to make it happen.

I would also like to share that the next day was GREAT. I had a wonderful class (albeit challenging as usual) It hurt a lot when I did any footwork...and turning was a challenge, because I also had mild whiplash and a headache...
It still hurts when I move my head too fast.

But I surely have a new perspective on things.

Before the incident , I was getting frustrated in class with my problem with learning in front of mirrors. I was focussing too much on the difficulties, and that was taking away from what I actually CAN do. I was worrying too much about what people
thought. People don't think anything. They could care less - because they are just trying to learn themselves! - we are all soooo human and self absorbed)
I was worrying about whether I would remember the choreography , because I want to perform it back in Vancouver... and I want to practice it well...I want to remember her movements (she's so awesome!)

It's almost like I walked straight into the glass window to break through the frustration physically... you know? - out of sheer anger, frustration......and passion. More like an out of control Seguirilla than an Alegria.
I seemed to have walked through a door (or window -so to speak...)

I decided right then and there ... to go to the group classes to just BE there and work. Mirrors and all. Just see what happens if I stop trying to fight it.
Kasandra , Oscar and I have been working on this with me at home for awhile, so I have an army of brains - not just one.
They have been AMAZING in their work with me.
Patient , clear, and have taught me enough that I could come and get so much out of this experience.

I believe the unconscious is a powerful thing. And passion is even a more powerful thing. To be consciously intentional is to put your power and passion n the most productive and positive place.
I decided to ask Maria Jose for privates ...and change my ticket - stay longer until I get this damn alegria choreography!

The next day...
I had to get the courage up to go out at first.
I took myself out to a cafe , dressed quite elegantly, (remember my black suit purchase? - WHAT did I tell you - who KNEW how important it would be to a girl's self esteem?) I ordered really good food that I had FINALLY learned to order...got quite a lot of good humored and gentle attention, once I signed that it was not a punch with a fist that made me look like this ..but walking into a glass door (everybody can relate to that). People are so uncomfortable at first, in case it's something you can't share - I mean really - a woman with black eyes...euwww--yuck!)
I find women on the street are especially upset when they see me...(we could do a whole story on violence towards women ....nobody anywhere in the world likes to talk about that)

Anyway ... now when I go back to the Theatre - I have lot's of people who walk up and talk to me (in Spanish, English, Dutch , German, Hungarian, Japanese...) ask me how my nose is...sincere human kindness has no language barrier.
I am so comfortable there.....
i don't even worry about being late anymore , because the staff all know me..and the night it happened I watched the whole show from inside the doors of the theatre with the staff bringing me fresh towels and ice. I like to watch from the back better now sometimes!

Ok.. THAT"S IT ......maybe I'm here to learn a lot more than just an Alegria choreography.

Alegria.......it means happiness in Spanish. Happiness ...it may not look or feel the way you expected. If you open your eyes...and see in your own way... the Alegria is right there in front of your face. If you ignore what is actually there - REALITY- you may have to break your nose finding it!

I'm sorry folks - the picture of this one had to wait until the swelling went down, and the black faded. My ego seems to be clinging on for dear life - no matter how hard I try and ditch her - she's a stubborn lass, and sometimes quite useful!

Since this experience several days ago....I have become brave and dropped my shyness...I had to. I look pretty beat-up...I don't worry about . I start the morning with a slice of potato on my eyes to bring the swelling down (a trick told to me by a woman who stopped me in the street..and actually gave me a potato from her bag , so I would know what she was talking about... splash some water on my face ...(forget make-up..it just makes me look like a whore (as we say where I come from)
I now meet people all over town. Some speak English....most don't.

My private classes with Maria Jose have been FANTASTIC! She takes me to studios that have only mirror on one wall, and we turn away.
Then she teaches me by singing, using sounds with her tongue (you know - all the sounds and daoo daoo..ta tas that Oscar uses..)
She counts in a way that doesn't make any sense at all counting/wise - which is PERFECT for me -just sounds like singing....

OK , THIS IS LEARNING /PERCEPTUAL STUFF ..for anybody interested in learning challenges...

...she uses her body to teach me when I'm mixed up about body position . She actually places her arms and legs against mine to make me "feel" what I don't SEE.
You see...what is very very cool...is that she pointed out something that I already knew...but it is so good to see a teacher see it sooooo clearly them selves. She showed me with sign language ...that I don't HEAR when I am looking with my eyes...and I don't SEE when I am listening to sounds. They often happen separately.
When learning.....this can be difficult to take information in accurately . It means everything takes longer to process and then integrate....It all has to be taken in separately...and then integrated inside me ...and then repeated to have me "KNOW " it.
Then ...and only then ..can I use flamenco movements and sound to express everything inside through the music and cante.
Then I could REALY dance ....from a deep place...listening from a deeper level as Oscar says.

You see THAT's what happened with the glass door . I was having a really cool conversation with Susan...and basically ..I was REALLY listening, so my eyes were shut off -BANG!
Cool -eh?
Sometimes the most important lessons in life take the longest to GET. ....... if you are an existentialist, you might also say that life is futile ... about learning the same lessons over and over and over again....hmmnnnnn....that's very Seguirilla ...

I have learned so much. I am having soooo much fun........ and I feel like am living a Flamenco life. OLE!

The Sunday Flea Market

2006-02-28T13:51:00.000-08:00

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!

2006-02-28T10:10:00.000-08:00

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

2006-02-27T23:17:00.000-08:00

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

2006-02-25T18:14:00.000-08:00

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

2006-02-24T23:53:00.000-08:00

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

2006-02-24T11:56:00.000-08:00

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

2006-02-22T21:54:00.000-08:00

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

2006-02-20T09:38:00.000-08:00

Arrival in Jerez!

2006-02-20T09:19:00.000-08:00

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

2006-02-19T10:55:00.000-08:00

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!"

2006-02-18T17:40:00.000-08:00

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

2006-02-13T14:52:00.000-08:00

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?