Jerez

The day I left for Jerez it was hot enough to sweat in jeans, in the sun, in Sevilla.
I took the train at 5, because all the other ones were full.
I am told I would never have been able to wander into town and decide an hour before the show that I think I might perhaps want to see La Farruca, and then score a ticket for only E18, if I were in Sevilla, where it would be sold out months ahead.
I was a bit dislocated watching them. The Farruco family is one of the most famous in all of flamenco, as the patriarch was one of the most legendary dancers in all of flamenco history. Farruquito, the hottest of the family at this point in time, would probably not dance in a show that was not headlined with his own name. I believe this was his mother. Farruquito is a long haired epitome of gitano looking hotshot. El Carpeta has the attitude of the grade 8 Italian boys at my highschool that were the reason my sister couldn't stand it there. Of course this helps make him a good dancer, along with the fact that he wears shiny red suits.
I met Mika after the show, and ran into Kiko, who I was supposed to meet, but still managed to assume, with my Canadianness, that he might call me earlier, around when I said I would arrive. So I had to give him the brush off, as it wasn't going to work to catch up with Mika at the same time as him.
There isn't anyone much staying in Alicia's house right now, besides Mika. She has an enormous bed, which she shared with me. Even if I wanted to afford a hotel in Jerez and had no offers of friends' couches, there would have been no possible way of getting one, as the Festival de Jerez is on, when flamenco students from everywhere flood the city. I had a great chat with Alicia, the incredibly talented sculptor, in the morning. Her house has nature around it: a hillside of long grasses and flowering weeds. I've been missing grass and trees, not to mention actual hills and mountains outside of a city.
The second out of three times I ran into Kiko in the streets, he was flirting with three girls from Madrid, who seemed to feel the same way about Jerez as many people I know, and lamented repeatedly, their imminent departure. I really don't get social rules here yet. I eventually asked Manu if I could invite Kiko, cause I was having coffee with him, and I know they are good friends anyways. That was no problem with Manu, but Kiko seemed to think it meant something. I couldn't understand whether he was just playing it up. I've been told not to hang out with a man, alone, in Jerez, unless I want to be known as a puta. So it must have been pretty bad that I sat side-saddle on his bike and let him double me. I have to say it is pretty fun wandering down the streets of Jerez that way.
The very best thing was having a barbacoa at Manu and Pati's. Everyone there was French, and all but one could speak Spanish, so they would revert to French often, and I would answer back in Spanish. It felt as if we were all speaking the same language. My understanding of French is decent but I can't speak it.
Pati and Mika are gems. I feel like some kind of stressed and crazy wreck that has just been sat down in the middle of a peaceful field, around them. In fact, most people of my acquaintance in Jerez are like this.
Kiko took me back to Sevilla, and stopped off to show me his favorite bar in some random town, as well as the edge of the Don~ana nature reserve, just after dark. I really wish I understood things here. If a guy seems nice and I don't dislike him, and he offers to double me on his bike and that seems like a fun and convenient thing to do, I don't see any reason not to. I might have to develop a more pre-emptive stance though.