Dancing, friends and animal noises

Que día...
I feel like I am alive again. I went to practice at the studio for the first time in 3 weeks. I practiced a lot of castanets and danced in running shoes.
After that I went to replenish my supply of decent tea at an excellent tea store, which also sells a few select artisan and ecological wines and a couple of other things. I decided to have a glass of wine - even the glass itself was a cut above the rest. I picked up a thick book on experimental soundscapes (or something), which discussed the history of progressive music in Spain through the 20th century and had some fascinating articles, such as how the digital age has changed views of social organisation (or something). For example, the internet has proven on a grand scale spontaneous organisation without a leader, which will influence the thinking of at least those young enough to have their understanding of the world formed since the internet. They discussed some fascinating phenomenon - how geese fly in formation without following a leader, and when people in an auditorium want to clap in a certain rhythm, it emerges unified after a short time of disorganisation, without a leader.

I had an unexpected call from Mika, who was in Sevilla. I got on a bici and went to meet her in Plaza Jesus de la Passion, where we had tea and she showed me her last big purchase before leaving for home - a flamenco dress made to measure. We both found it hard to believe she is leaving. I will miss her a lot. She has something that not a lot of people have...calmness, serenity, peace, it seems... along with an ability to do what she wants to do. A beautiful and confident person, but without pretensions. Like her, there are a few of my Jerez friends with whom the tension that has become normalized in my life stands out in stark relief. With whom if I allow it, there can exist comfortable silence in the conversation. It's as if there is no problem with just existing. I don't know if it's them or Jerez - probably both.
While I don't want her to leave, I am happy she is going home to dance there too. This is one person I am sure will bring something back with her of more value than what a few months intensive study or a bunch of cursillos with famous teachers will do, and am happy to think of my friend performing in tablaos in Japan.

My next experience of the night gave me reminiscences of China. Phoning to order essential things ... and feeling really stupid. In China it was the bottle of water. I'd call the number and say, "it's the foreign teacher", and that's all they needed to know. There was only one other female foreign teacher in Deyang and probably someone else delivered her water. This time it was the bombon of gaz (butano) which heats the stove and shower. I gave our address and then with great care, read out their phone number to them, as if it were ours. Alicia was in stitches listening to me, and took little time to point it out. When I finally got around to calling them to fix the problem, I nearly dialed our number, which she'd written on the fridge for me, and had a wavering voice trying not to laugh while reading it.

I then took advantage of my roommates' help with some sentences I'd constructed in various tenses and verbs, and the conversation somehow degenerated into, "what does a rooster say in English?" "Ki-kiri-ki!" is the Spanish version, and Alicia also demonstrated the French, which she learned while studying there and thinks is really funny. But WAY more funny, was the English. I totally cracked them up with "cock-a-doodle-doo". It brought the Flinstones to Marta's mind.
Then there was "be-e-eh" and "ba-a-ah", "guao-guao" (the g is almost not pronounced) and "woof" (our versions of which were very funny). "Oink" is practically the same: "oinc", and meow is the same. Quack is the same (probably without the k), and neither they nor I know what noise a platypus or an ornitorrinco makes, or if it is the same animal. They did have me stumped about baby chickens: theirs go, "piu...piu" (in a high voice, of course) and I don't know what ours do.
A mermaid is a sirenita (probably "little mermaid"), just in case you had to know.
Spanish does not have an "h" sound like ours. Their h is silent/non-aspirated, but their j and g both have a gutteral h sound. They got to practicing "hello" and "house", which they did with hilarity, making an exaggerated sighing sound and exhaling a lot. If they don't do that, they end up with a very scary gutteral "hello".