Juan del Gastor is the nephew of one of the greatest flamenco guitarists ever, Diego del Gastor, who died in 1971. Juan has a pony tail and lives in Sevilla. His wife's name is Lucy, who is American, but has lived with the gitanos for many years.
Today I went to see Juan and Lucy for some help with bulerias, which Juan suggested for me to do, back in July.

Juan is well respected by anyone truly serious on the inside of the flamenco world. Unfortunately, most foreigners probably don't know about him because of our lack of resources and connections. Not many people have the interest to delve into flamenco enough to find out about the ones that don't make big splashy shows and lots of money. If Concha and Rafael respect someone, that says something. Andres Marin, a well known dancer and choreographer who does very unusual modern flamenco (which he doesn't think is modern) goes to hang out with Juan.

Today Juan, with Lucy's help, tried desperately and finally succeeded to undo the other bulerias stuff I've learned before (except for Concha's). Juan is a generous person and cares very deeply about his heritage of genuine flamenco. He can be a bit tough, and is less laid back than Concha, but is truly kind. He told me to simplify what I've been doing. I've been wanting to do that for maybe two years, with bulerias. He wasn't quite as bad as the others, because he let me keep some of my current material but he made me simplify it. Then he taught me a different paso, and different marking, which he told me are the really old gitano stuff from times past, that no one will teach any more.

Juan and Lucy are warm, generous, and genuine people that give me a family-ish sense of security, kind of like Concha and Rafael.

Unfortunately I was dumb enough to think that I wouldn't sweat much... one of the most illogical thoughts I've had for a long time, and spent while letting the Sevillan heat dry out my hair and sundress.

I stayed till evening. It was an incredibly romantic one. I found myself sitting, rather tipsy, on the steps of the Archivas de Indias, with a sprawl of horses, carriages and drivers to the side, and the late day sun on the cathedral with a big palm tree right in front. I had had four glasses of wine in the afternoon, and then went to see an apartment. The couple were Romanian tailors, very nice people.

I bought myself an ice cream and caught the train back.