Someone has drawn an anatomically correct heart dripping blood beside the extended hand of Luis, on the photocopied poster advertising his class.
I went to Calle Castellar, where I practiced last year, to look for either his class or that of Carmen Ledesma. I've known about both these dancers for some time now. They are the real thing. Much more down to earth than the teachers in academies. Non-academic. Traditional. I've also heard the rumours about Luis with regard to ladies.
I do not know for sure but I am guessing he is one of the many offspring of the large Peña family, which has many very famous members, some from Lebrija, and relatives in some form or other, of Concha. Whatever the case, flamenco is thick in his gitano blood.
Several friends have been taking his class in the past couple of months, and all have good things to say about his dancing. All of us are looking for the simple, traditional gitano style, with attitude, with guts, with pellizco (hard to translate - spark, perhaps, sudden spontaneous eruption of gusto/guts/enjoyment... the thing that makes spontaneous "ole"s come out of people's mouths. Pellizcos can be quite subtle movements but are sudden.)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Iri_9ihH4SM&feature=related
Monday, April 30, 2012
Twinings English Breakfast tea is really a step down from what I've been drinking. But it's either that or go out for coffee in the mornings. I managed to find a tin of it loose in Corte Ingles. That should tide me over till I can manage to swing by the only decent tea shop I know of in the city, now quite far away from me and only open after 4 pm. Twinings English Breakfast, however dull it may be is far superior to any other type of "tea" the Spanish swill across a bar here. (The only decent tea you get is in an Arabic teahouse, but ALWAYS mixed with the wildest manner of herbs, flowers, spices, and a ton of sugar - which is really another animal altogether, from a decent, standard, good cup of tea).
Paco is going to be going to Saudi Arabia to work, in all likelihood. I just upped the price of his English classes by 40% and he was okay with it. Talk about freaked out of my mind to ask for that...! The fear had nothing to do with losing a student I need and everything to do with shame for going back on my word (something VERY Anglosaxon) and for asking for what I need for myself (and for revealing that I was rookie enough not to have figured that out yet). There was just no possible way I could continue biking half an hour across the city, and preparing classes for about an hour each time, for E10 an hour. Ridiculous. Not his fault. Mine, for advertising my prices as E12 an hour and him asking if he could have a discount for paying me for a month at a time up front, and me saying I could discount it 2E. Various people told me I should take the metro out to Nervion - ha ha. Not for 2.35 each way making 10E an hour!
So I said 15 per hour and 1 Euro discount for paying ahead. That's still not as it should be (should be E20 an hour, but I feel that may not fly in an economic crisis, unless I specifically target wealthy neighborhoods or develop a new method of teaching, which is also possible).
Anyways, I am relieved and extremely happy, and now trying to figure out what dance classes to take this month.
Paco is going to be going to Saudi Arabia to work, in all likelihood. I just upped the price of his English classes by 40% and he was okay with it. Talk about freaked out of my mind to ask for that...! The fear had nothing to do with losing a student I need and everything to do with shame for going back on my word (something VERY Anglosaxon) and for asking for what I need for myself (and for revealing that I was rookie enough not to have figured that out yet). There was just no possible way I could continue biking half an hour across the city, and preparing classes for about an hour each time, for E10 an hour. Ridiculous. Not his fault. Mine, for advertising my prices as E12 an hour and him asking if he could have a discount for paying me for a month at a time up front, and me saying I could discount it 2E. Various people told me I should take the metro out to Nervion - ha ha. Not for 2.35 each way making 10E an hour!
So I said 15 per hour and 1 Euro discount for paying ahead. That's still not as it should be (should be E20 an hour, but I feel that may not fly in an economic crisis, unless I specifically target wealthy neighborhoods or develop a new method of teaching, which is also possible).
Anyways, I am relieved and extremely happy, and now trying to figure out what dance classes to take this month.
Going out for breakfast is one of my favorite things to do. Going out for tapas is nice too, but I am much more content to cook my own lunch and dinner, and far more often have the urge to eat breakfast out. It gives me a chance to get outside in the morning, the atmosphere is much more conducive to a single person just hanging out in a bar for a while and soaking up the ambiente.
I did it today because I did not manage to replenish my stocks of tea, almond milk, or non-jail eggs. I need a stimulant of some sort, so if I don't have tea, it has to be coffee. My two possible choices of breakfast at home are oats and almond milk or pancakes with whole flour. In this house, the pancakes do not sale without eggs. It is something about the frying pan or fire. I made an attempt to locate some almond milk, and saw no jail-free eggs (it is called a "jaula" - a cage. I knew what that word was as soon as I saw it on an egg box in summer 2010). I had walked past bar Bodega Vargas on my way and had a desire to just go sit in the little quaint place with Mr. Vargas, even though I shouldn't be having white bread... so I went back there and did it. This tiny place is in a side street: Rodrigo de Triana, the same street where Manuel Betanzos is, just around the corner from my house. There is only ever one man behind the bar, probably my dad's age. It is renowned for good tapas, and Mr. Vargas, like a lot of bartenders here, has a quick, dry way of serving you, but with a certain kind of warmth that generally doesn't exist in our culture. He knows most of his clients by name and talks to them. There are all sorts of cultural type photos on the walls and paraphernalia involving El Rocio, Semana Santa and futbol.
This kind of place has nothing to do with presentation, decor, design by some kind of professional working for a large impersonal but suave restaurant interior design company. It has nothing to do with false, "How are you today, oh that's nice, what can I get for you? Is everything alright for you?" It's only real: "Hola! Cafe? tostada con jamon, vale. y tomate? (a mischevious, funny sort of smile), Adios, guapa!" He is very businesslike and professional in his own way (a way that has integrity, not a put on way in which the manager taught him to speak), and has the place organised and totally ship-shape. It is not devoid of life and personality. In a place like this, you can slow down for a bit - even if it is just a few minutes. It is outside the normal world I am used to: the world of soul-less chain places, the ugly corporatization of businesses of all kinds that we all take for granted. What is wrong with all that and how it affects you on a deeper level is subtle, until you experience this. This alone makes me never want to return to Canada.
Most bars do not post lists of possible breakfast choices, though a few do. That is because everyone knows what the choices are. The choice is a tostada (toasted bun-like bread of varying sorts), and the possible things to put on it are also known by everyone: olive oil alone, olive oil and tomato, olive oil, tomato and jamon. Those are the most common, that everywhere has. Then many places also have pate, manteca (the lard, sometimes with bits of browned meaty stuff, or coloured by peppers), and one more: butter and jam.
Trying to find a place that serves a Canadian style breakfast that you are used to here, is just silly. You will pay very big bucks at a tacky tourist place to get anything resembling eggs and potatoes, or a "French" style tortilla (omlette).
Anyways, I have had my coffee with jamon, tomate y aceite and have to plan a lesson now.
I did it today because I did not manage to replenish my stocks of tea, almond milk, or non-jail eggs. I need a stimulant of some sort, so if I don't have tea, it has to be coffee. My two possible choices of breakfast at home are oats and almond milk or pancakes with whole flour. In this house, the pancakes do not sale without eggs. It is something about the frying pan or fire. I made an attempt to locate some almond milk, and saw no jail-free eggs (it is called a "jaula" - a cage. I knew what that word was as soon as I saw it on an egg box in summer 2010). I had walked past bar Bodega Vargas on my way and had a desire to just go sit in the little quaint place with Mr. Vargas, even though I shouldn't be having white bread... so I went back there and did it. This tiny place is in a side street: Rodrigo de Triana, the same street where Manuel Betanzos is, just around the corner from my house. There is only ever one man behind the bar, probably my dad's age. It is renowned for good tapas, and Mr. Vargas, like a lot of bartenders here, has a quick, dry way of serving you, but with a certain kind of warmth that generally doesn't exist in our culture. He knows most of his clients by name and talks to them. There are all sorts of cultural type photos on the walls and paraphernalia involving El Rocio, Semana Santa and futbol.
This kind of place has nothing to do with presentation, decor, design by some kind of professional working for a large impersonal but suave restaurant interior design company. It has nothing to do with false, "How are you today, oh that's nice, what can I get for you? Is everything alright for you?" It's only real: "Hola! Cafe? tostada con jamon, vale. y tomate? (a mischevious, funny sort of smile), Adios, guapa!" He is very businesslike and professional in his own way (a way that has integrity, not a put on way in which the manager taught him to speak), and has the place organised and totally ship-shape. It is not devoid of life and personality. In a place like this, you can slow down for a bit - even if it is just a few minutes. It is outside the normal world I am used to: the world of soul-less chain places, the ugly corporatization of businesses of all kinds that we all take for granted. What is wrong with all that and how it affects you on a deeper level is subtle, until you experience this. This alone makes me never want to return to Canada.
Most bars do not post lists of possible breakfast choices, though a few do. That is because everyone knows what the choices are. The choice is a tostada (toasted bun-like bread of varying sorts), and the possible things to put on it are also known by everyone: olive oil alone, olive oil and tomato, olive oil, tomato and jamon. Those are the most common, that everywhere has. Then many places also have pate, manteca (the lard, sometimes with bits of browned meaty stuff, or coloured by peppers), and one more: butter and jam.
Trying to find a place that serves a Canadian style breakfast that you are used to here, is just silly. You will pay very big bucks at a tacky tourist place to get anything resembling eggs and potatoes, or a "French" style tortilla (omlette).
Anyways, I have had my coffee with jamon, tomate y aceite and have to plan a lesson now.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
More chance to relax. Everyone is out of the house today. Saturday and the Feria is still on. I slept till noon because I was out with Sherie and her friend Samuel (a Sevillano) till 4 am last night at the Feria. They stayed till who knows what hour.
I tried to tell Samuel that it was fascinating watching the locals dance Sevillanas. He did not really understand me. He said, in his almost perfect English, "I've seen it all for years. I see things you don't see." I'm sure he does, but I see things he doesn't see too. There can be no doubt, it is nothing that needs researching, nor is it some kind of fanciful stereotyping I as a foreigner am doing. They whirl around but stop dramatically with one arm high in the air. The people who are good have a subtle way of bringing space and time into it. Even though the music may be fast at times, they don't let it rush their movements of make them seem frenzied. They may be playing and joking somewhat with their dramatic poses but they are not parodying, as most of us would do if we were to dance this way. It is part of them and the way they are. One woman probably about my age, who is sitting with our group dances in such a coquettish, teasing way... though in our culture this could make her seem cheap or loose. Not the way she does it. We talk to her and I like her very much. (I know how to dance the same dance they are all doing, and have performed it many times in Vancouver. But I do not have the same "something" in me that they do, that comes out when they dance it. It is part of their attitude to life and cannot be imitated without obtaining that attitude. It can only come from inside.)
Marta and her boyfriend Dani have been around more than usual this weekend, with Marta's mother and her kids gone. Marta is 30, a former hairdresser who is out of work now (well, working in the hospitality industry for lack of jobs in hairstyling). She is a short, cute, fiery, girl, with the back of her head shaved; she is constantly changing her hairdo. She has a couple of tattoos. Her best friend has her whole head shaved. I don't know if all this means she is really very rebel-ish. Possibly a little bit. I suppose her mannerisms and way of talking remind me of the Italian girls I went to high school with. Very confident - not worried about anything, but friendly and nice. Pepa herself, though in part a proper lady who keeps her house spotless and gets stressed out about doing everything, is no stick in the mud when it comes to tradition. She told me one day, don't you worry - do what you want and enjoy life. Go out with whatever men you want - have them take you out for a nice time, and do what you please - just put your heart in your pocket if he is not available. All men do what they please - they all have fun. It's time women did the same. I just wish I had realised that younger.
I try to explain to Samuel that affairs seem more acceptable here in Spain. He doesn't really like that and says they are never acceptable, but perhaps just not seen as badly as in Canada. I tell him that in Canada I have only once, 14 years ago, been sought out by a married man, and that since being in Spain, there have been 3 so far. My friend says that she would never marry in Seville; that if she were a man here, she couldn't be faithful. All the women are just too gorgeous. The three of us agree that the Feria dresses are all about the "culo" - ass/rear end. They are figure hugging and have a way of making anyone's bum look gorgeous. Aside from that, they do themselves up like dolls, with huge dangling earring, flowers on the top and center of their heads in a totally un-abashed way and a thousand ruffles all over.
I tried to tell Samuel that it was fascinating watching the locals dance Sevillanas. He did not really understand me. He said, in his almost perfect English, "I've seen it all for years. I see things you don't see." I'm sure he does, but I see things he doesn't see too. There can be no doubt, it is nothing that needs researching, nor is it some kind of fanciful stereotyping I as a foreigner am doing. They whirl around but stop dramatically with one arm high in the air. The people who are good have a subtle way of bringing space and time into it. Even though the music may be fast at times, they don't let it rush their movements of make them seem frenzied. They may be playing and joking somewhat with their dramatic poses but they are not parodying, as most of us would do if we were to dance this way. It is part of them and the way they are. One woman probably about my age, who is sitting with our group dances in such a coquettish, teasing way... though in our culture this could make her seem cheap or loose. Not the way she does it. We talk to her and I like her very much. (I know how to dance the same dance they are all doing, and have performed it many times in Vancouver. But I do not have the same "something" in me that they do, that comes out when they dance it. It is part of their attitude to life and cannot be imitated without obtaining that attitude. It can only come from inside.)
Marta and her boyfriend Dani have been around more than usual this weekend, with Marta's mother and her kids gone. Marta is 30, a former hairdresser who is out of work now (well, working in the hospitality industry for lack of jobs in hairstyling). She is a short, cute, fiery, girl, with the back of her head shaved; she is constantly changing her hairdo. She has a couple of tattoos. Her best friend has her whole head shaved. I don't know if all this means she is really very rebel-ish. Possibly a little bit. I suppose her mannerisms and way of talking remind me of the Italian girls I went to high school with. Very confident - not worried about anything, but friendly and nice. Pepa herself, though in part a proper lady who keeps her house spotless and gets stressed out about doing everything, is no stick in the mud when it comes to tradition. She told me one day, don't you worry - do what you want and enjoy life. Go out with whatever men you want - have them take you out for a nice time, and do what you please - just put your heart in your pocket if he is not available. All men do what they please - they all have fun. It's time women did the same. I just wish I had realised that younger.
I try to explain to Samuel that affairs seem more acceptable here in Spain. He doesn't really like that and says they are never acceptable, but perhaps just not seen as badly as in Canada. I tell him that in Canada I have only once, 14 years ago, been sought out by a married man, and that since being in Spain, there have been 3 so far. My friend says that she would never marry in Seville; that if she were a man here, she couldn't be faithful. All the women are just too gorgeous. The three of us agree that the Feria dresses are all about the "culo" - ass/rear end. They are figure hugging and have a way of making anyone's bum look gorgeous. Aside from that, they do themselves up like dolls, with huge dangling earring, flowers on the top and center of their heads in a totally un-abashed way and a thousand ruffles all over.
Friday, April 27, 2012
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=endscreen&NR=1&v=_YYqcY-pR8w
Why would you want to be anywhere else, doing anything else other than this? Well, that's me, I guess. Why I'm here. Eating is okay I guess. Sleeping is good too.
This is Luis el Zambo, who I saw in March. This is an earlier recording.
Why would you want to be anywhere else, doing anything else other than this? Well, that's me, I guess. Why I'm here. Eating is okay I guess. Sleeping is good too.
This is Luis el Zambo, who I saw in March. This is an earlier recording.
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Can't quite believe this exists. It is part of their normal yearly routine. Nothing is fake (well, some plastic bead jewelry perhaps). All these carriages are unbelievable. This must be the most fascinating city in the western world.
There are others like T. Sachiko is one of them - in a different way. Just before she left for Japan (she comes back at the end of this month) we talked. She managed to challenge me beyond where my thoughts or desires are willing to go. It was like an injection of life, hope... to take a sidelong glance at what might be there inside me that I have dared not look at.
I have been unable to want anything with a desire too strong, since I lied to myself and forced myself beyond what I was capable of with my physics degree and my piano, years ago; essentially I have been emotionally and psychologically crippled with regards to what I do in life. I hate hearing that anyone thinks what I've already done is great. I have not known that it is possible to desire and work towards something with passion, unless there is a damaging forcefulness behind it. So I have avoided and not looked for what it is that I really want. Besides, I am cursed with the epitome of Anglo-saxon-ness, in pretending to be humble - trying to be too cool. "Oh, ha ha - everybody wants to be a rock star - how stupid".
We talked about being hungry for what you really want. Being so hungry that it doesn't matter what other people think, or if you look stupid. We talked about another Japanese friend of hers that has worked unbelievably hard because she wanted so badly to dance. How this girl never makes anyone else feel inferior, how she has her own style, and how the Spanish respect her. How she doesn't seem to even practice crazy fast footwork in the studio.
I have been unable to want anything with a desire too strong, since I lied to myself and forced myself beyond what I was capable of with my physics degree and my piano, years ago; essentially I have been emotionally and psychologically crippled with regards to what I do in life. I hate hearing that anyone thinks what I've already done is great. I have not known that it is possible to desire and work towards something with passion, unless there is a damaging forcefulness behind it. So I have avoided and not looked for what it is that I really want. Besides, I am cursed with the epitome of Anglo-saxon-ness, in pretending to be humble - trying to be too cool. "Oh, ha ha - everybody wants to be a rock star - how stupid".
We talked about being hungry for what you really want. Being so hungry that it doesn't matter what other people think, or if you look stupid. We talked about another Japanese friend of hers that has worked unbelievably hard because she wanted so badly to dance. How this girl never makes anyone else feel inferior, how she has her own style, and how the Spanish respect her. How she doesn't seem to even practice crazy fast footwork in the studio.
It is not unusual in my world here in Seville to come across great people - people who belong with the great ones that I admired when I first set out to try to find a career path. People driven by passion, that have surmounted a lot of odds, who don't talk excessively about their difficulties, but live and I would bet, won't regret it when they have to look back on their lives.
I met T first over a year ago; she was renting the studio before me (I feel that I should not use her proper name here as I have not asked her if I can tell her story on the internet and she is a private person). I liked her right away because she was really polite and respectful and seemed like a nice person. I didn't get to know her till a couple of months ago. She is leaving for Japan again on Tuesday. She will be back, though she doesn't have any idea when at this point.
There is nothing about her that is show-offy. She is short, and speaks so softly that sometimes it is hard to hear her. She has spent 6 years overall, here, back and forth.
She describes her initial decision to come here years ago as an explosion - working so hard that she didn't do anything else, and having no time for dancing - she quit and came to Spain. She doesn't dance in tablaos, nor to my knowledge, teach. She hasn't tried to rush into the limelight like so many others. It isn't easy living with very little here, when she could have been making a lot of money like she used to. When she first came, she danced 7 hours a day, and described what she did to her foot to keep herself going in spite of pain, and what she's done to help counteract sciatica.
Watching her face as she describes things, I feel like crying - not for sadness or pity, but in awe of the incredible determination of someone driven from the inside by passion and willing to do whatever it takes, with a quiet acceptance of the difficulties that entails. She totally inspires me.
Several years ago she ended up staying past her visa date, and during that time a drunk driver hit her. It took a year to get back to normal, and years later it still causes her pain. During that time she lived in fear that the police would find out and tell her to go home. As everyone who lives here long term or on and off, she still struggles under the weight of paperwork and bureaucracy.
She has passed pain and difficulty with knowing who she could trust during difficult times. But she isn't a complainer; she is always energetic and happy. She struggles with her parents' desire for her to be more stable and with the death of grandparents while away.
Anyways, thank you T; I hope to have half the valor that you do.
I met T first over a year ago; she was renting the studio before me (I feel that I should not use her proper name here as I have not asked her if I can tell her story on the internet and she is a private person). I liked her right away because she was really polite and respectful and seemed like a nice person. I didn't get to know her till a couple of months ago. She is leaving for Japan again on Tuesday. She will be back, though she doesn't have any idea when at this point.
There is nothing about her that is show-offy. She is short, and speaks so softly that sometimes it is hard to hear her. She has spent 6 years overall, here, back and forth.
She describes her initial decision to come here years ago as an explosion - working so hard that she didn't do anything else, and having no time for dancing - she quit and came to Spain. She doesn't dance in tablaos, nor to my knowledge, teach. She hasn't tried to rush into the limelight like so many others. It isn't easy living with very little here, when she could have been making a lot of money like she used to. When she first came, she danced 7 hours a day, and described what she did to her foot to keep herself going in spite of pain, and what she's done to help counteract sciatica.
Watching her face as she describes things, I feel like crying - not for sadness or pity, but in awe of the incredible determination of someone driven from the inside by passion and willing to do whatever it takes, with a quiet acceptance of the difficulties that entails. She totally inspires me.
Several years ago she ended up staying past her visa date, and during that time a drunk driver hit her. It took a year to get back to normal, and years later it still causes her pain. During that time she lived in fear that the police would find out and tell her to go home. As everyone who lives here long term or on and off, she still struggles under the weight of paperwork and bureaucracy.
She has passed pain and difficulty with knowing who she could trust during difficult times. But she isn't a complainer; she is always energetic and happy. She struggles with her parents' desire for her to be more stable and with the death of grandparents while away.
Anyways, thank you T; I hope to have half the valor that you do.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Here is Rafael.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PMaCrMNP6ic&feature=endscreen
Some people with whom I've studied say depreciatingly that this is all too modern. Watching him dance, I don't see the traditional pain and suffering of the gitanos. But whatever he does feel comes out in his dancing and you can see it. He is like a kid, playing around, but he communicates that with the audience. I've seen so many other dancers who are all serious but still lack that "old" spirit, and they don't communicate it to you.
I don't get goosebumps watching this alegrias, but I do laugh, and anyways, that's what alegrias is about.
Here are Pili and Andres, husband and wife team, she was my teacher last year.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&feature=endscreen&v=UfcfEfZaBM4
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PMaCrMNP6ic&feature=endscreen
Some people with whom I've studied say depreciatingly that this is all too modern. Watching him dance, I don't see the traditional pain and suffering of the gitanos. But whatever he does feel comes out in his dancing and you can see it. He is like a kid, playing around, but he communicates that with the audience. I've seen so many other dancers who are all serious but still lack that "old" spirit, and they don't communicate it to you.
I don't get goosebumps watching this alegrias, but I do laugh, and anyways, that's what alegrias is about.
Here are Pili and Andres, husband and wife team, she was my teacher last year.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&feature=endscreen&v=UfcfEfZaBM4
Friday, April 20, 2012
My computer has just been restored to normal. It's embarassing to have mold inside your computer when it's a cute guy who fixes it for you.
Things are too crazy. I must figure out a way of making it all work better. People who know better know that I am charging way too little for my classes. I am running from one side of the city and back. I don't know how to do it, but I have to do things differently, because I am agobiando-ing.
The Spanish are very sensitive to agobiando-ing. If you are doing it, they notice right away. We don't use the nearest equivalent in English, because we think it's just a normal part of life that we have to cope with. It means to get overwhelmed. But it has more meaning than our word overwhelmed. It also means to get kind of freaked out or stressed.
Next week is the Feria. I don't really care. I would like to find some other dancers to go with though. Today after Paco's class, which ended at quarter to three, I knew that I could not push myself to go home and back again by 4:30 on the same side of the city. However, I had also been up since 6:30, taught a class at the Parque Empresarial, and gone to my dance class and back. I also had Marcelino's class later, also in the same area. So instead of destroying myself even further, I sat in a bar for an hour and tried to work on my research paper which must be done by Monday for the English teaching course. They have delayed my deadline 3 times now, so I feel I have to finish now.
There was nobody in this bar at 3 pm, which didn't make sense to me. I think the crowds just kind of stick together. Some days they end up in certain bars, other days in others. The guys were putting up decorations and had Sevillanas music on. After a glass of wine on an almost empty stomach (with a little tapa of carrillada - cheek of something, pork I suppose, although it seems like beef), I felt talkative and started asking them about things. A lone businessman at the bar told me I could get in to the private casetas if I went and asked politely. Not all of them, but I would certainly find some, and I didn't even have to be dressed up. It would be easier with a couple of others, but I could go alone too if I wanted. They said these letras (there are thousands of Sevillanas verses and they invent new ones every year) were well known.
I have made a rice and chicken leg stew and am finally drafting patterns again after at least a month and a half of not doing it.
Things are too crazy. I must figure out a way of making it all work better. People who know better know that I am charging way too little for my classes. I am running from one side of the city and back. I don't know how to do it, but I have to do things differently, because I am agobiando-ing.
The Spanish are very sensitive to agobiando-ing. If you are doing it, they notice right away. We don't use the nearest equivalent in English, because we think it's just a normal part of life that we have to cope with. It means to get overwhelmed. But it has more meaning than our word overwhelmed. It also means to get kind of freaked out or stressed.
Next week is the Feria. I don't really care. I would like to find some other dancers to go with though. Today after Paco's class, which ended at quarter to three, I knew that I could not push myself to go home and back again by 4:30 on the same side of the city. However, I had also been up since 6:30, taught a class at the Parque Empresarial, and gone to my dance class and back. I also had Marcelino's class later, also in the same area. So instead of destroying myself even further, I sat in a bar for an hour and tried to work on my research paper which must be done by Monday for the English teaching course. They have delayed my deadline 3 times now, so I feel I have to finish now.
There was nobody in this bar at 3 pm, which didn't make sense to me. I think the crowds just kind of stick together. Some days they end up in certain bars, other days in others. The guys were putting up decorations and had Sevillanas music on. After a glass of wine on an almost empty stomach (with a little tapa of carrillada - cheek of something, pork I suppose, although it seems like beef), I felt talkative and started asking them about things. A lone businessman at the bar told me I could get in to the private casetas if I went and asked politely. Not all of them, but I would certainly find some, and I didn't even have to be dressed up. It would be easier with a couple of others, but I could go alone too if I wanted. They said these letras (there are thousands of Sevillanas verses and they invent new ones every year) were well known.
I have made a rice and chicken leg stew and am finally drafting patterns again after at least a month and a half of not doing it.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
I have a few minutes as Pepa is letting me use her computer. Mine has broken down. I have too much work to do - though it is forcing me to organise and figure out how to teach classes on the spot with less resources. Then I have my certificate to finish by monday - a paper and a summary of the course and to correct something I did already.
Anyways... just a little break:
It has been crazy the last couple weeks. Last week I hardly had time to breathe. I do not have any plans to come home any time soon. That is one thing I have currently decided.
I went to Jerez on the weekend. I needed to get away. Geoffrey just got there before me and had chased some mice out through the hole in the wall in the shower, and then plugged the hole with a cork. We had some wine. The next day I didn´t feel too good, as I hadn´t eaten since 4 and then drank a fair bit, only snacking a little as both of us got there late. I slept a fair bit during the day, but managed to hang two cupboard doors and drill holes for the hinges in the others. I didn´t help him very much this time, but he was very grateful anyways.
Adela Campallo is a really lovely person and dancer. I enjoy her classes. Luckily I have some friends who I´ve just made, in the class who have helped me catch up with what I didn´t learn last month. Yu fu, from Taiwan and Miho from Japan. There are lots of other nice girls too. Today Rafael, her brother, substituted for her. I really enjoyed his class. He still reminds me of my cousin Trevor. He´s an excellent teacher, and can be very serious about the important aspects of dancing, particularly the simplest (but most difficult) things that most people tend to overlook: to connection with the music, the complete control of all your movements, taking things slowly and relaxedly. He seems to be always smiling or laughing: even while making us do an extremely repetitive exercise that exhausts us. He adds accents all over the place and just plays. No wonder he seems happy, smiling and laughing: who wouldn´t be, if your entire job involved playing with rhythm? What better possible thing in the world is there? He tells us he doesn´t think of himself as a dancer with particularly fast feet (you would laugh if you saw him dance). He says his special mark is adding accents in the right place. What he says is true - there are others who do ridiculous machine-like footwork that wows people, but doesn´t say a lot.
Anyways, I must go, probably use a computer at the library, or plan out the rest of my lessons for tomorrow on paper.
Anyways... just a little break:
It has been crazy the last couple weeks. Last week I hardly had time to breathe. I do not have any plans to come home any time soon. That is one thing I have currently decided.
I went to Jerez on the weekend. I needed to get away. Geoffrey just got there before me and had chased some mice out through the hole in the wall in the shower, and then plugged the hole with a cork. We had some wine. The next day I didn´t feel too good, as I hadn´t eaten since 4 and then drank a fair bit, only snacking a little as both of us got there late. I slept a fair bit during the day, but managed to hang two cupboard doors and drill holes for the hinges in the others. I didn´t help him very much this time, but he was very grateful anyways.
Adela Campallo is a really lovely person and dancer. I enjoy her classes. Luckily I have some friends who I´ve just made, in the class who have helped me catch up with what I didn´t learn last month. Yu fu, from Taiwan and Miho from Japan. There are lots of other nice girls too. Today Rafael, her brother, substituted for her. I really enjoyed his class. He still reminds me of my cousin Trevor. He´s an excellent teacher, and can be very serious about the important aspects of dancing, particularly the simplest (but most difficult) things that most people tend to overlook: to connection with the music, the complete control of all your movements, taking things slowly and relaxedly. He seems to be always smiling or laughing: even while making us do an extremely repetitive exercise that exhausts us. He adds accents all over the place and just plays. No wonder he seems happy, smiling and laughing: who wouldn´t be, if your entire job involved playing with rhythm? What better possible thing in the world is there? He tells us he doesn´t think of himself as a dancer with particularly fast feet (you would laugh if you saw him dance). He says his special mark is adding accents in the right place. What he says is true - there are others who do ridiculous machine-like footwork that wows people, but doesn´t say a lot.
Anyways, I must go, probably use a computer at the library, or plan out the rest of my lessons for tomorrow on paper.
Monday, April 9, 2012
I had a cancellation tonight, so I jumped at the chance to buy groceries... don't know how I was going to manage to eat properly otherwise. Things have heated up.
Anyways, rather than getting at my work that still needs to be done, immediately after snacking on some finally decent bread (had to run across the river to get it), it sat down at the dining room table (just a tiny table good for two or three really). Pepa was reading on her kindle or other e-book thingy, but as soon as I sat down we started to chat. This was really necessary as last week was loca - semana santa and her grandchildren here and she finally sick the last few days. I feel like an unsociable weirdo eating in my room in front of the computer. It's what I always did in the previous place because of the unpleasantness of my companeras, and for that matter, the dining room. I have had tons of stuff to do as well, so took every chance to be in front of my computer.
Pepa told me of her family - she has three children. Her husband died quite a long time ago and she came back to the city of her birth, after living most of her life in Rio Tinto and Huelva (capital of a neighboring province). Mainly she told me about going to Asturias with her husband, where he was from, on vacation in August. You'd think any Sevillano would be glad to get out of the unbelievable heat during that month. She said she couldn't understand why her sister in law woke them up in the morning because it was sunny and they should all go to the beach. She jumped off a big stone into the ocean, as everyone else was doing, and said she just about died of cold. At first the greenness everywhere was so beautiful. But after a couple days of clouds, and then more clouds and rain. She said, "I'm not a cow. I'm not going to go around eating all this green. I need sun!" And wanted to go back to Andalucia. She said after 28 days of this, she was really depressed.
She tells me about this neighborhood and how everybody knows everyone, and about how open they are. It is true. You can feel it when you cross the bridge. I have had that thought a number of times myself, but she says this is true. People are just that much more friendly here, as if they weren't already in Sevilla center. It is significantly more relaxed.
Anyways, rather than getting at my work that still needs to be done, immediately after snacking on some finally decent bread (had to run across the river to get it), it sat down at the dining room table (just a tiny table good for two or three really). Pepa was reading on her kindle or other e-book thingy, but as soon as I sat down we started to chat. This was really necessary as last week was loca - semana santa and her grandchildren here and she finally sick the last few days. I feel like an unsociable weirdo eating in my room in front of the computer. It's what I always did in the previous place because of the unpleasantness of my companeras, and for that matter, the dining room. I have had tons of stuff to do as well, so took every chance to be in front of my computer.
Pepa told me of her family - she has three children. Her husband died quite a long time ago and she came back to the city of her birth, after living most of her life in Rio Tinto and Huelva (capital of a neighboring province). Mainly she told me about going to Asturias with her husband, where he was from, on vacation in August. You'd think any Sevillano would be glad to get out of the unbelievable heat during that month. She said she couldn't understand why her sister in law woke them up in the morning because it was sunny and they should all go to the beach. She jumped off a big stone into the ocean, as everyone else was doing, and said she just about died of cold. At first the greenness everywhere was so beautiful. But after a couple days of clouds, and then more clouds and rain. She said, "I'm not a cow. I'm not going to go around eating all this green. I need sun!" And wanted to go back to Andalucia. She said after 28 days of this, she was really depressed.
She tells me about this neighborhood and how everybody knows everyone, and about how open they are. It is true. You can feel it when you cross the bridge. I have had that thought a number of times myself, but she says this is true. People are just that much more friendly here, as if they weren't already in Sevilla center. It is significantly more relaxed.
Friday, April 6, 2012
El Torta March in Jerez, Tientos Tangos I was there.
I abandoned my mother
I abandoned my mother
For your love, only.
Only for your love.
Now I find myself without my mother,
alone and without your love.
Now I find myself without a mother, alone and without love.
Double edged dagger.
the love of a woman
a double edged dagger.
I think always on love/ Think that love always is (?)
I was hanging from a thread.
He who has pain doesn't sleep.
I am always sleeping,
... cousin/close female friend, I have no pain.
I lost myself in your arms
Like a Feria doll,
And I can't get out.
Like a feria doll and I can't get out.
The gitanos are sleeping
the trees are singing,
the moon is dancing on the river
Gypsy was my mother,
gypsy was my grandmother,
and the moon that shines on me,
gypsy too.
....without you I can't live.
And I cry and I cry and I cry...
I abandoned my mother
I abandoned my mother
For your love, only.
Only for your love.
Now I find myself without my mother,
alone and without your love.
Now I find myself without a mother, alone and without love.
Double edged dagger.
the love of a woman
a double edged dagger.
I think always on love/ Think that love always is (?)
I was hanging from a thread.
He who has pain doesn't sleep.
I am always sleeping,
... cousin/close female friend, I have no pain.
I lost myself in your arms
Like a Feria doll,
And I can't get out.
Like a feria doll and I can't get out.
The gitanos are sleeping
the trees are singing,
the moon is dancing on the river
Gypsy was my mother,
gypsy was my grandmother,
and the moon that shines on me,
gypsy too.
....without you I can't live.
And I cry and I cry and I cry...
This morning my narrow pedestrian alley below my tiny balcony was humming with passersby by 9:00. I finally got up around 11, and went out into the street right away. The crowds have continued until now, 1 pm. The Virgen has just returned from the entire night of being carried around the city. I went to the foot of my street and tried to get a glimpse of her among the throng that filled the entire street for blocks, and the Plaza behind me. I wandered back and forth; every alleyway leading onto Calle Pureza was crammed with people hoping to see the paso as it passed. I settled for glimpses from a distance, and then went to have breakfast at a sunny bar on Rodrigo de Triana (same street where I go to school). The bar was crammed of course, with people doing the same thing as me. I stood at a table outside and looked at the tropical plants and geraniums on some particularly beautiful balconies. The various processions winding up for today were being broadcast on the TV in the bar, and being watched by Pepa and the boys when I got home.
The alley smells strongly of urine - no surprise with people having to wait hours in crowds. I heard a couple of saetas on TV and now I have to go to work (just here in my room). As an aside - I think I understand what stitches are for, as my finger is still bleeding at times, a whole week after cutting it.
The alley smells strongly of urine - no surprise with people having to wait hours in crowds. I heard a couple of saetas on TV and now I have to go to work (just here in my room). As an aside - I think I understand what stitches are for, as my finger is still bleeding at times, a whole week after cutting it.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
There is standing room only at 1 am in the morning, with people filling all streets leading towards the Arco de la Macarena. It is not raining and the processions for tonight are going ahead. I went to Mara's place to help her proofread a paper for submission to a scientific journal - she is a biologist. Her house is on the riverfront, just around the corner from mine. It was 12:45 and Calle Pureza, the one just back from the river, was lined with people staking out a spot. The sidewalk is full and people are spilling off into the streets. They will wait for a while, since the procession isn't due to come out till 2:00. I should go out and watch it. I don't know why I can already hear drums. Perhaps they've gone out earlier than expected tonight due to threatening rain.
Uh... stupid. No. They go out on time. I just waited an hour to see a bunch of guys in pointy hats. The paso was coming really soon, but I literally couldn't stand the cold one more minute. You can make pancakes at 3 am really, really quietly, if you really really need to.
Now I am sitting here with a hot water bottle on my lap eating pancake and hoping I don't get a cold, right when I am working really hard on learning a new choreography, and can't in any way afford to miss a class.
Yesterday was my first day dancing hard. One hour of class, two in the studio. I have not done any at all for more than a month. Not even studio. I cannot really afford the time or money for the studio, but that is beside the point. Some things are not negociable. The rest will work itself out somehow. Yesterday I looked and felt like I was going to fall over, walking down the street. I got home and ate a bunch of chicharrones, then made other more typically healthy stuff, and later after teaching two classes in the evening bought meat. Today I feel the opposite - totally amazing after 2 hours of hard practice.
Yesterday I also ending up walking significant distances across the city, due to the inability to take a bike, because of the pasos and crowds blocking streets. I shopped in Nervion (the distant suburbs) due to the Corte Ingles department store being the only grocery store in all of Andalucia open till 10 pm, and the Nervion location being the only one accessible to me at that time of night, during Semana Santa. It is now 3:40 and I can hear the Virgen coming out of Pureza street. I can hear the band that accompanies her, that is.
Today is Madrugada. That is why the pasos are starting out in the middle of the night. They will go all night, several lasting until noon tomorrow. This also means that all day today, people were dressed in black and women had the huge combs in their hair with black lace veils. The whole city was out in the streets, sitting, standing, talking, eating and drinking. And queing up to visit the pasos inside the churches before they went out tonight. Today and tomorrow are holidays. I am inside the house with the doors shut, but I can hear massive applause from the enormous crowd still gathered in Plaza Altozano.
Uh... stupid. No. They go out on time. I just waited an hour to see a bunch of guys in pointy hats. The paso was coming really soon, but I literally couldn't stand the cold one more minute. You can make pancakes at 3 am really, really quietly, if you really really need to.
Now I am sitting here with a hot water bottle on my lap eating pancake and hoping I don't get a cold, right when I am working really hard on learning a new choreography, and can't in any way afford to miss a class.
Yesterday was my first day dancing hard. One hour of class, two in the studio. I have not done any at all for more than a month. Not even studio. I cannot really afford the time or money for the studio, but that is beside the point. Some things are not negociable. The rest will work itself out somehow. Yesterday I looked and felt like I was going to fall over, walking down the street. I got home and ate a bunch of chicharrones, then made other more typically healthy stuff, and later after teaching two classes in the evening bought meat. Today I feel the opposite - totally amazing after 2 hours of hard practice.
Yesterday I also ending up walking significant distances across the city, due to the inability to take a bike, because of the pasos and crowds blocking streets. I shopped in Nervion (the distant suburbs) due to the Corte Ingles department store being the only grocery store in all of Andalucia open till 10 pm, and the Nervion location being the only one accessible to me at that time of night, during Semana Santa. It is now 3:40 and I can hear the Virgen coming out of Pureza street. I can hear the band that accompanies her, that is.
Today is Madrugada. That is why the pasos are starting out in the middle of the night. They will go all night, several lasting until noon tomorrow. This also means that all day today, people were dressed in black and women had the huge combs in their hair with black lace veils. The whole city was out in the streets, sitting, standing, talking, eating and drinking. And queing up to visit the pasos inside the churches before they went out tonight. Today and tomorrow are holidays. I am inside the house with the doors shut, but I can hear massive applause from the enormous crowd still gathered in Plaza Altozano.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Taking very precious time to write... I must focus and drop off the blog horizon for a while. Moved to Triana. Went out Sunday (Domingo de Ramos - one of the most important days of Semana Santa, when everyone and their children, dog and grandmother are crowding the streets, and dressed up). Spent the day chatting, eating tapas, drinking wine, and out navigating crowds, despite rain, in heels. I was supposed to be paying, in order to say thanks for helping me move, but I was refused, despite a valiant attempt.
Pepa is really sweet and her daughter Marta lives with her. Marta has two adorable 10 year old twins who live with their father. They are really nice, polite, smart boys, who visit often. Pepa often calls me "querida" ("love"), and while she has strict expectations about how to keep things clean, at least it is all clear and discussed openly and nicely, and she does the major cleaning. All I have to do is keep the kitchen and bathroom wiped up after myself.
I started my first dance class since August, yesterday, with the lovely and renowned Adela Campallo, sister of Rafael, with whom I studied last year. It is an intermediate class, and the moves are not difficult, but they have already been learning them for a month, so I have to catch up fast, which is hard for me. The trouble is the speed with which everyone is already executing them. Here is Adela dancing the exact thing she is teaching us:
Galeras - Spanish sailing ships synonymous with awful forced labour, and "condemnation" - a very gitano theme.
Semana Santa is a chance to catch up on some class planning that is really stressing me, and to try to finish off my English teaching certificate. I really need to rent a studio again to practice or it is going to be no use taking classes. I don't know where I will fit that in. Not exactly sure how all this craziness is going to work out. I am making (when nobody cancels classes, and there are no holidays work a whole week) just barely enough to get by on, and that is being more spartan than I sometimes manage. If I have all scheduled classes I have 12 hours per week. But I seem to be working more than full time, planning. I do not feel that I can fit in more students at this point, unless they are back to back with others of the same level... even then...
I must start working.
Pepa is really sweet and her daughter Marta lives with her. Marta has two adorable 10 year old twins who live with their father. They are really nice, polite, smart boys, who visit often. Pepa often calls me "querida" ("love"), and while she has strict expectations about how to keep things clean, at least it is all clear and discussed openly and nicely, and she does the major cleaning. All I have to do is keep the kitchen and bathroom wiped up after myself.
I started my first dance class since August, yesterday, with the lovely and renowned Adela Campallo, sister of Rafael, with whom I studied last year. It is an intermediate class, and the moves are not difficult, but they have already been learning them for a month, so I have to catch up fast, which is hard for me. The trouble is the speed with which everyone is already executing them. Here is Adela dancing the exact thing she is teaching us:
Galeras - Spanish sailing ships synonymous with awful forced labour, and "condemnation" - a very gitano theme.
Semana Santa is a chance to catch up on some class planning that is really stressing me, and to try to finish off my English teaching certificate. I really need to rent a studio again to practice or it is going to be no use taking classes. I don't know where I will fit that in. Not exactly sure how all this craziness is going to work out. I am making (when nobody cancels classes, and there are no holidays work a whole week) just barely enough to get by on, and that is being more spartan than I sometimes manage. If I have all scheduled classes I have 12 hours per week. But I seem to be working more than full time, planning. I do not feel that I can fit in more students at this point, unless they are back to back with others of the same level... even then...
I must start working.
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