I had my first student in Jerez over the last 2 days: a very accomplished financial director who has a 4 month old baby and now is trying for a job with a project Airbus is doing in Puerto de Santa Maria, the next town over from Jerez. My first female student, aside from Inma at the company, a very gentle woman. Her place was a 40 minute walk way out to a part of Jerez I've only driven by or gone by on the train. I had to do that there and back Wednesday and Thursday. 7:30 should be a better time of the day but it still is not very cool. Busses in Jerez run every 2 hours and quit early. Sevilla and some areas south have been an alert for extreme heat. It was supposed to be up to 48 or 49 degrees here one of those days. At 11:00 am on a slightly cooler morning, drinking tea and eating oats is making sweat run.

On the weekend Geoffrey and I watched football games each night, went to the beach and ate good food. When I came back on Wednesday though, the last two days were serious. Teaching, finding internet access in Jerez in the middle of the afternoon...

Saturday and Wednesday were big Spain football nights. It is the semi-finals and we joined the folks at bar Porron, one of the first places I knew in Jerez two years ago - a stopping off point from Olvera on the way to dance classes, and right around the corner from Geoffrey's house. Chairs are crowding the entire front room of the rustically decorated place (wood beams on the roof, antiques on the shelves) with standing room behind them, beside the bar. Families, people of all ages, the folks of the neighborhood are there. They joke with us as we enter, the first night, asking whether we are from France, as we don't want to 'pasarlo mal' there (have a bad time, as Spain was playing France that night). They tie strips of Spanish flag ribbon around our wrists. I believe that if the football team could be fueled by the people's cheering, in this one bar, let alone everywhere, they would win for sure. It would be impossible not to, with the encouragement this crowd was giving. The place continually erupts with Vamos, hijo, Anda ya!, No que no que no (if the other team looks like they might score). Occassionally there are insults to the mother of some member of the opposite team who trips or hits a Spanish player.
They clap, like everyone everywhere does, but they clap more securely, and several times the clapping of the crowd spontaneously gels into 3s, several times with contras (claps by some people, on the offbeat) and once each evening, literally into bulerias. We are both utterly amazed and in awe of the people watching the game, just as much as of the game.

Geoffrey's solar oven plans are evolving, now 6 or 8 reflective squares are set on a decent frame made of recycled pallet wood, and using a heavy iron stand for an antique fan. Some vegetables were roasted close to adequately and finished off a bit on the stove.

He roasted sardines in a special metal box with burning woodchips inside it. The sardines are at their peak now, and these were so spectacular, the mild smoke of the woodchips made them as rich as chocolate - there was actually something reminiscent of chocolate about them.

I was up at 5:30 this morning on the 6:15 train and done my work for the morning now - finally having breakfast at 11:00.

I am having some manzanilla (that is a type of vino from Sanlucar de la Barrameda that is almost exactly the same as Jerez - sherry, except that the yeast is different and the air from the ocean is slightly different). For some reason of snobbery or connection, they only drink manzanilla in Seville. There is a little shop that I finally decided to go in. You get your wine straight out of the barrel. You can bring your own bottle, or buy a plain plastic bottle from them for 30 centimos, and it costs €3,10 for a litre, well, of the Fino, that is. The lady happily told me that she never gets headaches from it. It is not processed like it has to be to be put in bottles. It gets colour or other stuff added to be put in glass bottle for commercial retail sale.
Anyways, I am drinking a bit with my rice, which is finally done at 11:15. I put some manzanilla in the rice too.

I am very happy in the last few days. That is because I've gotten myself out of a month long awful black cloud of feeling I could not tell Pepa I was leaving because I knew she wouldn't like it and had already reacted badly. Anyways, I think she is happier now too for some reason. We are both singing around the house.

I have been very frustrated with my English teaching. It is not something I have a large enough interest in to develop, in order to do it well. It is worthy of an entire career of many years and not like a waitressing job, as many people see it. But I have to, because I need to make a living. I've felt I'm being forced all over again to pursue something very intellectually demanding, that I do not love. But I finally realised I have to do it my way, and then I can get behind it and put enough effort in to do it while I still have to.

I hit on an amazing trick yesterday. Music. I have already used it, but yesterday realised it could be used a lot more. An American former rock and roller teaches English entirely through music, and requires the students to sing. She even has her own textbook that she sells online, and a video explaining.

Well, I went to class with U2, Still Haven't Found What I'm looking for, because it uses the present perfect over and over. Que guapo cancion.... says my student. But after that he starts to sing Girl from Ipanema in Brazilian. After to the original guy who wrote it, singing it (not Stan Getz or Astrid Gilberto), we find the lyrics in English and listen to the "American version". This suits him much better. Indeed he is a Spanish man and learning the words "tall and tan and young and lovely" are quite a bit more suitable than stuff angsty Irish youth sing about. He is really interested in the lesson now.

He tells me that he once knew of a math teacher that taught everything using sex. All the students did really, really well. I decide to use Gloria, by Them (Van Morrison) next time. Beside having hints of naughtiness, it teaches spelling. At least of two very often confused letters, I and A.

Then I stay up till 2 am, going from Big Joe Williams, Big Mama Thornton, to Ella Fitzgerald, and somehow getting over to George Michaels. It ends up being a lonely 80s dance party in my room, being actually nostalgic for that era, which I thought I was pretty happy to leave! With this much hindsight, I see my relative innocence then. In the 80s, I was still happy to be part of the dominant culture in this world, and in fact didn't give it really any thought. Everyone I watch lacks cynicism compared to my peers today. Everyone I watch dances in a simple but gutsy fashion. Ella and George Michaels alike. Nowadays everyone is too cool for that.

Tio

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OMOGaugKpzs

i am suddenly thinking of my uncle, because i am listening to the Police. i remember him having a record, when i was a little girl. it was probably even this song that i heard him playing.

this is for him, because i have to believe he is with me. and i have to go on living life to the fullest the best i can because of him. i have to continue on in the same path.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&feature=endscreen&v=MbXWrmQW-OEm
or it could have been this one.

Don't know why I seem to gravitate to older ladies. The trouble is, things always turn out badly to very badly with them. I would be way better off with a young, casual guy. I once looked at an apartment of young guys. They were normal, but more importantly, really calm. Like nothing would ever ruffle them, except futbol, maybe, or a passing chica.

You'd think I'd know myself better by now. Think I might have figured it out this time. Kim cannot live with people who make all the rules, who are picky, and who are nervous, agitated or anxious. When a person makes even small criticisms under these circumstances, or nags, indicates frustration or something resembling anger without first giving a warning as to the fact that the issue is an issue, this is a recipe for disaster. Many people dont know basic appropriate behaviour - you can't get angry with someone when you haven't made it clear that their behaviour bothers you first. Or it's better not to say things in an accusatory manner, even though you feel you are right. Kim does not handle these kinds of behaviours. At all. There is a big X across that person, that says they cannot be trusted, and this does not give Kim the desire to sit in the living room with them. This kind of person normally does not like to be told, even in an un-emotional way, that their behaviour is disturbing. Hence, the relationship ends.

Living alone may not happen yet, but living in Jerez will. July 15.

Saturday I went to Matalascañas with Mara and Daniela. We started off around noon in Mara's car. That was dumb. All of Seville was headed to the beach as well. It was like the highway out of Willingdon towards the Fraser Valley on a Friday afternoon. We finally got there several hours later. This beach is in Huelva, looking west out to the Atlantic. You walk along a boardwalk for a kilometer, through pine forest (low, rounded top pines), before you come down off the dunes onto the beach. there are calcite type rocks with interesting formations and very few people at this beach. (Still enough people, compared to beaches at home, but few for here).

On the way I asked why people go to the beach in Spain in the summer, to cool down. My experience in Cadiz has been that it makes absolutely no sense at all to go to a place where there is no shade, and you are utterly baking under the sun, in the height of summer, rather than stay in your roasting but at least shady house in the city. My question was answered in Matalascañas. Despite the sun and 40+ weather in Seville, there was quite a breeze and the ocean was cold -  enough to turn one person's hands blue. Just put on tons of 50 sunscreen and you're fine. In Spain you always bring a beach umbrella. At home this isn't really necessary, as you can lay out in the sun all day and put on sunscreen here and there and you won't die like a lobster in a boiling pot. But here it usually is uncomfortable and senseless without a beach umbrella. Everyone has them, all down the beach. The trouble with ours was that it was occupied by Faro, my black and white friend. It wasn't big enough for 3 girls anyways. It was an awesome day, so amazing to actually see nature, and to play in good sized, cold waves, albeit with lots of seaweed.

Yesterday I danced, had a picnic outside the studio with Sachiko, who always has level-headed but sensitive advice for her friend who is almost always having some sort of trouble or other. Then I had an English class with Marcelino, which focussed on a 6 minute Sesame Street video meant to explain the Spanish words Cerrado and Abierto to English speaking children. Those are the only Spanish words used, and the exercise is excellent to teach a lot of other basic words to Spanish speakers, while being totally hilarious, with its stereotypical Mexican music. The Sesame Street character says that he loves and then hates these two words, and that "Cerrado (closed) is much worse than I supposed" because everything in his house is closed and he can't get it open to get out clothing, food, or whatever. Anyways, I am very happy to have a student whose sense of fun is well intact, despite him seeming in the very beginning to be a distinguished and intimidating businessman.

A few days before, our discussions were about his sailing trips. He has sailed 4 times from Barcelona to Tenerife in the Canary Islands, in a 12 foot sailboat without a satellite phone or radio, and without stopping, for 2 weeks. He is the one who had his own business building sailboats, in Argentina.

Sevilla has been incredibly beautiful recently. Every time I walk back from Santa cruz (which is a marvel in itself) after Marcelino's class, or after seeing Maria, I pretty much have to pass the cathedral. It is usually around sunset and there are swarms of swallows. The main streets around the cathedral are at least partly car-free, and all full of sidewalk cafes. Add to this swallows swarming and on one side of the cathedral, swooping down in great numbers across the street, with a backdrop of colourful sky and it gives the most central location in the city a feeling of a far away, deserted place that is only possible in your dreams.

I must now do work, because again I am procrastinating, sitting here writing.

i dont feel like worrying or complaining after i come from the tienda de Maria, even though things are kind of hectic. Tonight was a particular night there and all i feel like doing now is drinking lime water and eating pineapple. Of course I should be sleeping as it is 1:30. Maria's shop doesn't usually stay open that late.

I went to take pictures of her alpargatas (traditional Spanish sandals which she sews there in the shop), so I could make her a Facebook page. I decided to take it on myself to do that, when she told me she was trying to sell them elsewhere because business wasn't good, and she can't get into her website to update it.

When I walked in there was a well dressed lady sitting there which isn't uncommon. but this time it was her sister. then her other sister came in and they both modelled the alpargatas while i took pictures. I'd never met her sisters, Inma (Inmaculada) and Ignacia. Maria is the bohemian one in the family. After a bit, it became apparent something special was going on. I was offered a beer or tinto but Maria told me "they are bringing mosto". Theresa arrived (a wonderful, genuine and very stylish French woman), followed by Isabel and Antonio. Maria called up Barbara. It was Isabel who came with a basket of provisions. Isabel is a beautiful lady around 60 plus or minus 5 years. It is quite amazing how lovely she is for her age. Part of it is a gentle personality. Maria told me she has been through very hard times including lately financially and that all of Sevilla knows but Isabel doesn't let anything bother her. Tonight she came bearing mosto (young wine, before it has fermented much or something, while it still may be slightly yeasty or bubbly, and like juice), jamon and another kind of embutido like lomo (meat), all homemade from her "campo" (country place in the hills of Aracena). I have tried mosto before, but this was spectacular compared to the other. The jamon and lomo were excellent too, perhaps de bellota (acorn fed... I wouldnt be able to tell, but in that area, many are).

Ignacia is apparently good friends of Concha Vargas, she says. Barbara is Swiss but has lived between Seville and Switzerland for 12 years. She works as a tour guide of a special sort, where she takes people, for example, very small groups for whom money is no object, on trips to Granada, or to Mallorca, and gets to see things most people won't and drink bottles of wine most people can't. She is also enamorada of flamenco. I found out tonight how completely hilarious Barbara is, as she told us personal stories about an old love she just ran into, in her quirky but totally uncontrived way, lamenting and musing out loud about it.

Theresa is a fascinating lady, whom I know better than the others, as she took it upon herself to protect me a bit last year, during one of my apartment hunting phases. She teaches French at the university here, has lived in Africa (if i remember right) and has a great deal of knowledge about the non-European world. Maria's sisters are very sweet and welcoming people.

It is perhaps easier in the digital age to make dificult decisions and do courageous things. All, and I mean every last one of my major life changes was made by clicking a button on my mouse that made something happen on the internet (going to China in 2005, quitting my job and coming here in 2010, getting work here).

I put in all my information, think about it for a while, sometimes a few days, I am nervous to the point of shaking and finally I click the button. I could say no, still, after it's done, but normally things just happen and then i go along with it. People call, the day to get on the plane arrives...

This change isnt so huge. I just put an ad on mundoanuncio.com that I will give English classes in Jerez 3 days a week. Now comes the hard part, but I probably dont even need to face it yet, thanks to Geoffrey letting me stay in his apartment while i look for a place. the hardest part is telling Pepa to start looking for someone else. She is a very nice lady but I am turned to jello thinking she will be pissed off at me for wanting to leave during the summer.

I have only Wed and Friday mornings at Zaizi and Wednesday nights with the one Paco, and then Marcelino. He cancels so often that it wont be as hard to tell him that he is down to two possible days, once things get going in Jerez and that he will have to commit or pay in advance or something, to reserve my precious time in Sevilla on those two days.

So there. I am freaked out about everything. Adrenaline rushing. I am scared to make the move but I dont think it's wrong. Pretty much everything is confusing and scary - work, place to live, men... I just want to curl into a ball and stay in one place and do nothing but then i would starve. Oh well, here goes again.

The next step is to arrange my time, demand enough money and start making shoes or at least clothes.

the last few days Sevilla has been magic. Just when i am thinking of leaving.
thursday night i walked back from teaching, past the cathedral, along the south side where I dont usually go. There was a breeze and thousands of swallows were screeching and riding the breezes way high up, constantly forming different patterns in the sky, beside the cathedral's cornices. Several evenings have been unbelievably beautiful. Of course there are always people playing accordions and stuff along with all that.
On Friday, i went to teach the remaining Paco early, since its kind of a long weekend. Since i had an awkward break between him and Marcelino, i camped out in Maria's shop, really I think almost my favorite thing to do in the entire city. At 5:30 all the bells in the Giralda started ringing at once. This is not an everyday occurence. It is Corpus Cristi. They celebrate it over a period of a week or more here, though I think the actual day may be just one day. Maria told me to go look, so I ran down Calle Mateos Gago and stood staring at about 20 huge bells in the tower ringing.

This morning incredible exotic, fantastic music woke me up. it was the marching bands (not even remotely like any marching band you'd be used to) celebrating Corpus Cristi. I went out just before noon, in time to catch breakfast at a nearby bar, as i have not had a chance to restock breakfast supplies at home. Calle Rodrigo de Triana was full of people, dressed up, and stopping to cross themselves in front of ornate altars set up at intervals: adorned with fresh flowers, silver candelabra, beautiful virgen with baby Jesus´s and many candles they have to keep lighting. People were walking around clutching stems of wheat and rosemary... from what I understand, ancient pagan harvest or fertility stuff mixed in with Christianity back in the middle ages.
As for me, I ordered, with some difficulty, from the waiters concerned with the massive stack of dirty plates and other customers asking for bills, my favorite breakfast, maybe in the world - cafe solo y tostada con tomate y aceite. I stood outside at a standing table on the street and watched the people pass and took the opportunity to stare at the amazing buildings that are part of my environment.

One of my students at Zaizi, the company, said that morning that Sevillanos have a very "particular" character. They are a bit close-minded and some of their traditions are a bit senseless. He is from a town nearby. For example, they arent really religious but they dress up in all the religious get-up for Semana Santa and parade around... he doesnt think much of that. His co-worker is a Sevillano and dresses up as a Nazareno (pointed hat guy) with his entire family, every year. It is simply a tradition. They argued a bit. The first one said that Sevillanos tend to be a closed because they think they've got it all in Sevilla and nowhere else in the world really comes close, so they dont really care to know about it. He admitted, though, that Sevilla probably was the most beautiful city in the world and so the Sevillanos have some reason behind their annoying behaviour/attitude.

After returning from Jerez yesterday, I felt the same. Where else do you get stunning horses routinely pulling ancient, gorgeously kept up carriages around the streets? That was the first sight i saw as the bus came into the city center.

I went on a reconnaisance tour to Jerez. This time I had nowhere to stay. I had not prepared in advance much except to look up a bunch of apartments on the internet, but hadnt called anyone till i actually got on the bus. Maria's advice is excellent philosophically, but sometimes doesnt pan out practically. When she tells me not to worry about the future and just do what makes sense now and see what you feel like tomorrow when it arrives, it helps a lot to make decisions about the now. But when she tells me to just go to Jerez and look around on the street for signs ... well, she is thinking about another era. Unfortunately, a huge percentage of apartment looking must be done through stupid agencies that dont work on Saturday or Sunday, when people are most likely to be able to come down from Sevilla, for example. Anyways, her advice was right in the end. I managed to make connections in a different way.

At the moment i wish it were possible to get a mortgage. I am missing two key things that the bank would obviously want. i will not state those things, as it is not good to state them. Suffice it to say that real estate in jerez right now is so utterly dirt cheap its not even funny. I could buy a very cute little one bedroom apartment for as little as 25,000€. Checking that on a mortgage calculator, I'd be paying 170€ a month, at whatever interest rate was the default in the calculator, and for 20 years. That is less than what it costs to rent a shared, crappy apartment in Sevilla, about the same as a decent shared apartment in Jerez, almost half of what I pay now for a decent shared apartment in Sevilla and almost half of what I'll be paying in Jerez for renting a 1 bedroom. Granted, I don't know what the quality of this apartment would be, but the pictures on the internet didnt look bad. There was one that looked really reasonable for 30,000. With extra costs, it would come up a little bit but still would be no more than I pay now.

I have wanted to live in Jerez since the start. i have avoided it because of a friend's discouragement, and thinking i wouldnt be able to get work and so on. mostly excuses to do what I feel is calling me. I still feel a bit uncertain but believe its probably where I should be. I felt very strongly about it last year, and again this year during the festival. Sevilla is more beautiful, has more going on, i have friends here now... etc, etc. But somehow I dont think any of that matters all that much. Perhaps i like Jerez so much because it has remained the place I go to escape, on holidays -  i havent yet worked there or tried to live a 'normal' life. So maybe I am fooling myself. but i believe there is more to it. First of all, i crave the peace and quiet that is there. There are all sorts of things that worry me that perhaps i am just trying to run away from my problems instead of learning to deal with them. That may partially be the case right now, and of course I will escape nothing in the end, except perhaps a little bit of stress due to the relative size and busy-ness of Sevilla. In the past anyways, it has been more that something intense is drawing me there, despite whatever illusions i may have about it being magic and an escape.

The most noticeable thing about it aside from the peace and absence of people on a Saturday afternoon, is the different behaviour of men. Sometimes I thought I must be exaggerating it. I stopped to figure out what to do at Bar Los Tres Reyes, where I'd been with Geoffrey two weeks ago. I was a bit hesitant as I didnt know if I wanted them to recognise me or to see the same people. As much as it was fun last time, it was also muy fuerte (intense). I didnt see the same guys so I ordered a tinto de verano (less alcohol, i am trying not to drink right now as i have some funny health reactions). It wasnt long before a flamenco singer that insisted he only sings on big stages and not in the streets, came along with a torero (bullfighter) and insisted that i put on a bracelet. the 'flamenco singer' insisted so hard that i didnt know how to refuse. i refused quite strongly several times but he was even more insistent, so in those cases i figure that it is their fault if they go and expect anything from me afterwards. the trouble is, i am not sure if it works that way. i still do not understand those kinds of situations... at least in jerez. i think if you absolutely do not want any trouble from a guy, you probably have to beat him at his game of who is the most powerful insister. he poured me a drink from his bottle of jerez, despite strong insistence. i agreed to sit with them for a bit and laughed at their silliness and antics. probably i am a lame sucker for men's attention even if they are losers. on the other hand, i am also an open person who doesnt like to judge people and likes to connect, giving them a chance to be silly up to a certain point, without getting all uptight. the 'flamenco singer' who said he sung jondo (deep, serious) flamenco, when asked (thing like bulerias, siguiriyas, he said) kept commenting on how i could possibly be so guapa and be 40. Very amusingly pretending he had to avert his eyes from me after looking down to my feet and saying that I was guapa even down to my toes. Someone else at a different table told me I had to understand that people here like 'cachondeo' (to joke around). I suppose that i have enough sense to understand that it is all just fun and nobody is going to hurt me. though it can be uncomfortable at times. The thing is, i dont know what to do with it or exactly how to handle it and this makes me curious. that is partly why i go along with it for a while. I was very hesitant to give him my phone number. He got a pen but finally stopped when i said I'm not sure or i dont know, I might give it to you but probably wont go out with you if you call me. Then he disappeared. About then, some of the other men who were there last time were starting to arrive. They recognised me and pulled me into their circle. one man was new since last time, undoubtedly not new to them though! He was a crazy old character, and I felt safe enough with him despite his intenseness. They started singing, Salmonete arrived, Emilio told me to dance. I hung out for quite a while, talked with the cousin of Joaquin Grilo (famous dancer), being the center of attention of what other girls might think of as a bunch of dirty old men, but who are totally harmless (well perhaps except for one or two who were a bit slimy). The same crazy, missing tooth guy with his polkadot shirt came by. He was cachondeo-ing like crazy with my new friend Kiki de Jerez. Kiki told me 'he is macho (male) but he has a novio (boyfriend)'. They are supposed to be notoriously homophobic in jerez, but these men despite their age, seemed to be quite accepting and were joking around hilariously and rather crudely to be quite honest. The crazy polkadot guy danced, alternating with some dancing by me. This time he did fall on the floor, as part of his bulerias routine, like they told me last time.
At one point, Emilio leaned over the bar and said, you dont have to worry here, we are all good people and you should feel free to express yourself if you want to dance. We all do the best we can. Dont worry if you are learning. They all tell me I dance well. This time I didnt dance as well as last time. they were being super hospitable to me, really, wanting to give me a chance to practice my dancing and singing for me. Kiki at one point sang an extremely intense Sevillanas letra, at the top of his lungs, his face going red from the exertion. It is fascinating to see these people in action. Fascinating to see them put so much emotion into expressing themselves, fascinating the way Emilio got up from his chair behind the bar, and grabbed Kiki's hand to shake it, saying some casual thanks or encouragement with real sincerity. they appreciate it when each other lets out what is inside, in a genuine way. Emilio is an excellent singer. He sanf a couple times for me and said once, this is for Ana with all my corazon.

What came out of it practically was that Kiki knew someone with an apartment for rent and so did another onlooker, Luis, who was more of a normal guy, around my age. I went to look at Luis's place later on, after having a lunch of bread, cheese, lomo, and a tomato that I ate like an apple, sitting on a concrete ledge in Plaza Asuncion. Luis is a wildlife veterinarian and a more wordlywise person (that is to say, aware of how a foreign girl might feel surrounded by men like the guys in the Tres Reyes). He is someone I could be friends with. the place was beside his, it was a beautiful, modern, decent sized 1 bedroom place for the same price as what I'm paying now for sharing (plus a bit of electricity and water). I may be stupid not to take it, but I dont feel like its right. For one, i should be closer to the bus and train, as Im thinking of commuting to Sevilla 2 days a week, very, very early in the morning, which would pay my rent.

I met another woman who showed me a tiny 1 bedroom in San Miguel, in a genuine casa de vecinos. that would be totally fuerte... There would be my own kitchen and bathroom but Id have to go into a shared hallway to access them. the living quarters with the others would be quite close. there was a family gathered in the lower courtyard, hanging out like in old times, on this saturday afternoon. Would be an experience but I think its not what i need.

Anyways, I am back here, not having yet told Pepa for sure when or if I'm leaving, and not having decided which city i am going to try to look for students to fill my empty summer schedule with.

There is way, way too much to do. I need to get online and look at the thing I'm supposed to be translating, later this month. to do that I need to start reading some English financial or business stuff, so i can remember or keep up with terminology that doesnt come to my head. If i am going to figure out what i really want to do with my life, i need to get designing and sewing, at least until such time as i can start making shoes, somehow. My feria style blouse is sitting on the table with one arm, and all my handstitching. I need to go practice today and then I need to fit in a lesson with Marcelino who cancelled Monday to Wednesday. Luis the veterinarian, whose advice i trust because he is a young guy who knows what is going on around him and has some business sense told me that now is a perfect time to make a living teaching English. More and more I can see this is true. He says people's level of English here is really lacking and now with the crisis they want it more and more. That second part is obvious to me. In 10 years time, things will be different because the overall level may have increased. By then I hope to be making shoes and not need to teach English.

Last night i met Manuel who's real name is Fu Zhi or something. Of course i thought he was one of the many Japanese, he wears black and has long hair, which is not uncommon for male flamencos, Japanese or otherwise. Itś just that you dont usually expect them to be Chinese. Anyways Ive seen him around and finally met and he patiently listened while I attempted to remember how to say a few simple sentences. Heś been here about the same time as me and hasnt met many people to speak his language with, so maybe i will have more chances.

I hung around like a groupie after the show in which Cristo sang. Nearly the entire audience was hanging out in the street and everyone followed everyone else to the Coralon, a place I was familiar with when they were in their old location right beside my old studio. They'd changed locations sometime last year due to the whole thing being illegal and depending completely on neighbours not making complaints. They opened up in what i believe was an old hat factory but I'd heard they were closed down there just about right away and didn't try to go again. But they are alive and well and it is an incredible space. This is one situation in which the word 'space' makes sense and isn't at all pretentious. the space they use is a huge open 'courtyard'... a small gravel lot wedged between an abandoned building and some other buildings plus a slightly cavernous place with partly exposed brick and a very rough floor partly sandy in places. Someone had their motorcycle parked inside in a smaller 'room' (part of the space behind a pillar) and they'd decorated it with a lot of horseshoes, a halter/bridle with a large iron pendant hanging off it, of the virgen del rocio, which i thought was very cute as one sees necklaces for people with virgen del rocio pendants.

I have to say that there is a very good reason i have not hung out in these kinds of places much, which is what I am supposed to do if i really want to be part of the scene here. Unless I go along with someone, it is slightly reminiscent of school: a massive number of people, milling around mixing, having probably inane conversations, all of whom are possibilities to meet and hang out or chat with, if you have the nerve and know how to socially handle large crowds. Sticking yourself in conversations you don't know if you belong in or will be welcome in (culturally influenced), interrupting to say hello to someone you once met or have seen a lot but don't know yet. I am making it sound worse than it is... i did know a few people, and luckily the guitarist's cousin who was visiting from israel was also kind of alone and wanted someone to speak English to. i kind of stuck myself into Cristo's French crowd at the beginning when i dorkily hung around after the show wondering if something else was going to happen. When the person you came to see is the most popular guy there you can't exactly hang off him the whole time! The guitarist, Idan, who is a fixture in the tablaos around here and a very good guitarist, played nonstop (cousin says he never puts down his guitar) until some pros came in from a show. Some other recogniseable guys who play on larger stages. after a while they started up and everyone surrounded them inside. It was a very cool atmosphere with guys singing and dancing bulerias constantly for a while. The kind of place i guess i want to be but insecurity keeps me from it. well, and desire to sleep.

Well this isn't the kind of thing one usually blogs about but i am sure there are others with similar insecurities in these kind of circumstances. I don't think i would be fully satisfied with a quiet life of sitting in a workshop making things, though that would be far more comfortable for me.

Today Pepa's entire family is here with their respective spouses and children for dinner which she has laboured over for a couple of days planning, buying, cutting and that after a week where she could hardly move. She confessed to me that she can't do it anymore. She was so stressed before it. How awful. having to keep up face in front of your children. I told her she shouldn't do that and they should come here and help her. she replied that when she goes to their houses they treat her royally so she must reciprocate. oh well...

I saw the most perfect place to live, in the entire world, yesterday. i saw a for rent sign and called immediately. It was in an old fashioned courtyard house (more like apartment building). it had a long interior courtyard full of plants, tended by the very cute little man Ramon, who showed me around. the 1 bedroom apartment was utterly perfect: not too new, so it had some character, but in excellent repair. a huge room, huge wardrobe, huge bed, excellent bathroom tons of light, perfect kitchen. Perfect everything. The other inhabitants are almost all young professional couples and people tend to hang out with each other. It was perfectly quiet and he says it usually is. I looked because ive thought of the possibility of trying to get a place alone and be able to teach in it. it would cost more but perhaps i'd be able to afford more if i could stick students in consecutive hours while i stay in one place rather than racing around the city. But i am not sure if i can make the leap. I am barely surviving. It would be 2/3 more than I currently pay for rent and i'd have to find a lot of work quickly. I desperately need to change the way i am doing things... i dont know if i am ready to risk renting an expensive (ha ha) place yet. For this kind of place in Vancouver if it existed, you'd pay $1000 easily, once you factored in bills, and most likely more. It's €450 before bills. Probably €500 or a little more. I could make up to 800 a month currently, if none of my students cancel lessons. More likely Ive been making around 600. not really enough to take dance classes or even rent a studio, if i want to go out for coffee, tapas, wine.

But most people of my generation who do anything of value that they can be satisfied with in their lives, have had to construct it themselves -  have an idea and then fight for it, figure it out, risk and make it happen. I dont feel very capable of that. 90% of the problem is people. How to advertise, whether I could handle the emotional pressure of that many classes without losing my soul and getting depressed, and even how to tell Pepa i would be moving out, when I know she doesn't want me to and already got pissed off when I mentioned it. I don't know what to do: to make a leap of faith and put myself in the position of finding more work that I may be highly capable of finding and doing (but i dont know at all) and having an excellent place as something that drives me forward... maybe this is the only way I will go forward... or to be reasonable and not stress myself out and slowly build up. Sometimes i feel that if I don't go for it, I will end up being really lame, staying in a situation that is not using my capabilities, depressing me and keeping me from doing the things I want ...

It is time to do some work. one thing is to see if the sleeve i drafted fits the blouse and works. I am sewing the whole blouse by hand as i still dont have a sewing machine.

2 days ago I saw Cristo's post on Facebook that he'd be here in Sevilla soon. I had not seen him since fall of 2010 when he was touring with Ricardo, but since he lives in Southern France, thought i might have seen him before now.
I assumed, being a highly respected flamenco singer that he'd be very busy here but I went to say hi at the Peña Niño de Alfalfa last night where he was watching a friend dance.
Fortunately his friend asked him to come up and sing for the final bulerias fiesta. What an amazing voice - so powerful. He's one of those people that's on a whole different plane from the kind of person I'm used to or that even exists in my culture - extroverted and confident but more importantly living his passion all the time. It's so inspiring to be around someone who does their art in the way he does. He believes in sharing it and doesn't like competition between flamenco people. He seems like he can't stop himself from singing when he isn't talking.

I'm thinking about that today, after reading a post yesterday from a kind of inspirational blog that talked about what happens when the momentary 'hit' of inspiration leaves. They said that people who live for the next inspired moment when they can feel something big, are like druggies. That you can't survive on inspiration only. That the rest of the time it is hard work. I see in myself that I often come close to a stop when the inspiration leaves. The author likened it to breathing.. that inspiration is like the beginning of inhaling. That you have to continue and exhale deeply, and if you only ever breathe in the beginning of the breath, your breathing will be shallow and panicky. Looking for something to lead you without trusting in yourself and what you want... Looking for something big to come out of the sky and bonk you on the head before you want to get up and do anything. i think the paralysis that comes between 'hits' of inspiration, of talking to God, of feeling something grand, are due to the ghosts and the trauma that some people have to face when life goes back to just being 'normal'.
Maybe it's a perception from the outside that some people are different but I don't think so. (Trite comments about everyone being human and having problems aside... it's how those people deal with them) there is somthing different about people who are unafraid to express themselves genuinely in front of an audience, who have big, open hearts to share their art and to always enjoy life, who's passion keeps them truly alive, whether they make a living from it or not. (I'm not saying everyone who performs is like this. Very far from it).