Saturday afternoon normally involves going to an alley across from the market. On one side of the alley there is a Tabanco (place which traditionally sells sherry from barrels, and which currently also hosts local flamenco singers with a microphone Saturday afternoons) and across from it is a tiny bar with tables for standing only, just outside. It is here we usually end up, because of our friends, Juan, Gonzalo, Marco, and various others who come and go. Not many other foreign flamenco dancers go there, but occassionally one who has been here a long time drops by.

I generally feel like staying home these days, sitting in the sun and working on my projects, when I don't have a specific event or work to go to. I often feel too intimidated by the rest of the flamenco community here. But with these guys I feel comfortable, and especially with Juan. Juan doesn't even go on about my blue eyes or that I'm guapa, which practically all of the old men do, and even though many of them are lovely and trustworthy people, it's just so much nicer to be treated as a human. Juan must be close to my parents' age. I've never seen him without his narrow rimmed fedora. He has a gold tooth or two and the rest look like they are only hanging there. He loves to sing - he can't stop himself though he is supposed to be taking a rest. Last time he expressed some strong views on life here and mentioned some history which was very interesting to me. Today he explained about his visit to a throat specialist and what exactly the vocal chords do and how they look. He has to learn to sing with his diaphragm so he can continue to sing at all. Jose, a recent acquaintance in this gang, told us about Juan hanging out at a camp (with tents) near plaza Arenal last year. Everyone who was in the city at that time saw this camp, which was in protest of the awful economic situation, specifically of the corrupt city hall. The campers were trying to uphold a serious image for the media, and although Juan was there to support them (and from the sounds of it, he believes just as deeply in the cause as anyone, and perhaps more), he always brought a bottle of wine and wanted to sing, which according to the serious Jose, was disasterous.
This is exactly why I like Juan.