I desperately need to change the name of this blog, but I am just too busy to do it and to think of a name and all.

This afternoon was the kind of thing money can't buy.

It was Pepe's birthday. I called to wish him Feliz Cumpleaños and ask what he was up to. He is turning 78, and has recently lost his wife, so is quite alone. Some of the foreign chicas have taken it upon ourselves to look after him a bit, at least as far as going out for coffee or a walk. Pepe always is dressed very fashionably. He loves red loafers and will wear a red checkered shirt, or on special occasions, red pants. He's one of the few older men I pretty much trust. 90% of them are liable to get sleazy but not him, thank goodness. Since he comes from a family of people who sing and dance, it is natural to him and all the important flamenco people know and love him. His cousin was the very famous Paquera, whose place of birth is beside Geoffrey's house. If another flamenco is nearby and starts to sing, or keep time for a couple seconds with palmas, Pepe is liable to suddenly burst out with a brief couple of stamps of the feet that sound like music - one or two syncopated beats. Not just anyone that has musical ability can just up and do this. Those that have lived this all their life, have it burst out of them all of a sudden just standing there. It's more than a matter of simply having rhythm and being on time - there is a security in the quality of the sound, whether it is palmas (clapping) or feet, and a lack of effort in the person's attitude and demeanour. People like Pepe for whom it's natural, also do some amusing or characterful gestures at the same time, just a simple shrug of the shoulders at the right moment, a certain look on their face, and an eruption of "Ah...aaah, ...  A - sza!" accenting the rhythm.

Anyways, he said, "Are you coming?" I didn't even know what was going on, but obviously a party was already under way. So I went across through Barrio Santiago and over to the Bar Pulga (Bar Flea) which has written "Tio (Uncle) Gregorio Parilla" on the Cruzcampo sign at the side (like one of those round, plastic Coca Cola signs, except it's beer).

Several of the French student gang were there, along with a couple of men from the Peña Buleria, and Luis de la Tota (a maestro of rhythm with character) and his wife and little son, and Junquerita, our singer for our dance classes. Parrilla's daughter, Rocio, a young and beautiful flamenco singer, and her Mexican boyfriend were also there. Everyone was having rebujitos and paella made with noodles (a proper dish from a certain northern city), then plates of deep fried anchovies and rounds of some other fish.

Then Darian the Mexican guy started playing and Pepe (who's name is El Zorri - the baggage cart, or something to that effect) started singing. He is famed as a dancer but sings very well too. The two gentlemen from the peña sang, and Junquerita. Luis's year old son already imitates some of the most prominent things in his young life (putting his hands together, and raising them up in the air, as well as grabbing his shirt the way the men do, jokingly imitating the women dancing with their skirts). El Gasolina, as I believe his name to be, is an excellent singer. I don't know how long it went on as I had to leave, but I prefer these gatherings over any concert on any stage.