My phone rung at 4:30 am. I picked up but missed her. It was Sachiko. I have so little money I never want to make calls, only text messages. I thought, perhaps something has happened, perhaps it's an emergency.

I should have guessed it was only a juerga. Come! she says, I'm in Jerez at Luis de la Pica with Luis!

Getting my bike out the door at 5 am, I told myself to just pretend I had to catch a plane or something.

Anyways, it was a happening juerga. Sachiko and another Japanese dancer/singer student of Luis's, had gone from Seville with him to El Puerto de Santa Maria (next town over, on the coast) for a festival and all the artists had headed back to the peña here in Santiago after.
It was full of flamencos, many of whom I didn't recognise, obviously some from Seville, one guy said there were a few from Algeciras...

It is hard not to feel like such an outsider in these events. Sachiko doesn't seem to suffer from the same feelings. Partly because she is just a less neurotic person than me, and perhaps maybe a small amount because she is Japanese. The Japanese have a lot of recognition here for their very great "aficion" (aficionados). Their serious interest and often greater knowledge than those from elsewhere (and sometimes I think the fact that they are not white) usually means they are received well.

Anyways, a huge group of people gathers spontaneously, leaving a space in the middle for whoever gets struck with the desire to sing the next letra or dance a bit. The group breaks up at some points, someone continues singing at the side of the bar with a few others doing palmas, then another big circle gathers farther over.

Being from Seville, Sachiko does not see as many fiestas like these as I do, which are not merely stocked with professional musicians, but a crowd of normal gitanos whose life involves flamenco, just being in their veins. This was a particularly good one.

Both the girls danced, something which I don't dare to do yet among such a group of pros and others who have it in their blood. Maybe at the peñas closer to home, soon, where I know more people. When Luis and the two girls had to get a taxi around 7:00, the ladies, who had been almost inactive until later on, almost wouldn't let them leave and insisted that Sachiko dance with one of the them in the middle of the current circle.

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.

This is top notch flamenco. Jose 'Mijita' (little bit) Carpio.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=1TXcvKYmiTk#at=501

This is a show that I saw about 3 weeks ago. Jose is a fantastic singer and it was an excellent show. He is young and still improving but for me there is little better. I have the great fortune to hear him relatively often, as he is connected to the Peña Cernicalos and sings for Carmen, does shows nearby.

Listen to the audience. After he says "Cien años después de muerto, y los gusanos mi cuerpo comio" they all yell, and someone says "¡Ole, Bien!" He has just said, "100 years after I die and the worms have eaten me..."


Today I had an interesting lesson, during my English class with Pilar, a normal Barrio San Miguel girl. (Nobody from the Barrio of San Miguel is "normal" to me. They are all a little bit - more like a lot - special). Pilar doesn't have a particular interest in flamenco, but her cousin runs the Peña buleria which is my hospital of the soul. Her mother is Dolores Agujetas' mother's cousin or something like that, and she's related as well to another famous singer La Macanita, and guitarist Domingo Rubichi. She explains that she doesn't like solitude. She was brought up in a big family and she needs people around. She says, watching a movie alone is not the same as watching with people. For example, if you are watching a comedy you laugh a lot more when the other people around you are laughing too. Same if you see a football game alone as opposed to with people. I think this point is partly obvious, but you can't really understand it, unless you have seen life in a place like this. The extent to which they express themselves when in groups is just so much greater. In a particularly moving flamenco concert, as you hear the constant yelling of encouragement while the music is happening. At a football game they far outdo anything at home, despite the fact that Canadians also occasionally go crazy for major sports events. She says, your body needs to express itself. I think in Canada, your body is used to being farther away from people, so you don't have the same feeling.

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After the class I went to the market. At the fig, nut and bean stall after giving me my half kilo of dates, the guy (whom I know to say hello to) has a pained look on his face. He says "your eyes make a person fall in love", I say thank you and he says "thank you for coming here" in a tone that feels like "thank you for gracing my stall with your presence," and continues with a pained and dramatic lovelorn look. If one were to associate the qualities of his dates with aspects of himself, one might also fall in love. He usually gives me free samples of other things and today poured a handful of the most luscious raisins into my hand.
It's summer time and the Jerezanos don't act a lot different from the other Mediterraneans who I had the special fortune of knowing in grade 2 and up. In fact, one thing that can be said about them is they seem to be very consistent, not changing much as they grow up. Just the other day I was forcibly kissed on the mouth, which has happened about 4 or 5 times during my entire time in Jerez. At least there was pleasant conversation first this time. I'm not sure if the person really meant to do that as he will have to face me in the future.

Moneo family singing

I just found this video. It's the Moneo family singing bulerias. There are a bunch of clips, all separate. This is a really good recording and gives you a good idea of what it's really like in a spontaneous fiesta. This is the treasure that us foreigners seek and sometimes are lucky to watch.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hfw7f0zSfgM

Here is another brilliant one. This is just some kind of gathering and it would all be totally spontaneous, nobody practiced getting up to dance, that is to say. Of course they know how generally.

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

The guy on left at end is Luis Peña, a teacher I studied with briefly in Sevilla. He doesn't usually come to Jerez.

I love my neighbourhood. As I ride my not-so-magic-any-more bike (has seen some beatings, literally) into the Lola Flores square at Bar Maypa, I am liable to catch Antonio the butcher's eye, who is standing at the door visiting, and wave a quick "hola". Paco, at Bar Maypa always greets me if he on his way to or from work, and sometimes Antonio, a member of the Fajardo-Moneo clan (respected flamenco singers) will be sitting on the bench under the olive tree. I am continually surprised that he recognises me, as the times I've previously talked with him he seemed very drunk and is somewhat elderly. Then there is Pacquito, with his white spiky hair and moustache, who is often to be seen swaying his hips and twirling his hands. He calls out "¡hola Keen!" as a fellow owner of the name Kim told him this was my "real" name. Pacquito will say, "my wife walks like this...", and then doing roughly the same thing, adds, "and I walk like this...!" Some say he is not gay at all but this is the persona he has taken on. He loves to act the part, if indeed he is acting. You can guess the answer he gives when you ask him who walks better.
As I get closer to home, I might see Adela or occasionally Maria at the doorway. Adela loves to go for paseos, and always thinks that's what I'm doing too, even if I am going to work. Adela's son may be hanging out in the square with the other unemployed men. And if Mari-Carmen of the Coviran grocery shop is outside putting boxes out, I get a nod. Since the sidewalks are too narrow for two people to pass comfortably and not so convenient for anyone with a stroller, many people amble up the middle of the street, which is one way, like almost every street except for the major ones.
If I go down the next street over, and happen to see them, I'll greet the owners of Bar Porrón, and then Manuel who is always standing somewhere near Peña Buleria or the corner store across the street.
It is common to run into most of my friends or acquaintances in the streets around my home.

There is always something going on on Friday or Saturday night or both. Sometimes there are two events on the same night, that most people want to go to, like last night, so the second event just waits until the people arrive from the first one, and the concert might start 1-2 hours later than advertised.

Last night was the fin de curso of one of the dance teachers. After that Jose Mendez sang at a little bar recently re-opened, and a provider of excellent flamenco (which is almost always free everywhere). It was 11:00 already and Jose's girlfriend was in the Peña watching the dancing. Then Jose came in too, so we knew we didn't have to go over to the bar yet. Half an hour after he was due to start, we followed him over to the bar. On the way we ran into other friends who were going late to the dance show and who we told to come along cause Jose was singing. At the bar, we hung out and talked with Jose and his uncle (a friend of us girls, Pepe, el Zori) and various other people while the owner sang a letra of bulerias himself. Then he yelled, "let's start", so everyone crowded into the room where there are benches along each wall and a few tables and extra stools.
Jose is the nephew of the famous, now dead Paquera de Jerez, whose place of birth is next door. Jose has inherited powerful lungs from his family.
The girls and I squeezed in beside Ani (our teacher) who gave constant jaleo (yelling encouragement) while he sang. Jose is super down to earth and nice. Like most people here - flamenco or not - he remembered me and greeted me warmly, after being introduced only once quite some time before.

Jose sings with all his lungs and soul. At times his voice was almost ear-splitting. The best flamenco is heard without a microphone and this place certainly doesn't have one. Jose doesn't probably ever need one. Flamenco does not have to be sung loud, and those who sing shouldn't attempt to yell, but some people have strong lungs, like this man.

A few nights ago was the fin de curso of Ani, in which I danced a tiny piece of bulerias. I didn't do badly but I wasn't totally pleased. Ani was satisfied with me, which means a lot as if you don't live up to your standards, she can be tough on you. There were three excellent singers that you would not find in a show of this sort in a city like Sevilla. Three singers from old and respected flamenco families, who are steeped in it and continue to steep their children in it. Some of these children are students of Ani, and danced that night. In the audience are grandmothers and friends and cousins of everybody, and the family of Dolores Agujetas helping out with recording everything. This is something that I think does not exist in any other place. There are only a few extranjeros (people like me), surrounded by genuine Jerezanos with flamenco in their blood, just doing their thing, in their community, in the place where they grew up. In Seville it is the opposite way around, and the former communities where the gitanos once lived are no longer.


I went to practice the night before. It was the children's practice time - I could not come during the adult extranjeros time. While I waited, I went into the practice room with my friend Kim and a couple of little girls, probably about 7 years old. One of them is the daughter of a singer from a renowned family and the other was the daughter of a local girl who dances, presumably of gitano background. The girls took control. Their confidence was frightening. They were polite and nice to us, as if they were adults. They did palmas for us and told us we danced well. We did palmas for them. And what palmas they did! I have no idea how a child of that age, with tiny hands could make a sound so loud, so secure and so consistent. And their dancing and compas (rhythm) was so secure... they knew what they were doing better than 90% of adult foreigners. One of the girls had an attitude of utter fearless confidence of the kind that is unnerving, but I think natural for her. I think she could kick anyone's butt that got in her way.

My teachers.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z4GJoPHj-Qw

With their children's group. Ana Maria (Ani) comes out first. Then Carmen. Ani is the woman who teaches the best bulerias class in the world. One could argue that, but bulerias are originally from Jerez, and she teaches the best class in Jerez. (One which is as much like a genuine party as any class could be. After all, bulerias are a party. Complete with drinking and smoking, people interrupting to complain about stuff, to discuss deep philosophical questions... whatever. And the class starts about 15 minutes to half an hour late and finishes the same amount late).

This is our Carmen. Carmen is the best flamenco dancer anywhere. I don't care that there are many others in Spain who are technically more advanced. Most of them are just technique showoffs with a serious face - like classical music, but even among the truly good ones... well... Nobody but nobody has the character and personality like Carmen. And flamenco is not flamenco if you are just concerned with technique. All the brilliant technical displays are boring after a while, but soul doesn't bore you.

Besides, she is sweet and down to earth and last night I watched her singing in the street with some other gitano girls after all the big shows were over. What other flamenco dancer does that?!! That's the real thing.

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

Jose Mijita Carpio sings about 3:30 and Carmen dances first. It's just a little bit, but there aren't many videos of her online. Jose is fantastic. I am a huge fan. He always sings for Carmen.

Eva Rubichi who sings first is excellent, but I don't like what she sings here.

Here is a piece of Carmen dancing again.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?NR=1&feature=endscreen&v=Q1T3cNlJKC8

Last night we went out with Kim, Yukie and El Zori for caracoles at a bar near the cathedral. We left just about sunset and it was a long walk cause Zori kept pausing as he talked to us. They were the best caracoles I've had, sure enough. We all ordered seconds.
Zori invited us to the Peña Buleria today and the girls couldn't go because of a previous date, but Geoffrey and I went. We got there ahead of him, though we went later than he told us. It's a little intimidating at first, cause it is open to everyone but not totally. It's hard to understand - it's a club, and the people going for lunch pay a monthly fee to belong. If we were to go all the time, we should really pay, though they are so welcoming, they tell us, "This is your house, come whenever you want". Yet at the door, they stop and ask you, "Yes, can we help you?" If you say someone has invited you then no problem. Anyways, Antonio, a gentleman who can be seen selling lottery tickets on the street, hanging out at the Tres Reyes (bar where the fishmongers and Geoffrey go), and singing Saetas during Semana Santa, comes and puts a big plate of sardines in front of us, and tells the bartender to give us some tapas of tortilla on bread, they give us tomato and tuna salad, and keep bringing more and more sardines. There are very few people today; just three tables of people, only one woman among them all. Zori arrives and doesn't recognize us, cause Geoffrey's wearing a white and magenta striped shirt, and looks like "one of us", whereas last night he had a Giri (foreigner) shirt.
I get some stories from both Antonio and Zori about their childhood growing up in the neighbourhood. These men were born here, beside other famous flamenco singers, Zori being the cousin of Paquera, and Antonio living on the same street as, and playing with various flamenco heavyweights. He said up to about 7 years old they would play stuff like marbles and whatever, in the street, but about that age, they started to rap their knuckles on the table and sing. Just hanging out in their spare time doing that, I suppose.
After someone comes by with ice cream sandwiches and we have a few more drinks and Geoffrey has even more sardines, Gasolina starts to sing. Three other guys take turns doing solea por bulerias, then Antonio starts up with some bulerias and I can hardly stay in my chair. That's what it's supposed to be like. When someone sings bulerias for real, their is so much rhythm (there is not a proper English word to describe what there is - it's called soniquete - groove would be the closest thing), well, there is so much groove, you almost automatically dance. I only need a little bit more time and to feel slightly more at home there, and I'll do it. I am almost there.
Zori is 78 and has just lost his wife. He has always loved flamenco more than any other pursuit, like work and all the duties of raising a family. Finally he can just dedicate himself to it completely. He stays out later than people our age, and is constantly partying. His nephew Jose Mendez has a lot of gigs, in Seville and abroad. Zori often joins him, and is invited up to dance bulerias for the final number, whenever he goes along. He is renowned in Jerez and somewhat in Sevilla for his "arte" (art + something else not involved in the English word art... perhaps whimsy, sense of fun, "cool", and joie de vivre all combined). His daughter calls him and tries to invite him for breakfast, for dinner, to make sure he's not alone, but he's always out with friends and admirers.
He told us his name comes from going to school on the San Telmo hill and during recess, the kids would run to catch up with the Zorrillos (sp?), a type of cart that came from Sanlucar, carrying packages. He would always be the first one to catch up to the cart and so was named Zorillo, later it got shortened.
The singing was like heaven. Not because it is a stereotypically whitewashed "heaven-y" kind of sound, but because it seems to come from deep down, with no barriers to self expression, and equally important, it comes from a certain context and is done in a certain context which infuses the singing. One where people hang out without a schedule, where time is not important, there is spaciousness - a lack of anxiety or pressure that is present in most other settings in my life but is so normal and is anyways only an undetectable undercurrent but colours everything, but is only noticeable when it's missing. They have inherited a living tradition with huge meaning and significance, and a high form of art has been of central importance in their everyday lives, all their lives, and they have shared this together for years. You feel or know all of this as you are sitting there listening to them, you hear it in their singing.