THE EXTENDED POSTCARD...or DEAR LESLIE, HOLA from SPAIN!

A FEW DAYS AGO, I SENT A POSTCARD from Seville to my dear friend Leslie, who lives in Lethbridge, Alberta. I'm not sure how long it will take for her to receive it. I do know it took the woman at the postal desk about five minutes to figure out the right postage, so maybe mail from Spain to Canada isn't that common. As there isn't a lot of room on the back of a postcard, I mentioned some of the things I've seen and done. If I'd had more room, this is what I would have told her:

DEAR LESLIE, hola from Spain! I'm having a great time here, my flamenco classes are wonderful, and I've learned a lot. I will miss Seville when we leave, but it will also be good to get back to family and friends.

A few of the highlights, so far:

1). The Shoes. Oh my god. And not just the flamenco ones, which come in every colour and style you can imagine (and yes, I did buy a new pair, in red). There are more shoe stores here than just about any other kind, the leather and suede are fantastic, but then so is the cloth, the canvas, the whatever. And so reasonably priced. I wish my feet weren't so tender - band-aids and moleskin are my friends. But I think that's why I notice the shoes here so much - because I can't wear most of them. Gold and silver lame sandals are also a thing. :-) Anyway, if you come here, save room in your luggage for shoes.

2). The weather, of course. It's mid-October. We finally had a break from the heat (simmering at around 32C+) with some rain today. The air is soft, and the cobblestones gleam in the damp. I know it's been awful back home with snow in Alberta (unless you're a skier, then it's all welcome and good). Personally, I haven't missed the snow. Although, strangely, I have missed Canada. The other day, we were in Corte Inglais, one of the major department stores here, and the muzak was playing Rocky Mountain High by John Denver (and if you want to sing along, like I did, I've included the link here. Go on. Do it. Let's love Canada together.) And even though the song is about Colorado, it brought memories of why I love Canada and the West so much, our mountains, our wilderness, the cold, fresh air - Banff, Jasper, the elk, the goats, the ravens, even the bears. Seville is a such different landscape. Urban, sophisticated, colourful.

3). Which is also why I love Seville. The weather makes it so people friendly here. Everybody lives in apartments, so the plazas and parks are a living, social space. It's great to sit in a square, drink a Sangria, eat a tapa or two, and watch the rest of the world at play. Siesta is still in place, so you need to adapt to that, change your lifestyle to match it. But I like seeing a whole family (including the dog) hanging out in the plazas, eating, talking, playing, even sleeping. (I refer to the little kids here, who might still be out with their parents at 11:00 at night, asleep in their strollers. Babysitters? Who needs babysitters when you have the whole family enjoying a cerveza or two at El Tremendo?)

4). Colour: the one thing I hate about Edmonton is its lack of imagination (mostly) with colour. In my neighborhood, every house is beige, or white, or cream, or pale blue - winter colours and boring. Ditto with clothing choices - we all wear black, or brown, or grey, with an occasional flash of red or blue (and yes, I'm as guilty as anyone. Black seems to be the go-to colour in my wardrobe). Here, mustard yellow is the top choice for clothing and apartment trim, with raw sienna, yellow ochre, cream, and olive green as secondary favourites. All summer colours. Here, the women wear fabrics that flow, float, and drape, while they guys tend to be hip in torn jeans, shirts, and scarves. They have a term for how people dress here: - it's 'pijo' and means 'posh'. If and when I come back to Sevilla (and I pray I do), I'm packing sun dresses and skirts and sandals. We've been here for six weeks now; I packed three pairs of jeans and only wore jeans twice, having to make do with my ugly shorts or yoga pants. And my ugly, black sneakers, too. Mike likes to wear his La Giralda t-shirt he bought in a souvenir shop. Gee, how is it everyone knows we're tourists???

5). Flamenco, naturally: It's everywhere, and it's wonderful. I've seen some great shows with some amazing performers, not the least of whom is my bulerias teacher Ramon Martinez. Yesterday, as I was walking down the Almirante Apodaca, the main street near our place, a taxi was stopped at a red light. The driver was listening to a bulerias, which was blaring from his window. His hands were clapping the compas (the time) as he waited for the light to change.

I could go on and on, Leslie. You would love Seville - the city, its sites, the Catedral, the museums, the flamenco tablaos, and the people - everyone we've met has been kind and friendly, considerate and helpful. If you know some Spanish, a little goes a long way. Being the typical Canadian, I start most of  my conversations with an apology - Lo siento, soy Canadiense. Mi espanol no es muy bueno, (I'm sorry. I'm Canadian. My Spanish isn't very good) and people will smile, and often tell me their English isn't very good either, but not to fret. Don't you worry, little Canadian. We Spaniards will make it work. We will help you. We'll get along, just fine.

Signing off for now, Leslie. I hope life is good with you! Say 'hi' to Megan and Cat for me! Besos y brazos! See you soon!

- Susan.

IS IT LUCK, OR SOMETHING MORE?

La Metropol Parasol or 'Las Setas'

THE PICTURE ON THE LEFT IS OF SEVILLA'S METROPOL PARASOL, or as it's colloquially known, Las Setas (the Mushrooms). Mostly made of reinforced birch wood, it swoops over the Almirante Apodaca, a major street which I walk along nearly every day. Whenever I do, I'm reminded of how incredibly lucky I am to be here in Seville, studying flamenco with a world class instructor and enjoying the city itself.

I am lucky. But is luck all there is to it?

I debated posting this post. Nearly talked myself out of it, but I'm going to anyway, because the point of writing blog posts is to offer something of interest to your readers, and maybe even some help. I'm going to tell you what I think, and depending on who you are and what your experiences have been, you'll either agree with me, allow for the possibility, or dismiss what I say because it's too 'woo woo'. I read some stats recently, about belief. Those of you who agree with me will fall into the minority, around 25 percent. 50 percent of you will say the jury's still out on whether the world of spirit exists, and the rest will negate what I say altogether. 

Am I lucky, or is it something more?  

I never expected to be here. I never expected my love for flamenco or writing to bring me the opportunities and success they have. I never thought Mike, my dear husband, would support me in either of these passions to the extent he has, and I must certainly take that into consideration. But I also feel there is a spiritual connection to the success I've enjoyed and continue to enjoy. My life has been one surprise after the other. I never expected any of these good things to happen.

That said, I did ask for them. I asked for spiritual help with both my writing career and my dance. And I've received help in spades. 

Who has helped me? Well, that is the question. I think we go on existing after we die. I think death is a transition to a bigger reality than what we know now, a bigger, broader experience. I also think once we pass, we can help those of us who are still in physical form.

I'll tell you a funny story. It's funny because it could be my imagination, and I'll allow for that. Years ago, when I was just starting to dance and struggling with it (but then, flamenco is always a struggle, because you're always reaching for the next level), I asked Antonio Gades to help me grow. Antonio Gades, one of the top maestros in the flamenco world and known internationally. He had passed away a few years earlier, in July, 2004. I was having a small hissy-fit over my lack of ability as a dancer, frustrated because it wasn't happening quickly enough, so I looked up into the air and hailed him like you might yell at an actor from the audience: I really want to dance, Antonio! I need to! I love it so much! Can you help me? (I smile as I write this. I wasn't completely serious when I put the question to him. I was feeling very passionate and emotional and upset about the whole thing). As soon as I finished my heart-felt plea to Antonio, an answer popped into my head. It was this: Do you practice?

I was completely taken aback. I hadn't been practising. Not really, other than mucking about for an hour or two before a student show, and certainly not on a daily basis. What I 'heard' was  exactly what I needed to do. 

I still don't know for certain if this was a real response or my imagination working overtime. I've decided it was real. I felt a bit silly that I should bother such a great maestro, when the answer to my desire was so patently obvious. (And this is why I still like to refer to him as Saint Antonio. Because maybe he is.)

Anyway, all I'm saying is, if you have any faith in the world of spirit at all, and you're in earnest over something you want, or want to do, maybe ask for help. See what happens. You just might get what you need. The luck you reap may be more than you know

Until next time, olé!

- Susan.  

MONDAY to FRIDAY, THE DANCE WEEK

A tile display, outside one of the bars in Seville

IT'S FRIDAY AFTERNOON AS I WRITE THIS, and it's been a good dance week. It didn't particularly start off that way. This is how it went:

Day One (morning): great bulerias class with Ramon. First tangos class this afternoon at 4:00 with Joaquin Grilo. I wonder what it will be like?
Day One (afternoon): Oh my god. I am in over my head with this tangos class. Everything is going by in a blur. This was supposed to be 'basico/medio' which I took to mean basic to intermediate (or beginner+) level. Did someone not send Grilo the memo? This was supposed to be easy. I'll decide after tomorrow if I'm going on Wednesday. AND NO WAY AM I STANDING IN FRONT AGAIN! That was downright embarrassing.

Day Two (morning): another great class with Ramon. The bulerias is challenging, but I feel as if I'm getting it. Lots of chances to 'tweak' where I have to.
Day Two (afternoon): Okay...I'm still missing some of the steps because it's going by so fast, but Grilo went over yesterday's choreo, and I'm basically getting it. Who knew my feet could move that fast? Nobody told me. Will definitely go tomorrow. Tried to take a spot in the back row, AND EVERYBODY WANTS TO STAND IN THE BACK ROW!!! Forced to remain in the front! Grrr!

Day Three (morning): I think I've developed a new blister on my little toe. Notice lots of other girls are sporting band-aids on theirs. Still love Ramon's class, and it's still challenging. I'm finally getting that remate.
Day Three (afternoon): More choreo, still waving my arms about like a gorilla, but AT LEAST I'M IN THE BACK ROW!

Day Four (morning): The dreaded bulerias 'circle' in Ramon's class, where we dance solo, but I did all right. Go me. :-)
Day four (afternoon): Where the hell was my head? I should have practised the choreo, but there were some new cool moves. The annoying girl who kept cutting me off from the mirror yesterday is actually a REALLY GOOD DANCER. I took Jane's advice and managed to get a video of us dancing, so now I have it and I can take it home to finally get those pieces I am missing. Really like Grilo - he has an awesome style.

Day Five (morning): Ramon divided the class in half and let us take a video of each other. It's so great to have a record to recall later. Apparently, his class in October is designated 'medio' or intermediate instead of  'all levels' so I may have to up my game. On the other hand, one of his longer term students told me it shouldn't change too much, so that's good to know. Mind you, she told me in Spanish, and I may have missed her meaning. Whatever...
Day Five (afternoon): Didn't go to Grilo's class, as we are going out tonight to see Ramon dance in his show at La Casa del Flamenco. I didn't want to look like a drowned flamenco rat from the week (had to do my hair and get cleaned up. And yes, I can guess what you're thinking - she pooped out. Give me a break. I've been dancing all week in 32+ C weather, both morning and afternoon.) Plus I have the video, and it will be practice, practice, practice until I perfect it. This tangos was the first exposure I've had to fast footwork for the majority of the dance and to mark the time. In other words, the taconeo was the marking. Very cool to be pushed (kicking and screaming) to the next level. :-) (And yes, I'm joking.)

I still love being here. I've definitely entered new flamenco territory. Must keep it up, once I'm back.

Ole!

WHO NEEDS A DRYER WHEN YOU HAVE CLOTHES PINS?

LIKE THE TITLE SAYS, WHO NEEDS A DRYER, WHEN YOU HAVE A BALCONY AND CLOTHES PINS? For some reason. I find hanging my laundry from a cord that I've tied to each end of my tiny balcony, very satisfying. And I have neon clothes pins, which are cool, because they appeal to the little kid in me. Colours! Sky blue, neon green, hot pink and yellow. I had the same thrill from coloured pencils in a new pencil box when I was eight. (Which is probably why I like soft pastels to do some art when I find the time.)  I suspect hanging my laundry reminds me of my childhood, when my mother used to hang our laundry on our clothesline in the back yard, and everything froze into place in January. I still remember sheets hanging like plates of shaved ice and towels at attention like rectangular flags. They had a solidity to them that meant Canada, and January, and playing outside making snowmen, and home.

Of course, there's no snow here. There hasn't been any rain either. If you've been watching the Spanish news, you'll know the rest of the country has suffered. It's 30 degrees and things are dry in an hour instead of taking all day. But I do love hanging my laundry. If truth be told, I was a bit worried about not having a dryer when we moved here. But no hay problema.

On the other hand, maybe we're just the dumb Canucks of the neighborhood, hanging our laundry across our balcony. Nobody else seems to do that, and we do have a clothesline on the roof of our building. (We went up there to do our sheets, and the sun nearly blinded me. It was so bright it gave me a headache.) But the balcony is so convenient. And we don't do a lot of laundry.

The other great thing here is the groceries. The major supermarkets in Sevilla put ours to shame. There's so much to choose from in terms of cheeses, meats (can you say 20 different kinds of jamon?) and produce, some of which I've never seen. The fish is fantastic. All fresh, and the flavours are amazing. AND THE WINE. We bought a respectable bottle of chardonnay for one and a half Euros (or about $2.25 Canadian). The stuff was on sale for 70% off. We plan to go back and stock up. :-)

I've also discovered the delights of salmoreo, which is like a gazpacho but much creamier and smoother. We ordered some the other night, thinking it was a salmon thingee. (I know, don't laugh. We're learning.) It turned out to be this fantastic cold tomato soup, served with bits of shaved ham and cheese. We loved it. So when we saw it in the store at Corte Inglais, we bought it. I never thought I'd be an afficionada of cold soup, but in hot weather, there's nothing better.

What else? We walked around today, trying to find Mike a pair of summer shorts, and nada. The stores are already displaying fall fashions. Also, 5:00 p.m. is about the perfect time for a sangria. :-)

More mañana. Olé! - Susan.

SEVILLA LIFE

 AS YOU MIGHT EXPECT, LIFE IS A LITTLE DIFFERENT IN SEVILLA...especially for a Canadian who's used to driving to the store for groceries, to dance classes, or to just about anywhere. Here, we walk, and it's a much healthier and amenable lifestyle. The street I've portrayed here is typical of our neighbourhood in Santa Catalina and of Seville in general. Surprisingly, I don't feel hemmed in or crowded. These narrow alleys are homey and quite comforting. People are nearby. You can hear them chatting (or arguing) from their windows. You might pass one of two of them as you make your way down the street. Bars and restaurants are tucked everywhere - on the main roads and in alleys such as this.

We're getting used to the siesta, and the opening and closing times of stores, restaurants, and bars. We tend to buy groceries about every day - our apartment is small, and we don't have much in the way of storage, so shopping has become part of our daily schedule. Today, being Sunday, we went for a stroll down to the La Alameda de Hercules and found Sevillanos enjoying the sun beneath umbrellas along its length. There were people dancing Sevillanas, blasting over loud-speakers at one end, and a small set-up of kiddie rides for los niños. We stopped for a sangria, and then checked out the outdoor flea market, figuring we'd have time to pick up groceries for Sunday's dinner.

Nada. The local grocery was closed, so we headed for Sierpes, a major road and tourist destination. Bets were off if we'd actually eat. It was possible that we'd have eggs and lemon-aid for supper, but luckily there were still restaurants open, catering to tourists. We ended up at Don Carlos. The food was great.

The local bars keep odd hours. One, that's just down the street from us, caters to the local machos. I've never seen a woman in there. There's some guy who 'howls' around closing time around 2:00 a.m. I guess he isn't happy with having to stumble home. Luckily, he doesn't carry on for too long. We've taken to calling him our local howler.

There also seems to be an etiquette to not looking up at people if they're on their balconies. We use our tiny balcony to drink wine and eat tapas (there's just room for the two of us, two chairs and a table), or to hang our laundry. Whenever I'm out there and someone is passing beneath, they never look up. Ditto when someone is on a higher balcony than ours. They never look down. I suppose in a place that's as populated as this, social niceties are meant to be followed.

People dress really well here. The women are often in dresses and skirts, cool pantsuits and great shoes. You won't find anybody in sweat pants or ratty t-shirts here.

Dance is going well. I look forward to my class tomorrow morning. Such a difference from a week ago, where I was facing my first class with trepidation.

The weather's been great. I'm really enjoying the extended summer. The nights are soft, warm, and sultry. I love Sevilla. Feel so lucky to be here.

Until mañana, , olé! - Susan.