September 3, 2000

Our plane from Paris was an hour late coming into Sevilla but the trip was smooth. Carlos and Susa both came to greet us, two beautiful dark gypsies, arms outstretched to embrace us. Susa in her long black skirt matching her long black hair looked beautiful. She had not called Carlos Herredia, Freddie’s guitar teacher, as we had asked by fax when she wrote that she had no car to use, so she worried that no one would come, and so at the last minute she borrowed her neighbor’s small car so that she could meet us at the airport. Carlos, his straight black hair now long enough to be tied in a low pony tail half way down his back, had come at 10:30 in the morning to wait for our 11:30 plane, so he had waited two hours because of our delay. But they were both glad to see us. Then Susa left and Carlos drove us to La Carboneria in his big car and helped lug our many suitcases up the steep stairs to our old room on the third floor. We arrive. It is hot. The young couple who have been living in our room for quite some time is just moving downstairs to Luis’ old room. How they must hate it, leaving that light airy private room for a dark windowless room with only a curtain for a door. They now share the second floor with Paco and his other guests. They still have to clean our room and move a few more things. A scrawny Siamese kitten yowls. The displaced couple found the tiny white kitten on the street and have adopted it. It’s cat box, water and food are still in our room. Paco is at the Alta Mira having breakfast we are told. We find out later that the Alta Mira has changed its name to Carmela but everyone still refers to it as the Alta Mira. We unpack the guitar case we have brought for Carlos and give it to him along with the nail powders and glue, the blood pressure machine for his mother, the migraine oils for Pili his wife, the toys for his daughters and the musical teether for his newest daughter, two month old Carmen.

We decide to join Paco at Alta Mira (now Carmela) but he has just returned so we invite him back and we all leave to go for coffee. Kalina, the Bulgarian Flamenco dancer we met last year is still working there and we see her there today. It almost feels as if we have never left. When we return Paco calls Concha and I talk to her. I will take her palmas class tomorrow evening.

Finally we start to settle in and begin to unpack and I find that my computer doesn’t work. It seems to be a software conflicting problem. I re-installed the system and it still didn’t work. I had already run Norton Utilities and Disk doctor. Finally in frustration I started up from my Jazz drive and it seems to be working.

The old church bell clangs. It is eight o’clock in the evening. How familiar it all is. And the cat box has been moved!

September 6, 2000

It sure is hard to find time to write.

We went to the first “actuacion” of the month long Flamenco Bienal tonight and it was only so so until El Mimbre danced and the show came alive and we woke up. This first show of the Bienal was packed with people who had come early to get a good seat. Many of the shows, like this one, have open seating, so the line to get in grows early and stretches for what seem like miles. On the way there, hurrying through a pile of fine, hard sand from the concrete construction they’re doing on the sidewalk, I developed blisters on tops of both my feet. The sand rubbed under the tops of my sandals and by the time we arrived at the mile long line, no more than five or ten minutes at the most, the tops of my feet had blistered severely. I had to borrow Freddie’s socks to walk home because I couldn’t wear my sandals. My blisters were too raw and open. Tonight I’ve put vinegar and lemon on them and washed them with Paco’s aloe shampoo. Vinegar and lemon mixed in equal parts is Fredd ie’s old guitarist remedy for quickly drying up blisters on guitarist’s fingers. Freddie has had me try it before on my toes and it always seems to work. I’ll try adding lavender oil soon. It’s already four minutes to three AM and I am tired but I wanted to write at least something. I had a two hour private class with Concha today and it was good. Then we and Freddie of course too went out to Casa Diego, where Concha and I ate yesterday with Paco, Paco’s daughter Lidia and his homeopathic naturopath doctor friend, Jesus. Everyone remembers us and its like coming home. We haven’t been away so long that we’re forgotten. Not only the people at the Carboneria and the people we met through Paco and Luis remember us, but even the shopkeepers and the shoe shine man Julien, whom we befriended last year are overjoyed to welcome us back. Concha loved the dark pink lace beaded mantoncita I brought her. She wants to wear it in the Bienal but I warned her that the heavy beads would swing and hit her when she turned suddenly, which she would do - it’s happened to me with that type of scarf. So she will wear it for show instead of in the show. Her photo, taken by Paco’s son Sergio, is the entire cover of the culture guide El Giraldillo featuring the Bienal del 2000. I am glad for her. She is the most marvelous teacher. And her classes are so much fun. I find myself laughing and pleased with the great rhythmical patterns I am already mastering both in the dance and with my palmas. I have taken Concha’s palmas group class and she is now working with palmas in my private class too. But these palmas classes are like nothing I have ever experienced. They’re difficult counter rhythms that bring a snap and a strength —a sense of excitement into the palmas, into the music. It’s now a challenge to find the time to practice. I have moved my dance class to four PM and am only doing one one hour class a day, probably during all the Bienal. I will practice in the morning before breakfast, unless I have to go our to get bandaids for my large, raw open blisters ruining the tops of my feet. I now have lavender oil on them and it’s almost 3:30 AM. Freddie, who was discouraged, is practicing and he sounds great. He is getting things he didn’t have before. I love listening to him and writing even though I know I should go to bed so I can get up in the morning to practice, buy a phone, and bandaids and some salve for my feet. We also need dish soap, a bucket, a scrubber —We seem to have even less time than I remembered from before. But I am practicing my Spanish hanging out with Concha, and with Susa the other day, and with Paco —all people I care about. We also spent some time with Nacha and Jose Luis for an evening at the Alta Mira-now-Carmela before they left for the beach again for eleven days. Nacha looks happy and very together with Jose Luis. She has gained a little weight and it looks good on her. Jose Luis has all his weight still and looks just the same. He talks a lot but it is almost always very interesting. It’s just that he doesn’t pause for much breath and my comprehension is not quite that fast over that much of a period of time. I can get a few sentences but then my mind has to think about it for a minute. But it is improving since the last time I wrote. So time is spent with friends in Spanish style, and at night we always watch at least one of Carlos, Henrique and Inma’s shows. The Italian violinist, Alexi who now lives with his American girlfriend Elizabet in Luis’ old room, plays with them too and he is good. People still talk about the short little buleras I did with them on Sunday night, the first night I arrived. A lot of people saw it and liked it. The support I get here from everyone is so encouraging. It helps me focus on practicing. Last night I stayed up until past 3 AM watching the videos of my classes and figuring out how to do the palmas Concha showed me. I was able to do all of it today but I haven’t watched the tapes of today yet because of the Bienal. I will do that in the morning because I can’t remember what I learned today —because I hung out with Concha instead of going upstairs to watch the video. And because I was exhausted, I took a short nap when I did go up and then got up and had to go to the phone store to find out that we didn’t have a pin number now for Concha’s phone so it would cost almost as much to replace the card as to buy a new one. So now I still have to buy a “movi” (mobile) phone. I watched some of the tape of Concha’s class and then had to get ready to go to the Bienal. I’m not complaining. I wouldn’t have it any other way. I would just have longer days …. but of course I will figure it out. I managed last time. We saw Bobby Markowitz (a friend from Soquel) last night. He is doing great. He has just moved here from several months of living in Jerez. He has learned that wonderful heavy Jerez comps, similar to Concha’s Lebrija style. He also learned a little gypsy buleras dance too and it looked great. He says he would like to move here. We’ve never seen him so enthusiastic and happy. Bobby’s guitar playing has grown by leaps and bounds. We all wished that Bobby’s son Adam, a talented young Flamenco guitarist, would come to Spain to visit. He would be very proud of his Dad. Being here for a while really helps Flamenco. I wonder how we could stay here longer next time. Which months would we choose? Two months seems short now that we’re here.

September 6, 2000

The cante tonight, the second night of the Bienal, was wonderful. Chocolate, now with gray hair, was wonderfully moving. And I loved his guitarist, Antonio Carrin. We also heard Mayte Martin who was good and so was El Pele. Tonight’s show was much better than last night. There was one dancer who was technically very good but I wasn’t moved. But what moved me today was Concha’s generosity and friendship. I took class in my old sandals with my blisters bandaged up. Concha was very caring, telling me I didn’t have to take class and to tell her immediately if my feet hurt. After class she asked me if I had brought my shoes like hers that I bought last year. They have a strap across the big toe and one across the top of the arch, so most of my blisters would not be in contact with my shoes, so they wouldn’t rub at all. I told her no, that my suitcase had been too full, but I had thought about bringing them but didn’t because I was trying not to take too much. Our rhinestone shoes. The arch straps have large rhinestones banding them and a single large rhinestone sits on top of the toe strap. Mine are purple with silver and Concha’s, a size or two bigger than mine, are black and silver. I tried on Concha’s and she said I could wear them to the Bienal. I asked her what she would wear home and she said, “I’ll just take a taxi.” So I wore Concha’s shoes tonight. I walked to the Alcazar patio, which is on one side of the Giralda. I believe it was a copy of the Alhambra, or done by the same architects, I can’t remember the story. But it has the feel of a small Alhambra, with ornately carved designs on the white plaster walls, lush gardens, and tall arched Moorish windows. That is what we see when seated in the Patio for the concert. Inside, I know, are more treasures of Arabic art and design. But from the patio, the Giralda rises behind us like a guardian or a companion, a presence felt. A beautiful beautiful place for a concert. A beautiful place to walk to and from, once again through the narrow winding streets of the Barrio Santa Cruz to La Carboneria at 18 Levies street. So today ended up being a good day. But I started it in a foul mood because I couldn’t wear my dance shoes; I was tired and upset and very frustrated. But I guess things changed during my class. I felt al lot better after class. But, still discouraged by the state of my feet, I decided to skip the group palmas class and I went instead to the electrical store for more plugs and to the camera store for another smaller mount so we don’t have to continually unscrew them when we change cameras on the tripod, which is at least several times a day. We are both videoing lessons, but luckily we have our own cameras and can watch our own lessons at the same time if we want. The camera store didn’t have what I needed and told me to bring my camera or tripod to the Corte Ingles, the famous big department store but I didn’t have time. And, I haven’t done that yet today. I turned on the computer instead and wrote this. I didn’t even hook up the video camera to it like I did the other day when I was trying to remember the palmas we did. That had helped and it was nice to see my class on a bigger screen with better sound. I have finally figured out how to hook up the sound, something that I hadn’t yet mastered last year. We still don’t have e-mail yet because the phone line hasn’t been brought back up here again. And I know that will take even more time when I get it, but it’s also nice to be in contact with friends who aren’t here. We do have friends here too though and it’s fun. It’s now two AM, earlier than when I thought about going to bed yesterday, but I have to get to bed earlier so I can practice in the morning. I didn’t make it to the dance floor this morning but I watched both my tapes of the last classes, fast forwarding through the parts of me trying to do what Concha showed me, for lack of time. So I did do something. But tomorrow I want to increase that. I am walking in Concha’s shoes, whatever that may mean.

September 7, 2000

I practiced this morning, but carefully and for only an hour in shoes because of my feet. And a lot of my practice was palmas but with the use of my foot too. It felt good but I sure have a lot of work to do, things to learn, steps to do much much faster. But the challenge is good for me and I will do it. My blisters are a little better today. I wore Concha’s shoes again to the Bienal which was spectacular tonight. For the third and last time this Bienal, the show was in the Alcazar patio. We saw (and heard) La Paquera, an incredible and powerful gypsy woman singer in her 60’s or 70’s. That’s when I remembered what really good Flamenco is. It moves me in my gut and my soul in a way that nothing else does. Maybe that’s why we become Flamenco addicts. La Paquera’s performance tonight was what we wait for in Flamenco. It was that special. And my whole body had to react to it. The Familia Montoya, whom I saw in 1980 here in Spain, also performed tonight. Carmelilla Montoya at the end of the show did an incredible dance. She and La Paquera were certainly the stars for me. All the guitarists and palmeros were good too. And the singer Jose Manese was also good but La Paquera and Carmelilla made the night. That was Flamenco. People in the audience who have been there every night are starting to look familiar. We talked with a dancer we know from Los Angeles, Juan Talavera and his two women friends today when they came to the Carboneria to watch Concha’s class that I had told them about yesterday. They loved it and have arranged a semi-private for themselves. They too went to the Bienal tonight. Arturo, a Flamenco guitarist who says that Freddie is famous, is here from New York. We saw Virginia Iglesias as we left the Bienal tonight who said that Patrice Thompson is also here with her husband and two sons. Sevilla is filled with American and Japanese Flamenco addicts, as well as addicts from other countries, all here in addition to the normal tourists, to attend the Bienal. Tomorrow we have a night off and will visit Susa at nine at night. She says she has a special wedding present to give us. We got our e-mail phone connection hooked up today. Alexi, Paco and Freddie strung the line up from Paco’s room over the roof and in through the window above and to the right of my computer. I had 43 e-mails today, although some were junk mail. Some were messages that I had to answer. But it was nice to be connected again.

It’s two thirty in the morning already so I had better stop writing and think about sleeping. Right now I am excited and happy and I don’t want to go to bed. I just know that I want to get up in the morning and practice again like I did today. I am still working on a counter time palmas pattern for my Alegras. Concha says if I don’t get it it doesn’t matter, I don’t need to start with that. But I have two months and I am determined to get it. I kind of know it now, but have to get it perfect every time and then increase the speed. I love it and I want it and I will learn it.

September 9, 2000

We finally have our movi telephone today. The number is 011-34- 686752918. I bought it at Corte Ingles when Concha and I stopped in there after looking at an apartment nearby for Rubina to rent.

September 11, 2000

Last night we saw Juana Amaya & Terremoto in a Flamenco version of Medea at the Maestranza theater. It was great. Even the theater was beautiful and elegant and all the performers were magnificent.

September 15, 2000

Yes, it is hard to write this trip, perhaps because the Bienal adds more to do. But I must write of this. The day before yesterday in my class with Concha I sang “Pepito toca me el bas” for her , a song by Manuel de Paula which Concha had taught me the year before. She was impressed that I had remembered it and she had me sing it again and then again several times in the group Palmas class. She was so happy that my comps was right on. Then yesterday, she introduced one of the spectators watching the Solea class. He was Manuel de Paula. I was watching the class too, waiting for the Palmas class which was to come next. Freddie was one of the four guitarists playing for the class. Concha wanted Manuel de Paula, a famous singer, to sing but he wouldn’t so she sang for her class, as she often does, so we can learn to dance to the cante. Then she asked me to sing Pepito so I did, cold. I sang for Manuel de Paula and he loved it!!!! My thought, “sin verguenza” which means “without shame” crept into my mind after I sang. But I remembered the repeated advice of my old Flamenco teacher, Anzonini, a charismatic gypsy singer from Puerta Santa Maria who lived in Berkeley for a few years during the late 1970’s. Anzonini used to always tell us to leave our shame outside at the door so I left my shame outside and it felt good. I am not a “singer” and never will be as I am not a Spanish Gypsy and never will be. So I just sang what I had learned from Concha, in perfect comps, being who I am, an American dancer who loves Flamenco, with nothing to prove. It felt great! Last night, at the Bienal, we heard Rancompino, an incredible singer. The show started at midnight and ended at 2:45 AM and was totally worth the effort. His singing is incredible. I want to buy his CD’s now. Tonight we have another midnight show and then again tomorrow, Concha’s show, the Great Families of Utrera and Lebrija. Miguel Funi will be in that one too. David Serva (Jones) was supposed to play in it for Miguel Funi but he broke his wrist a few weeks ago while he was in the U.S. and won’t be able to play guitar for a while. We don’t know the final prognosis, but last time we talked with him he still had metal pins in his wrist and the break was bad. Hopefully he will heal fully and be back at the guitar soon. It is still very hot and humid in Spain, but at night the breeze is cooler and it is not as bad as summer. But it is hot enough so you don’t even think of taking a sweater. Mostly we sleep with just a sheet over us if anything at all. And it is humid heat so you sweat a lot. My Alegras is coming along. It’s time to go down to the palmas class. Concha’s palmas class is incredible and I love it. And it is fun taking a group class and getting to know the other students.

September 16, 2000 Saturday

Concha’s show is tonight. Freddie has been sick with the stomach flu for days and has been sleeping all day. I drag him out at night for the show, groaning, and he seems to revive for a while. We have tried various drug store remedies. If he is not well by Monday we will go to a doctor. Last week at 4:00 AM Paco fell down a few stairs and injured his bad leg. After half an hour of bleeding (we were asleep and just heard the story) the ambulance finally arrived and he spent several days in the hospital. Between classes one day we took a taxi with Concha and another guest, from Belgium, Olivia, and visited Paco in his hospital room. Now he is staying at his son, Adan’s house and the doctor has prohibited him from going up any stairs. Sergio, Paco’s son who works here at the Carboneria, is trying to think of a way for him to stay here without having to go up stairs. It feels so empty without Paco and we really miss him.

Last night at the Bienal Flamenco show, Triana Pura, in the courtyard patio of the old Hotel Triana, the weather cooled and everybody froze. Hardly anyone had brought sweaters, and most of the women wore sleeveless, low cut fancy dresses for this wonderful concert of generations of Triana gypsies. Today there is a breeze cutting through the humid heat, but I sweated, dripping, through my whole class with Concha. And I had forgotten my towel. However, my Alegras is coming along well. In less than two weeks I have learned most of it. Concha’s thirteen year old son Curro played for my class because Freddie is still too sick. Curro is learning and does not know how to play all of the Alegras so we do the escobilla (foot work) to Solea. He is a handsome kid who has the same olive skinned round face and dark eyes and hair as his younger sister Carmen and his mother Concha. We are all learning, and his mother tells him what she wants played for which step and when to stop and how to strum. He is friendly and Freddie and I both like him a lot. The other day, when Freddie played with him and others for the Solea class, he and Freddie fooled around with the guitars after the class. They both enjoyed that and are developing their own relationship. It is a pleasure to see the parent child relationship in Spain. The parents are so supportive and encouraging and in turn, the children enjoy learning and hanging out with their parents. Concha sings to Curro in class. A lot of the flamenco lyrics talk about my child, Curro (or other names) and it is wonderful to see that relationship for real as Concha sings it to him. It has real meaning then. Paco just bought Curro a good guitar and Curro seems to be playing it constantly.

A lot of Flamencos from the Bay area are here for the Bienal and it is funny running into so many Americans we know. Bobby is here, as I wrote before, and looks absolutely great. He has a beautiful girlfriend and we’ve never seen him happier. My Spanish has returned and it is now better than before. I am starting to understand most of what people say when they speak normally fast, which is very very fast.

The list of Bay Area Flamencos is like a who’s who of Flamenco. Kenny Parker was here today in the Carboneria giving me advice on restaurants. Rubina came in the other day and now has her own apartment and will stay for six months. She also has a movi. Barbara Evans has been hanging out with us. She is studying Spanish at a school here. We’ve seen also David Gutierrez and Joanna who still haven’t gotten their luggage, Patrice Thompson, Virginia Iglesias, and Monique. Juan Talavera, from Los Angeles, and his two friends, Kathy and Gloria, have taken classes from Concha. Maybe we’ll still be able to find a way to bring Concha to California.

September 18, 2000

We saw Concha’s show the night before last, the Gran Families of Utrera and Lebrija, in the Hotel Triana. It was wonderful. Bernarda de Utrera, now blind and in her seventies, sang beautifully, her voice still strong and powerful. Juan del Gastor played guitar in David Serva’s place. David and Clara were there, sitting with us in the audience. David now walks with a beautiful cane and his arm, still with some pins in it, is in a sling. Pepa de Benito sang wonderfully too. Miguel Funi danced and sang. But Concha, as the newspaper reviews said, was the Queen. She danced so beautifully. And she wore the new maroon/pink lace and beaded scarf I brought for her. She took it off when she danced the first time but wore it for a final buleras. She danced and looked like the queen she is. Afterwards Concha invited us and we all went out with the performers for “una copa”, a drink at a little restaurant near the Hotel Triana.

Last night we saw Jose Merc at the elegant Maestranza theater. Merc is a wonderful modern young singer and the audience went crazy with appreciation. They made him sing two encores. Freddie’s health is much better now. I am glad.

Yesterday before the show, I visited Paco with Rubina, Concha and Concha’s husband Rafael. Paco is doing well, temporarily living at his son Adan’s house. We watched videos of our wedding and I brought the photos too. He loved it. He recognized a lot of faces in our video of people he knew, people who had either stayed here at la Carboneria or had passed through and met him. He also was trying to remember our neighbor Johnny’s nickname, which he finally did: Johnny Basura. He thought that was funny. (Basura means garbage and Johnny loves to re-claim old garbage). Paco goes back to the hospital for an opinion on his progress today. I really miss his presence around the Carboneria.

It rained a little today and has cooled off a lot.

I was talking to Ryan tonight. He is staying in the bed that is on the opposite wall of Paco’s sitting room with the round table that people used to spend so much time sitting around. He is 29 years old, an ex-high tech worker who was turned onto Flamenco by Chris Carnes when they met in San Luis Obisbo where they were both living at the time. Ryan, then a college student, happened to visit a club where Chris was playing and Ryan fell in love with Flamenco and started studying guitar with Chris. Then Ryan went to Spain for ten months and learned Spanish. It was on that first trip that he met Paco, on Chris’ recommendation, and he has been a frequent guest of Paco’s here on the second floor of the Carboneria ever since. Ryan has lived at the Carboneria four different times, including this one. We got to talking about the Carboneria tonight, the incredible magic of it. This has been Freddie’s and my first experience of returning to the Carboneria. I never would have even thought of what that would be like. But it is as if my whole awareness has just expanded. First of all, as I may have written, many things are where we left them last year. I don’t know what I expected. I never thought about it. My shopping cart is still next to the refrigerator under our stairs. A bucket we left was still waiting for us. If I had known, I wouldn’t have given away our plates and silverware. And in the Carboneria, there is always a wealth of old furniture, much of it crumbling, stashed in back of something I had never explored before. When I need something, I start looking around the second floor for an unused but not broken item. Ryan pays attention to what is there and what is still there on his next visit. I know, from the way Paco has spoken of him, that he really likes Ryan. Ryan is the next generation Bohemian artist. He thinks of Paco like a grandfather. The Bohemian artist is what Paco attracts to himself, those are the people he invites into his home, the wooden second floor of the Carboneria. Each person who is Paco’s guest most likely has something special to add. Most are artists of some sort, dancers, musicians, painters. Sometimes Paco’s naturopath doctor friend stays for a few days. Sometimes Flamenco aficionados (people who love and are addicted to Flamenco) pass through, like Olivia from Belgium. She is in love with the Flamenco cante (song). Those who stay here are people from all over the world, a mixture of cultures and music. I feel honored to be among the distinguished list of Paco’s guests. The magic of that large attic room, the second floor, to which you emerge into from the trap door at the top of the steep stairs, the deep magic of that room seeps into you slowly, bit by bit. I have just realized that, as I return to this temple of artists. On this floor, suddenly you are out of the public and into the upper world of Paco’s home, his private space. I know I have tried to describe it before, but I don’t know if I will be redundant here or will be able to enlarge the picture, to define more detail of the canvas of Paco’s home. To the right, where Olivia stayed, is a bed and a window to the street. The slant of the attic keeps it dark in that corner, in spite of the big rectangular window where Paco keeps many large plants. Paco loves plants, and as I have said, his patio down stairs is filled with plants of all sorts, from banana trees and trees in barrels to vines climbing around the walls, as Freddie says, “vines making a green tapestry on the white walls and overhead clinging from tree to tree to make shade”. The magic of the second floor is subtle but strong. Sometimes people make small changes. A table is moved. A bed changes position. A curtain is added. But still many paintings adorn the walls and many more are stacked next to walls, behind chairs and tables. When did Paco collect all this? From who? For what? Is it still continuing? The blue and yellow soap dish I bought for the bathroom is no longer there, but an ugly white one has replaced it. But it’s better than the round white saucer I replaced with the pretty soap dish from Isla Cristina. Mine probably broke. The light bulb over the sink is back. Ryan has slept in every bed but one here at the Carboneria. The view from each one is different, the feeling different, he says. It is interesting. If I were young and single that would sound nice. But as a newly married woman in my fifties, I am glad that we again have this room and the third floor. We need this privacy, a place where Freddie can practice as long as he wants, where I can dance in front of the broken mirror on the inside of the closet door, a place where it is light and airy, a place for the computer and the cameras, our high tech input into this ancient art form. Again, we are so lucky to have this luxury.

There is a nostalgic feeling here too on the second floor. Every time I look at a photo to the left of the bathroom as you enter, I see a young Paco standing with two smiling women, frozen in time in a browning black and white photo. When I see that photo that feeling of nostalgia comes to me. I become again acutely aware of the passing of time, of aging, of the cycle of life. What will happen when Paco dies? VThe unspoken question. May he live long and happily. Knock on wood, which they also say here in Spain, of course in Spanish. Paco’s fall has stirred up these feelings in many of us here, VVso many people are touched by Paco’s generosity. Not only does Paco open his place to his guests, but he always gives money to the many street performers, shoe shiners, and plain beggars who come to him for money. And many people come to Paco for money, to borrow big sums and small, and who knows what else. Everyone is always in need at some time and Paco is the benevolent lender if someone else hasn’t just gotten to him first. He has always told us to help ourselves to anything he has. That’s why we made such an effort to make sure that we could do everything we could for Paco when he came to visit. We wanted to give him some of what he gives others. So part of being here, because of Paco’s assorted collection of things combined with his generosity, is scrounging around for unused treasures to make our room more comfortable. Ryan does that too and I imagine many others have done that as well. Little environments develop here as people moves things around to meet their needs.

Chris Carnes’ spirit just came to all of us. Ryan is here in our blue trimmed white room playing guitar with Freddie and we all stopped to talk of Chris and I said I could picture him looking down on us and Ryan and Freddie both felt him in the corner. Chris, who recently died, was a good friend of Paco’s for many years. In fact, Paco came to California to visit us last fall in order to see Chris again before he died. Sergio, Paco’s son who works here, gave me a pastel drawing he had just made today of the front door of the Carboneria. He is also an excellent photographer and last year the Carboneria had many of his photos on postcards. This year the post cards are different and when I asked about it, he said, “Oh, last year’s post cards,” but of course it was in Spanish. Sergio is more friendly this year. Coming back, people come back again and again, while others only pass through once or twice. We want to be the people who come back again and again. Ryan says that each time he returns the experience deepens and it takes less time to get back into “it”.

September 19, 2000

I forgot to write last night about the French television crew who is here doing an article on Flamenco. They interviewed Concha at length after her show and then yesterday they videoed her six o’clock class and also interviewed her again. Some of what she said, about dancing the spirits of her ancestors in her dance, gave me goose pimples. She again referred to herself at the sweet panther (Pantera Dulce), a good description. She also talked about how she loses her “self” when she dances, because she is (and these are my own words interpreting her Spanish) being a channel for a great energy, the spirits of her dead ancestors. The French crew was in love with her. They wanted to take a private dance lesson today! It looks like Concha will get the kind of success she deserves, a success that is continually growing. She is very eloquent, both verbally and of course in dance. It is raining today and cooler.

September 21, 2000

I am on a good practice schedule now. I set the alarm and get up by 10 AM at the latest, get dressed, make and drink a “green drink”, get the day’s vitamins together and sometimes straighten up a little or wash the glasses. I get down to the dance floor between 10:30 and 11:00 AM and then practice until Concha’s 12 o’clock class. Then I go upstairs and get Freddie and we go out for breakfast. We return in time for my 2 o’clock class which Freddie was well enough to play for today. Then, if the 3 o’clock slot after my class is free, I practice again because there are no more free hours on the dance floor. At least this week and last week, Concha is teaching classes all the way through until eight o’clock when the Carboneria opens, although on the two days that don’t have the seven o’clock palmas class, sometimes there is an hour from seven until eight to practice if Concha hasn’t filled it with another private. Today at three I practiced with Elizabet and Rubina. Rubina sang for me and I danced my Alegras, making up what I didn’t know so it would go with her cante. It was good and it was fun. And it reminded me that I can dance. Sometimes I forget about the “dance” aspect because there is so much that I don’t know; and there is so much that I am learning right now. Today in class Concha was saying how I shouldn’t do the steps as fast as the young girls, how I can’t and neither can she, although I think she can VI’ve seen her. I felt deprived because I wanted all the footwork that everyone else in the group class has. I feel that I can do it; I still have the stamina. But I certainly can’t do it as fast as the young ones. Carlos said today that it is harder both to dance and to play guitar slow and that it was prettier that way too, done more slowly. When I watch my footwork on the video it does sound nice slow, because it is clean and it is accented. But Freddie and I are both aware that are bodies are mortal and aging and we don’t know how long they will hold out. His arm is hurting and he will probably need his rotator cuff operation after all. He is just getting over a cold after having had the stomach flu. You get sick more easily when you are 61 like Freddie instead of 21 or 31. And I am aware that I will be fifty six in a month. That sounds old. How long can this old body go on doing this kind of intense movement? I hope for a long time …. I feel that it will but my mind knows that bodies do get old and give out. And there aren’t many eighty year old flamenco dancers that I’ve ever heard about. How about being sixty in only four years? Sixty sounds old for a dancer. What about sixty five? Seventy? That’s not that far off. Elizabet, who lives on the second floor, does not have the drive to practice fanatically, the desperation to use every spare hour like I do. One, she lives here so she has time and doesn’t have to learn it in a short amount of time before she goes. And two, she is very young, in her twenties, so she has years of having a good body, years to dance and to learn. In thirty years she will be my age, so she probably has at least that much time. I have no idea how much time I have left so I feel compelled to do what I can in the time I do have left, be it a year or ten years or even fifteen (I’d be seventy one then!). Somehow fifty six, which I will be in one month, sounds a lot older than fifty five when I relate it to dance.

In her interview today with the French journalists, Concha said that she has to dance to live. What will she do when she gets too old to dance? I asked her the other day to teach me, before I go home, the buleras that the old people do, the subtle but powerful moves that even the very old gypsies seem to do masterfully. I’ve always loved that stuff, the old Flamenco that people do at home and at parties. So maybe Concha will never be too old to dance like the old people. She and I are a lot a like, although we are from totally different cultures and backgrounds. We feel the same about dance and we are both Flamenco addicts. She was born into this culture and the culture grabbed me when I was already grown. But there is that knowing between us that seems hard to describe.

Freddie is listening to Carlos on his tape doing the same thing. Carlos is just fooling around showing Freddie chord progressions and there is this beautiful, rippling music flowing out of him. Carlos. When he speaks, Carlos often accentuates what he is saying with a flow of guitar music. You can hear it on the tape. He’ll say something and then play it’s expression and then continue the conversation. I love that about him. Music is a part of him as it is of Freddie. Freddie and I are starting to talk about what we will do when he gets too old to play guitar, when his body will no longer let him play and when my body gets too old to dance. I say we could always sing. Freddie still wants to create a Flamenco school and also sponsor Flamenco artists to come to California from Spain. It is something to think about while we enjoy what are bodies can still do. Ah, mortality.

September 22, 2000

At five o’clock, starting this Monday, Concha teaches a new Buleras class which I plan to take. Then, on Mondays, Wednesday, and Fridays at seven PM is the incredible palmas class that Concha teaches and that I also have been taking in addition to my daily private classes for Alegras. On the week days Concha teaches group dance classes in Solea, Siguiriyas and Buleras at six o’clock, depending on the day. The dollar is very good right now here in Spain so it’s a good time to cash in for pesetas. You can watch any of the classes too, so sometimes I watch the Solea class which is three days a week right now. There is almost always an audience for all her classes and at least three or four guitarists for the group dance classes. When you come to the dance classes, unless you live upstairs like we do, you enter La Carboneria through a door on Cespedes Street. During the day it is usually left partially open. It is brown with green trim on the top and it has vines growing around it because Paco loves plants. It is the only door like that on Cespedes Street. There is a photo of it on our web site. You get there by walking from Calle Santa Maria La Blanca to the Hotel Fernando III (Tres). Go down that street that looks like a small alley, and La Carboneria’s back door, which opens into the patio, will be on your left shortly before you reach Calle Levies, which is where the front door of La Carboneria is. That door is red and does not have a name on it. But, it has plants hanging from the window above it, which I described when I wrote about the second floor. Across the street from the red front door is a statue imbedded in the wall about ten feet up from the street. We think it is of Saint Anthony. The saint carries a baby. La Carboneria opens at 8:00 PM. and then, when it is officially open, you go in the front door. But, during the day, while the Carboneria is not open to the public, the dance students walk through that magic back door to La Carboneria’s patio and Concha’s classes. One can hear the dancing coming from the stage in the far left corner in the covered room next to the patio. It sits on another level, about four feet higher than the other floor, so you can see it from down below as you enter. As I have said before, how lucky we are to get to experience this wonderful infusion of Flamenco right here where we live.

Concha, my incredible dance teacher, is leaving in November for three weeks to do a tour of teaching and performing in the U.S. She will be in New York, Chicago, and Albuquerque. It’s too bad we couldn’t get her to California also on that tour. But I don’t know how, so it will have to be another time. And she is going to France as soon as she gets back, to teach and perform there so she wouldn’t even have time to add California to her tour this time. I’m glad we didn’t plan to stay longer so I could study longer with Concha, because she will be away! We timed it just right! We saw Inez Bacan and Curro Malena last night at the Teatro Alameda in the Macarena district on the other side of Sevilla. The theater is small and looks sort of like a gym with bleachers, but these singers, Gypsies from Lebrija, were both great. Inez is Pedro Bacan’s sister. Pedro was a wonderful guitarist whom I mentioned in last year’s writings. He was killed in a car accident. His children and his American wife Jill still live in Sevilla, on the outskirts of Sevilla. Inez is a strong, powerful and beautiful singer. I first was aware of hearing her singing on a CD called Solera produced by Pedro, part of a set of four. Concha dances on that one too and it was one of my favorites long before I met Concha. Inez has a warm, sincere personality and was inspired when she asked if her “gente”, her “people” were here, and they yelled back yes , “e’tamo’ aqu” from the audience. And tonight we started attending the back to back shows of the bienal. At nine we went to the beautiful and ornate Lope de Vega theater for Israel Galvan’s interpretation of a Flamenco version of Metamorphosis by Kafka. It was almost three hours long but we both loved it. Some people hated it and I hadn’t expected to like it from the reports of those who went the evening before. But we had our tickets so we went and we both loved it. Jos Galvan, his wife, and his daughter Pastora danced in the first half. Israel is the son and he danced all the way through it, of course because he produced it. His style was very modern which I usually do not like, but it worked well in this production. And at intermission Jos came into the audience and was greeting and talking with the many people he knows. He remembered me and that I was from Santa Cruz. What a memory that man must have. He and Pastora both danced beautifully tonight.

When that show ended we rushed outside to find a taxi. When the second one was nabbed by people farther up the street from us, I started to panic a little so I went up to that taxi and asked the passengers if they were going to Hotel Triana. That’s where the twelve midnight show would be in fifteen minutes. They were and they let us join them in the taxi. On the way we discussed Metamorphosis with them which they thought was too long and too modern. Then we discussed some of the other Bienal shows. When we arrived a few minutes later at Hotel Triana, Freddie insisted on paying for the taxi so the couple then invited us out for a quick “copita”, a little drink. I wanted to be sure I got a good enough seat, so Freddie went to the bar for the copita with them and I went to find a seat, which was easy because our friend Laura had saved us two. Freddie arrived just in time for the show. “Jerez, Al son de Moraito”, began promptly at 12:10. Moraito is a great guitarist and he had good singers and some older ladies doing the old kind of Gypsy Flamenco dance I want to learn. Then I will still be able to dance when I get too old to do what I am doing now. My only criticism of this show is that it was too short.

Tomorrow night, Saturday, we see Manuela Carrazco dance at nine PM also at Lope de Vega and then at midnight we go back to Hotel Triana to hear Chano Lobato sing in the “Sounds of Cadiz”. What could you say “no” to? You just do it. Sunday we see Antonio el Pipa dance. We saw him several times last year and we love him. Monday we will hear Concha’s niece, Esperanza Fernandez, sing. We met her at Concha’s party last year and we also saw her perform last year. She is very popular right now and is a good singer.

September 23, 2000

A lazy Saturday. I canceled my class and am only doing laundry until it is time to go out to our two shows. We are tired and are taking our rest. Paco might be coming home in a week. Yesterday Luis and Freddie went to visit him at his son Adn’s new two story house on the outskirts of Sevilla. I talked to Paco this morning. I am getting less afraid of speaking Spanish on the phone. We really miss Paco’s presence here. Laundry still dries amazingly quickly here in the Spanish sun. I worried that the sheets would not be dry in time to make the bed before we leave, and in half an hour they are already dry, except for the corners of the bottom sheet. We hung them on lines strung on our balconies. We often sit on the larger balcony in the early evening, looking at the church across the way and looking down at the statue of Saint Anthony holding the child in the alcove in the wall. We watch the swallows as the light begins to fade and night starts to descend. This time of year the night seems to bring a coolness to the last heat of the day.

Manuela Carrazco tonight was a dancing shaman, moving energy with such skill and beauty, force and emotion. Her Siguiriya brought tears streaming down my eyes, and there were many others in the audience who also were crying. We sat in the front row center for the best show we’ve ever seen. Manuela Carrazco was magnificent.

September 30, 2000

Freddie is now on antibiotics and is feeling much better. We think he might have had pneumonia as his chest hurt and he had a deep, nagging cough and no energy. Anyway, the antibiotics made a big difference. His walk has gained momentum and is no longer as slow as dragging mud. His breathing is deeper and not painful, but he is still very tired and is sleeping a lot. I have almost finished learning the choreography of my Alegra —I just need the Silencio and then I start seriously working on the style. We have seen some wonderful shows during this Bienal —Manuela Carrazco (dance) was incredible and Antonio el Pipa (dance) was also excellent. Inez Bacan (cante) was wonderful. Curro Malena (cante) was good too. The other night we saw Jos de la Tomasa (cante) who also was wonderful. Then last night we saw Eva la Yerbabuena who danced beautifully and after that “Las Tres Mil”, which Carlos Heredia played in. Tres Mil is the name of a very large Gypsy housing project in Sevilla where Carlos lives. The show included three young little girls and another young girl all of whom sang and danced beautifully, thus assuring the audience that Flamenco will live on, at least through the next generation. It was very inspiring. The second half of the show featured the singer Juana la del Revuelo and her family. At the end, she presented her surprise guests, three little boys from the family of El Farruco, an incredible dancer who is now dead. However, his legacy lives on in his family, and these little boys were three of his grandchildren. The youngest looked about five years old. An older teen aged grandson is currently on tour with Juan del Gastor and so couldn’t join this show. But these three incredible children all danced in the style of their famous grandfather and they all danced incredibly, like little Farruco clones. At first we thought they were midgets, they danced so well, like adults. What they will do when they grow up we will see. Will they continue the Farruco tradition or will they personalize it? Will they become modern or will they continue in the old tradition? The Farruco family, “Los Farrucos” has a dance school here in Sevilla with a wonderful reputation, so hopefully this phenomenal style will live on.

I learned a lot about style from watching Eva la Yerbabuena in the “5 Mujeres 5” show we saw just before Las Tres Mil show. Eva la Yerbabuena did a Siguiriyas in which she used a lot of the steps I learned from Concha last year, but they looked very different because she had stylized the movements so that they were her own. But I recognized the steps and it is as if a light bulb came on inside me and I realized how I could start to personalize my steps at a different level.

Tonight we are playing hooky and have forfeited our tickets to the midnight Huelva show of the Bienal because we are just too tired to go out, especially outdoors that late to Hotel Triana again where it is now cold. Last night I got chilled there when we saw Las Tres Mil at midnight and today I have a sore throat and am very tired. So Freddie and I are trying to take care of ourselves and we stayed home tonight. But Luis is singing tonight downstairs with Gary Hays who is playing for him, so we will try not to miss that. At this point Luis is not a regular here so we want to get to see him now.

We just caught Luis’ second act and then saw Carlos, Inma, Enrique and Alexi do their show. It’s a good thing we took a long nap today because it’s after three AM. and we are not in bed yet. Tomorrow we plan to visit Paco again with Concha and Rubina. It is easier and easier to understand Paco on the telephone and gradually I am losing my fear of telephone conversations in Spanish.

October 1, 2000 Sunday

It is a sunny fall day outside and Freddie still sleeps a lot but I am feeling better today than yesterday. I took a day off from practicing yesterday but last night when we were downstairs waiting for Luis’ second show to begin, Carlos showed me again a bulera pattern he had showed me one day after Freddie’s class. I was able to do it last night. So even “not dancing”, I am dancing a little. I also went through my new buleras from our group class, there on the stone floor next to the bar by the stairs, while we were waiting. I haven’t decided if I will practice today, but I might if there are no unexpected surprises. We have only three more shows for the Bienal and we are glad. We are full of shows right now! Today starts the beginning of our second and last month here. Time is rushing by. We hear that it gets uncomfortably cold in the winter so we are glad that we did not plan to be here then, but still I don’t want to think about returning home. Although I love our home, I am also in love with Spain. Maybe returning twice a year will help.

At breakfast today we ran into Angela the Gypsy rosemary seller whose photo from last year is on our web site. She asked us where we had been. Again, it is as if we had never left. She only comes by on Sundays and this is the first time we have seen her since we have returned. We tried eating partridge and rice for breakfast this morning, a Sunday special at el Corbobes restaurant. It was interesting. Before we left to eat, we talked to Paco this morning and will visit him this evening. He always seems happy to hear from us.

October 2, 2000

I did practice on Sunday. No one else was downstairs and it felt very private and spacious and luxurious. I felt as if I had the whole place to myself. However, soon after I had started to warm up, the public telephone in the Carboneria started to ring. That phone is also the official phone number for the Carboneria and it is always a way to reach Concha when she is teaching. I didn’t answer it because I was enjoying my privacy and didn’t want to deal with anything else. Then my movi rang and without thinking I answered that. Rubina and Luis were at the Alta Mira and Rubina wanted to practice but they couldn’t get in to La Carboneria because nobody was there and it was all locked up. It was they who had been calling on the public pay telephone. But now I was there and I could let them in. Rubina said that they would be there in fifteen minutes, but in reality it was half an hour so I got a little more time to myself. And there went the rest of my private practice time. But, I did have an excellent practice with Rubina until it was time to stop and get ready to see Paco. We were to meet Concha at the Alta Mira at six PM. I helped Rubina learn some steps and she helped me get some of my steps in comps and also helped correct some stylistic flaws in the new movements I am learning. And it was inspiring for me to dance my Alegras to her cante (singing).

In the early evening we went to see Paco and he is more depressed than before. He is ready to come home but his leg is not fully healed and he is still forbidden to go up stairs. We talked with Adn about putting an electronic seat on the stairs or putting in an elevator. He was thinking along those lines too and will look into it, but in Spain, things move slowly, so we don’t know when that will happen. They want to fix up the office next door to La Carboneria for Paco to stay in, but he wants to be in La Carboneria itself. In addition to this situation, Adn’s wife is expecting their first child in five days. I doubt that Paco will be moved before then, but we shall see. They were cleaning his bed and his room in La Carboneria today.

Freddie’s old friend from the Renaissance Faire, Trent Anderson and his wife Joanne and their son Ross are here for a few days. They arrived yesterday and are staying at the beautiful Hotel Casa Juderia near the Alta Mira, where my sister Lainey and her husband Ken stayed last year. Martina, our friend through my cousin Rosanne’s daughter Leilani, is here for two weeks taking a Spanish course, at the same school that Barbara Evans went to. Martina is even staying with the same person, Lola, in the Macarena, that Barbara stayed with a few weeks ago. Last year, in our luxurious dance studio at our home in Soquel, Martina and Leilani both took semi-private Flamenco technique and comps lessons from Freddie and me. We had a great time teaching them and it felt good to supplement what Martina learned in the group class she was also taking in Santa Cruz with the elements we considered important to learning Flamenco. We taught the girls what we consider to be the bones of Flamenco, how to hear the music, how to recognize the different forms, how to do simple counter time, and very important, how to accentuate the accents, how to dance the accents. So Martina is now in Spain. We went to the Tres Mil performance with her and she has watched some of Concha’s classes. She was going to Cadiz yesterday. Another old friend of Freddie’s just showed up today, Grant. Grant is also a friend of Freddie’s friend Feather’s, a guest at our wedding. But Grant found out through the Flamenco grapevine that we were in Sevilla and that is how Grant found us here at La Carboneria. He and his girlfriend will watch the Buleras class tomorrow with Freddie and then they will go looking for a guitar for Feather and hopefully for Freddie too. I have to wait around for my Palmas class at seven so I won’t go with them, but maybe Carlos will. He had said he wanted to. Concha was kind enough to change our Monday comps class to Tuesday for me because the show we were going to tonight at the bienal started at seven this evening instead of at nine or midnight like the others. The show we saw tonight was a wonderful guitar performance by Nio de Pura, Manolo Franco and some excellent guitar playing friends of theirs. We almost didn’t go but luckily we did, since we had the tickets. The music was great and it was a treat. Since tonight was warm and balmy, we ate dinner afterwards at the Bacalao, sitting outside at a table on the sidewalk watching all the people walking along the big street downtown near the Corte Ingls. Then we walked up Calle (street) Cuna to Plaza Salvador and turned left, passing Bar Europa where we used to sometimes eat breakfast last year, and then we entered into the small and narrow shop lined street that opens to Plaza Alfalfa. Freddie says that on Sundays this plaza is filled with people selling birds. He went once with Luis and I think I might have mentioned it in last year’s Chronicles.

From there it is just five minutes to Santa Maria la Blanca and to la Carboneria. The walk home took less time than the taxi ride there. And now we are home relatively early with a little space to write. My dance schedule here is changing again, at least for the next three days. Some dancers from California had told Concha about four months ago that they wanted four hours a day for three days in the first week of October, but they had not confirmed it since, so she figured they had forgotten. Then they called her yesterday to say they were here so she will teach them from ten in the morning to 12 noon. Then she will teach Rubina at 12 and me at 1:00. She will teach them again for two hours in the afternoon, probably from three to five after which she teaches the group buleras class, the Solea class and then the palmas class. Or, she may start them at two, after my class and give herself a break before the group classes. I’m not sure, but I got upset when she told me today because I won’t have a practice time before class, which I need. But then Concha said I should practice on the little rickety wood platform in the front room of la Carboneria. I will. It will be better than nothing. And I didn’t learn anything new in my class today anyway, only polishing and fine tuning what I am doing. I am only missing the Silencio now in my choreography. Concha had Rubina sing in my class because Freddie didn’t play for my class. He was too busy practicing for his four o’clock class with Carlos.

And in the buleras class today we learned something I already had learned in my Alegras, so I don’t have to concentrate on anything new at least. I just have to go over what I have already learned to cement it into my memory and to make my feet and body learn to do the steps better. Concha says I have made amazing improvements even since last year. But sometimes I feel discouraged, although I can see that I am picking up steps and choreographies much much faster than I did last year. Concha is a very encouraging person and I love her more and more. David and Clara are looking for an apartment in Sevilla to live in while Clara uses her grant money here. The pins are out of David’s wrist but his wrist has restricted movement and is still quite swollen. David’s sense of humor is there, however, giving him a surprisingly positive feeling, considering the enormity of how his injured wrist will impact his life. I wanted to just mention another interesting observation I’ve made. The really moving and good dancers seem to dance “shamanically”, dance as a link to the spirit world and the physical world. You could see the energy being channeled down from above by Manuela Carrazco; Concha has spoken of how she dances the spirits of her dead relatives; of course the Gypsies would have access and familiarity with and to the world of the spirits. It’s just not spoken about a lot in California. But I am convinced that part of the art of dancing, in addition to the steps and the comps, posture and all the other technique, is that of opening as a channel to the spirits, of bringing that spirit energy into the physical reality through dance. Probably we all know this but we forget to include it in the dance lessons. We also forget, often, to include it in our own dance, we work so hard on the other aspects. But I need to remember to work with the energy more and more because I know I can do it; I already do it with my journeying and at times when I dance, but not enough yet. Dancing is magic. Dancing is a prayer. Dancing is a powerful communication, a healing. Dancing is a moving of energy. And when I forget this basic knowledge, I forget how to dance. And when I see other dancers here knowing the same, it validates my own knowing. I never expected to get filled spiritually like this here in Spain. But that spirituality is at the root of the dance.

October 6, 2000

Carlos’ baby’s baptism is this Saturday and it should be fun. It will be outside because his house is way too small for his many friends and family. He will build a fire to cook meat and a fire to warm us. He asked Freddie and me to save all of Saturday for him.

Carlos is working hard in the guitar classes with Freddie on the details of changing Freddie’s technique, figuring out why things aren’t working and then correcting them. Freddie is doing incredibly well. And, the night before last Freddie went with Carlos, David Serva (Jones), Arturo, and Grant to look for a new guitar, to continue the guitar quest started last year when I wanted to give Freddie a new guitar for his sixtieth birthday. Last year he couldn’t find a guitar he like better than the ones he already had. But this year his luck changed, and Freddie found an incredible Conde Hermanos guitar with a deep rich almost velvety sound. It is absolutely beautiful. Carlos has a Conde Hermano too. It is made by the nephews of the famous Esteso guitar maker. Esteso is dead but, like the Farrucos, his reputation and legacy live on in the younger generation. Hermanos Conde is considered to be the successor of Esteso. Freddie’s guitar was made this year, in 2000. It is the first new guitar Freddie has ever owned, and he certainly deserves it! The guitar face is spruce and the back and sides are rosewood. It has an ebony fingerboard and a mahogany neck and a rosewood bridge. This guitar is magic and very beautiful, both in looks and in sound. This is the guitar we were looking for last year and is the belated present for Freddie’s sixtieth birthday.

October 10, 2000

The day before the baptism, in Concha’s palmas class, we did tangos and rumbas. Concha had me dance, telling me to do my belly dance movements and everyone loved it. Concha told me emphatically that this is the way I should dance to these rhythms. So the next day, at Carlos’ party, the music was mostly tangos and rumbas and Pili, Carlos’ wife begged me to dance and pulled me up, so I danced, using my belly dance movements, encouraged by my experience in Concha’s class the day before. And it was perfect. I was comfortable and people liked it. It was nice to be able to participate, to be invited to participate.

The party took place in the street outside their house in Tres Mil, the gypsy housing project near the edge of Sevilla. This street, which I wrote about last year, does not have cars, but it does have a lot of foot traffic and kids (mostly) on motorcycles “motos” zooming through occasionally. Carlos had an improvised barbecue going and enough food for an army, many cuts of pork, jamon serrano and other choice Spanish cold cuts, olives, manchega cheese, and specialty dishes I couldn’t even identify. They had many kinds of hard liquor and wine and coca cola and even cerveza sin (near beer) for Freddie. There were tables and chairs outside and people sang, danced, played guitars and did palmas. The night stayed warm and the generations of family and friends stayed late. Some of our American friends were there too, Roberto and Alicia Zamora, David Gutierrez and Joanna, David Serva (Jones) and Clara Mora, Trina, who, using her Fulbright grant, had just finished making a movie about Luis’ life, and another woman, her friend from New York who is also living in Sevilla. Jill, Pedro Bacan’s widow, came too. I think of her as both American and Spanish because she has lived in Spain since the sixties. And of course, Concha and Rafael and their children Curro and Carmen were also there. Luis was there too. Paco was still too immobilized to be moved from his bed so we missed his presence at the party. Freddie and I stayed later than our other American friends, until two thirty AM, and then Carlos, Pili and their nine year old daughter Sarai (who often comes with Carlos to the Carboneria when Freddie has his lesson) drove us home because Carlos thought it might be too dangerous to try to find a taxi.. We found out later that the others who had left earlier had had to wait twenty minutes to find a taxi, even though I had called for two telephone taxis on our movi phone. Carlos and Pili now have five beautiful daughters, from sixteen years old to two months old !!!! Yesterday Roberto and Alicia left to return to the United States. It has been fun taking Concha’s five o’clock buleras class with Alicia and Joanna and I will miss Alicia’s presence. Yesterday, hours before Alicia left, she took one last class and Concha made sure to give her a lot of material to take with her. Alicia catches on quickly and will probably remember and use most of what Concha gave her.

I have been fighting a cold and have not had a lot of energy, but I am still taking class and dreading the time we will have to leave. I have so much I want to learn.

David and Clara finally found an apartment on Calle Aire which is a few blocks away from us and they moved in on Sunday. It has unlimited hot water and they have invited us to take showers there! What a treat. Now to find the time to take advantage of their offer!!!! Sunday I taught Lola, the woman with whom both Barbara Evans and Martina stayed, how to shamanic journey and we traded for Spanish classes. Freddie took two hours with her last night and it was very good. I will take a two hour Spanish class with her this Friday. Up on our larger verandah today, outside our room, sitting on the old scrolled wrought iron chairs on the blue and white square tiles, I take in the early evening breeze in the stillness of my sitting. The brick church with its bell is pleasantly familiar as is the white wall with the statue of Saint Anthony in its alcove. To my right, on our verandah by the neighbor’s old white wall, is a bathtub/planter with green plants trailing out of it. There are large tin cans next to it with more plants in them; two of the cans are bright blue. Mariano, the young gypsy who has been working for Paco for many years, comes up to water the plants every few days. I guess the drip system is not working correctly. Today he takes down a bucket of trash. He is cleaning the roof and painting it to protect this room against leaks when it rains. It leaked a year ago in the spring when we were last here, and we are told that it leaked again last winter. Maybe this time Mariano’s work will do the trick. As I look at the plants, including a small palm and some sort of tree, I see the stacks of tile in the corner and the unfinished projects of a creative mind. Will Paco ever get up to this porch again to see them? He must be directing Mariano’s work. Since Paco’s fall there has been a feeling of pathos here, as if an acknowledgment of his mortality. Now I wonder how many years, if any, we will be able to continue coming here, to the Carboneria, as guests of Paco. His unfinished projects grow in spite of his fall. His vision is here in this room, as it is in all of la Carboneria. And Paco, still bedridden, watches the television in his dark wooden room, still entertaining the multitude of visitors who love him and wish him well. Beautiful pieces of art and furniture, knick knaks and statues, vases and paintings adorn the room or sit on the shelf hung from the beam above the foot of his bed. In our room there are still stacks of ornately carved, wooden and guilded old frames and paintings stored indefinitely in the far corner. It is obvious that Paco collected many beautiful things in his lifetime. Will he collect more? Is this what age does? Paco’s mind is still alert and he loves to listen to and to watch the news. He is still involved in the world. Am I just being morbid? This whole trip seems to make me think about age and mortality; the human cycle we are in. My mind tries to make sense of the human condition. We are born, we live, and we age and die. Why is that so hard to accept? Humans for years having been searching for immortality. Perhaps that too is part of the human condition.

October 12, 2000

October 13, 2000 Friday

And then at the beginning of class, before I realized that I was too sick to take it, Concha gave me and a Japanese dancer who looks old a special buleras she had created specially for us older women. The whole class wanted to learn it so she taught the combination to everyone. It is put together with steps we have already learned in the class and is actually very nice. But I felt mortified at having to have a special buleras for old people. It is not what the “old people” do in the videos which is what I had asked for. But I didn’t want anything too easy, although with good styling it isn’t really easy. I think I didn’t want to be told that I shouldn’t do some of the other steps because they don’t look good on old people. I brag about my age but then get insulted when people treat me as old. I still don’t feel old. It’s just that my body won’t move as fast as a young person’s. At least my stamina is still there, better than many people much younger. But an almost fifty six year old body doesn’t have the strength of a twenty six year old body, no matter how strong I am now. I am still conflicted by this natural human process of aging that I can’t control anyway. So why be conflicted? I need to just accept it. Fifteen or twenty years ago I could power through a cold on sudafed and hardly feel it. Now I can’t, although I tried. Why is it so hard to accept that my body is doing exactly what it was designed to do and that it is on the deteriorating part of the cycle. It has served me well and it still does. And I don’t want it ever to stop. Ah immortality. What a theme for humanity. At least I know I am not alone with this dilemma. I always wanted to accept aging gracefully but perhaps I never defined “gracefully”. I remember my mother telling me that once she looked in the mirror and thought, “Who is this old lady?” How do I accept my age and not be limited by the acceptance? Obviously I am not too old to dance and to work on my dancing. Being old doesn’t mean I have to just stop. It just means that there are certain steps that really do look better on a sixteen year old like Graciela than on me at almost fifty six. These young people with their full lives ahead of them stir up the nostalgia in me. And maybe it is being in class with so many young people that brings up the awareness of my own age and my mortality. Last night Freddie spent lots of time with David Serva (Jones) again. Luis sang most of the night after I went back up. But I was too tired and sick to stay down anyway. When I see Freddie and David together I realize that they are both older men now. David walks with this beautiful cane because he broke his pelvis as well as his wrist in the bicycle accident. When he and Freddie talk about the past, it is about a past long before many of the people here were even born. They must be old. Their hair is white, they are missing teeth. And yet they continue to be two little bad boys still hanging out together, still able to hang out together as they age. But there will come a time when age will change it. How much time do they have left? They had better use what they have now. And then if they have years and years left that is great. And if they don’t, at least they will have had what they are doing now. Accepting the aging process means making choices based on that acceptance. There is less and less future to think about and more and more now to live.

October 15, 2000 Sunday

I can hear the rain outside. Now I wish this room had a heater. David and Clara called and invited us to go to the flea market with them, but Freddie, who loves the flea market, said he was too sick. He is still in bed and it is almost one in the afternoon. We ate some left overs from a restaurant meal for breakfast.

Freddie thinks I talk about mortality too much, but that is what is on my mind right now, probably because we are both sick. The changing weather certainly got to us. And perhaps my upcoming birthday brings these thoughts up too. At least being sick gives me time to write. I will also try to put some photos up on our web page today. I guess dancing does take up a lot of time.

Have I described David Serva (Jones) and Freddie’s history together? They met when David was seventeen and Freddie was about eighteen or nineteen and they both played Flamenco guitar at the old Spaghetti Factory in North Beach in the Bohemian era of the fifties, before the Beatniks. Talking about the Spaghetti Factory would not be complete without mentioning the infamous Richard Whalen with his black vampirish cape, white navy pants, and hand made flamenco boots he had made himself. It was Richard Whalen who kept the flamenco alive and going at the old Spaghetti Factory in the late fifties and on until it closed in the eighties. He was also a father/mother figure to the young Flamencos working there, including guitarists, dancers and singers. Freddie had talked Richard into hiring David to play at the Factory shortly after David had arrived in San Francisco. David and Freddie became good friends and had many wonderful adventures together, from working parking cars at the Shadows restaurant, to working in Berkeley at the Cabal and Jabberwok playing Famenco guitar, and of course working at the legendary old Spaghetti Factory and Excelsior Coffee House.

After working the night at the Spaghetti Factory until two AM David, Freddie and Paul Shalmy would climb into David’s old woody station wagon, go to the gas station and clean all the windows, gas up, drop uppers and drive to their ritual place at Las Pulgas water temple on Skyline boulevard. From there they would head down to Davenport, arriving in the early morning, taking uppers and drinking red wine and playing music on the beach for the rest of the day. David and Freddie both lived in apartments in a little dead end alley in North Beach, San Francisco called Windsor Place. Freddie’s apartment cost twenty five dollars a month, but he couldn’t afford it so he had to take in a room mate and then they still couldn’t afford it. Then Freddie and David went to Denver and played in a night club there called the Exodus. From there they went to New York where Freddie opened up a guitar shop. It was on this trip that they both got involved with the Broadway production of Man of La Mancha and they both played guitar in that production.

Eventually David moved to Spain where he continued to play guitar. He has been living here now for over thirty years. Although with David living in Spain, they of course did not see each other as much as before, David and Freddie kept in touch and visited when Freddie was in Spain or when David came to the U.S. The stories of their escapades in the romantic Flamenco era of the Bohemian fifties will have to someday be its own book. I keep threatening to tape their reminiscing, especially when David was in the U.S. and Paul Shalmy was with them. With this background, is it even more poignant to see David and Freddie hanging out together now.

October 16, 2000

October 19, 2000

I have to get my mind out of my dance now, and let my emotional and intuitive part dance to the music. I need to keep my channels open so I can let in the dance and the connection to the universe. When I was little I received a message from somewhere that this emotional part was not OK or shouldn’t be let out in public, or was dangerous to me. So I compensated with my mental side and developed a strong and protective mind in order to survive in the world. Now it is time to let my mental guard start to relax and share time, when appropriate, with my emotional, creative side. What a concept!

October 20, 2000

Tomorrow Paco’s two new grandchildren get baptized in the same church we went to for Paco’s granddaughter Alba’s baptism last year. Alba’s new five month old sister is Luna. Adn and his wife’s new daughter is Candela. We might not make it to Granada this time and neither to Cordoba or Ronda or even Puerta Santa Maria. We had also hoped to take a dance class from Miguel Funi too but even Lebrija seems too far now. Shihoo, the Japanese dancer who has been living in the Carboneria for these two last weeks, leaves tomorrow. We will miss her. She is a nice and giving person and a good dancer and palmera. Concha is getting ready to go to the United States and we are getting ready to go home. I had a Spanish lesson from Lola today. She is an excellent teacher and will come back again next week. I am glad I traded her the Spanish lessons for teaching her to do the shamanic journey. It has been pouring rain outside this afternoon and it feels more and more like winter. We now have an old white square electric heater in our room. It makes a big difference.

October 22, 2000 Sunday

The baptism last night was in the same church as last year, Iglesia San Martn. Paco decided to go at the last minute and took a taxi there with Concha, Rafael, and me. Freddie stayed home to rest, as he is not too big on churches. Afterwards we came back to the Carboneria to eat at the many tables set up in the upper patio room where we have dance classes. I remembered Alba’s baptism a year and a half ago, with its similar celebration, just days after Freddie and I had landed in Spain. That night there was lots of music and dancing and Luis sang and sang and turned forty nine that midnight. Last night Luis and Rubina were in Jerez where Luis had a singing job so they were not able to attend this baptism. Rubina has been taking dance and palmas lessons consistently from Concha and is doing well. Freddie and I are proud of her for following her path and doing what she came to Spain to do. She will be here for six months.

And Freddie and I have just one more week here. It does seem too short. I will be fifty six tomorrow but we never got around to planning anything and then I scheduled a Spanish class for myself, forgetting all about my birthday.

In my mind I am preparing to leave. I still need a cardboard box, in reality, so we can ship a few things home this week. I have no idea how we are going to carry two guitars, two video cameras, my laptop computer, and our suitcases with Freddie’s bad arm and aching back. But I assume we will manage.

Last year we arrived at the Sevilla airport at least two hours in advance and the airport was closed. It opened up shortly before our seven thirty flight was scheduled to leave. So this year I have to call to find out exactly when it opens, because I have forgotten. Luckily, last year Susa drove us to the airport with Luis so we had people to wait with. We haven’t asked about a ride this year yet. I would like some strong man to help us because we have to drag our suitcases down the many stairs and we can’t do it the night before because the Carboneria is open until four AM and so there would be no place to store them. And actually, Freddie can’t drag them at all because of his arm and back. Ah logistics. Ah, the end of this Spain trip. It is Sunday and I want to put some clothes in the washer so I can hang them to dry before we leave. The old washing machine from last year is still in the bathroom and takes over an hour to go through its wash cycle, so I have to start soon.

I shouldn’t cry about leaving in nine days. Many people only spend one, two or three days in Sevilla. We have been lucky to have planned two months. The time here just moves quickly, perhaps because the Spanish never seem to be in a hurry. I haven’t adopted that habit because I am always eating with just enough time to get back to a dance class, and if the cuenta (bill) doesn’t come right away I have to rush. In that way I am very un-Spanish.

Today we went to a venta (restaurant in the country) in the tiny out of the way pueblo El Arco de Colina with Clara, David, Jill, Pepa de Benito and her husband Antonio Vargas and their three year old granddaughter Amalia. There are several restaurants here on the wide dirt street, each out of sight of the other. We ate outside, on the opposite side of the street, at one of the white tables shaded by yellow umbrellas on the red, packed dirt. This meant that the waiter had to leave the restaurant and walk across the dirt to the outdoor tables. But there was hardly any traffic so it seemed like the street was part of the restaurant. The meal took forever to get served, but luckily we started out with beer, then this year’s young white wine “mosto”, and next this year’s green olives, cabrillas (Spanish snails), delicious little pork chops, tomatoes in olive oil and grated garlic, and salad with the traditional tuna on top. Hours later our rice with duck finally arrived but it was very rich and had a lot of small bones in it and we liked the hors d’oeuvres better. This time we were not in a hurry and the long meal was enjoyable because the company was so good. Pepa is the wonderful singer from Utrera who sang in the Bienal show at Hotel Triana where Concha danced and Miguel Funi danced and sang. While we were eating, Clara interviewed Pepa for her project on Flamenco which is funded by her Fulbright grant. Pepa talked about Flamenco, her family history and how she met Antonio and their wedding. I found that I understood most of what was said, which amazed me. Pepa and Antonio are both warm, intelligent, and nice people. Pepa’s family is the famous gypsy artist Pinini clan. I was able to understand this in Spanish. I checked my accuracy with Jill on the way home. So it turned out to be a wonderful day. The sun was warm today. We walked to another restaurant for dessert and coffee. This restaurant’s garden opened to the dirt road and its front opened to the paved road we had driven on to get there. Freddie says that the red dirt of this street is like the earth in the bull rings. We ate in the garden where Amalia played. When we had gotten up after lunch, we were all stiff from sitting so long. Pepa mentioned that her knees hurt so I asked her if she wanted me to put oils on them when we sat down in the garden for our coffee and dessert. Clara encouraged her and she said yes. Luckily the oils worked again and the pain left her swollen knees. Next I oiled her shoulder and then her fingers. She was ecstatic. I had brought four emergency oils with me. After working on Pepa, I oiled David’s wrist (the one he smashed on the bicycle). He has started to play guitar again and is working up his stamina. After that I worked on Jill’s shoulder. I had worked on both Jill and David before and those applications had helped so they were eager for more. Then I worked on Antonio’s head ache and that helped too. Then Freddie, with his universal humor, showed Antonio another way of head relief by cracking his own head with his hands. This is a trick that always amazes and horrifies both children and adults. After that I put oils on Clara’s sore throat. For me, the oils work best on body aches such as strained muscles and tendons and ligaments. And they also work like magic on migraine head aches. I just love it when the oils help people. Pepa asked if I would come to her home to put more oils on her and I said yes if it were this week because we are leaving next week! I told her to call Clara to arrange it because I still have a great reluctance to speak Spanish on the telephone, although I do it quite often now. Clara had invited Concha and Rafael on this outing too but they already had other plans and couldn’t make it. I wish they could have come because we had such a nice and relaxing day.

October 24, 2000

My son Elun called from California to wish me a happy birthday and we had a nice long conversation. I might not have given him enough dance and music, but I gave him support for his intellectual capacity and he is now finishing his Ph.D. in history at UC Davis. Not only that, he is a wonderful person and I am very proud of him. Our friends Johnny and Celeste called me too from California for my birthday but I was in my Spanish class so missed talking to them. Birthdays can be such a nice ritual to receive expressions of the love of friends and family. And e-mail sure makes the world closer. My dance is coming along and the changes are showing. I am happy about it now. I have come through the depression and despair and questioning that being here in Spain seems to stimulate for me. I just don’t feel ready to leave here yet. And, I guess that is good.

October 25, 2000

The delicious smell of jasmine wafts up to me as I step onto our small verandah to check the weather. I have been smelling jasmine also as I walk along Cespedes street. In the spring of 1980 the smell of orange blossoms colored my memory of Sevilla. Now, in the fall of 2000 I will remember the scent of jasmine. Freddie says that the jasmine vines in the patio are shedding their flowers now and are leaving a white cover of petals on the tables.

I received an incredible, large bouquet of beautiful flowers today, Wednesday, during my five o’clock bulerias class from my son Elun and his wife Donna. They are for my birthday and are beautiful. I took a photo of them and will eventually put it on our web page. I had no idea that they would send me flowers here!!!! The class was very impressed too.

October 26, 2000

I am getting the contra tiempo (counter time) in a new way, a way that seems magic. For the last two days most of my lessons have been on contra tiempo and at last I am feeling as if there is an elastic ball between my hands that will do either the counter or the “basic” while my hands clap the opposite. And when I do it with my feet I feel a little bounce of my knee, of my foot springing up, when my step is in counter time. I am stepping between the beats as a child steps between the cracks on the pavement or over the stones in hopscotch. There is a playful feeling as I begin to play with the music. This, counter time, is an underlying concept in Flamenco but it is hard to convey and hard to get. It is counter time with specific accents that go with the music. It is strong and sure and never tentative or faltering, as I have tended to be. I feel as if I have entered another world, another sphere of reality where I can feel the energy and move the energy more and more easily. I have written of this moving the energy before, over the years, but now I am learning a way to access it and harness it so that I call it in almost every time I dance instead of at rare, wonderful moments that I cannot control. Of course, there will always be rare, wonderful moments, but now they will be at a more advanced level for me. Our plan for when we return to Spain next year, or next spring if Freddie and I can make it, is to work on counter time and my foot work and not learn more choreographies just yet. Then the next time I come after that, we will work on upper body and arms. I am also trying to work on strength and assurance in my dance and the contrast between the strength and the softness that colors Flamenco.

I had a good class today and was able to get the contra time in a swing, learning to switch from one counter time step to another, at will, continuing to feel the feel of it, to keep the communication between the palmero and my feet, the twin bounce of alternating time, the play with the rhythm. I am learning to do the same with the guitar and Freddie is learning not to slow down and carry me when I fall off the beat but to keep the rhythm constant so I can climb back on. The guitarist is supposed to follow the dancer like Freddie is following me, but not when we are just working on it, because I need to learn when I am slowing down the compass. And I am learning and correcting this. The dance is magic and I feel privileged to be able to join it. Yesterday I had an hour and a half class from Concha that was almost all counter time and I struggled and just barely was able to get what she showed me. We also did palmas and I found that I had a harder time doing the basic than the contra, but now I can do the basic too. So all the hard work has paid off because today the contra just happened without my having to struggle and push. It is amazing and I am totally thrilled. We are working on both palmas and feet with the counter time and I am getting it, finally !

October 29, 2000 Sunday night

I have been dancing Buleras again with Carlos group, but I still feel in between stages and steps and ways of thinking so I am not that happy with what I am doing. Enrique’s singing is different from Concha’s. So is Inma’s. And the music goes much faster than I am used to, with a modern, pushing beat. So it feels very different from dancing to Concha’s laid back but strong and energetic heavily accented bulerias from Lebrija. Freddie says I am much better in class! But my form at least looks better and the video Freddie took last night and the night before looks better than it felt to me. In class today we did contra tiempo for an hour and a half. I love it. I am going to miss Concha so much. We have so much fun together and I am learning so much, things I have always wanted to learn and didn’t know how to learn. Concha has a true gift for teaching and this gift is developing like the most beautiful fireworks, which just when you think they are perfect, they burst into something even better. Concha’s teaching is like this. She says that now I am ready to understand more, than I can understand. It is so exciting. I know that I will take all this in while we are in California, that I will integrate what I have learned in these two months into my dance, that I will learn it and deepen it and practice it to make it stronger and perhaps faster. I will work on my posture and my style. I will work on my contra tiempo and my accents. I will work on practicing and mastering the steps and footwork I have been given as well as retaining and polishing the beautiful Alegras, Siguiriyas, Buleras and Tango I have learned in the last year and a half from Concha.

October 30, 2000

November 5, 2000 Sunday

I miss Concha a lot, but I cant call her because she is in New York. When you work with someone that intimately every day you either love them or you cant stand them. I love Concha and could easily work with her two more months at that pace, if my thighs would hold out. So Freddie and I plunge into our American lives again, here in our Paradiso on top of this hill in Soquel. We have tapes and photos to send to Spain, when we copy them. We have letters to write. And we have memories living inside us, in our hearts, in our souls, in our bodies. And the pulse of Flamenco continues inside us, carrying us on through this next stage of our lives.