Carter Lowe Creator, entrepreneur, and self-care advocate
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flamenco - love in spanish

Flamenco is love in Spanish. Spanish dances for tourists. Flamenco Spanish folk dance.

This was a long time ago, in the late spring of 2004. But it doesn't matter, because these events are timeless, like an amazing exciting dance - flamenco... We wandered around La Pineda - a wonderful resort town of Catalonia, near Tarragona. Twilight was already deepening, behind the park and the road crossing it, the sea was guessed. Crowds of tourists from all over the world walked along the park paths in search of entertainment. The most desperate went to the neighboring city of Salou in the hope of finding something unusual there, like a bullfight or a carnival procession. But neither one nor the other was foreseen - Catalonia was gathering strength before the start of the high season. And resort life flowed slowly and without any surprises.

In our hotel, which consisted of three large multi-storey buildings and a whole town of neat family villas, there were three stages. We liked it because the performances were on at the same time and we always had plenty to choose from.

This time the first stage disappointed us - there they gathered children who, to the American country song of Willie Nelson, were simply fooling around, imitating “wild African dances”, that is, jumping around the stage, lifting their legs and uttering warlike cries. We ourselves were with children, so we did not show interest in these races.

A dark-skinned rastaman, who looked like an illegal Moroccan, sang on the next stage. He performed compositions in the reggae style, but it was possible to guess this only by the rhythm, but not by the melody, because the melody was completely absent. But he sang very loudly and strummed the guitar just as loudly. Rastaman gathered around him a small crowd of tipsy pensioners, who soon started dancing.

The third scene suggested something very dreary. They were talking… They were just saying something in Spanish. We didn’t look at the poster - it’s clear, some kind of amateur resort activity. But there was nothing to do, and we dragged ourselves to the third building...

It was very warm. Last day of May. Tomorrow is summer... Summer, my God! And it will not be long before leaving this marvelous country... What is there - flamenco? Let's go see this flamenco, anything is better than listening to a deaf Rasta man.

While we reached the neighboring building, while we chose a place, while we settled down, the young man, who was telling something to the public in Spanish, finished his speech. Three guitarists and a keyboardist appeared on stage. They took a seat on the side of the stage. Hit the strings. The electronic synthesizer produced an intricate melody. The castanets sounded. Two girls stepped onto the stage. And then came the same guy who had just addressed the public, not even suspecting that no one understood him.

Flamenco is love in Spanish. It was flamenco - a Spanish folk dance, which here, in Catalonia, is a little different from, say, in Alicante or Andalusia (where this dance, by the way, appeared). Flamenco is a little different everywhere. It incorporates the features of the people inhabiting a particular province. Temperament, national character - what is usually called mentality. Flamenco is a little different everywhere, but always instantly recognizable. First, the music. The melody itself is intricate and ornate. It can only be compared with Latin American tunes, which are even more complex and ornate. The melody to which flamenco is danced resembles a sound lace - if such a thing exists in nature. Curls - endless repetitions, large rounded patterns - like whole finished fragments. And all together a grandiose, exciting composition, in which it is difficult to find the beginning and end. Flamenco melodies seem to be endless.

Second, the dance itself. He is expressive. He is pushy. He is insanely handsome. And he is overwhelmed with feeling. It is impossible to imagine a more erotic, more frank dance. Although the dancing man is dressed in a dark leotard, and the women are dressed in wide gypsy dresses with a fan-shaped hem rushing around the stage.

Thirdly, the plot… Flamenco is always a love story. The story of the rivalry of women for the heart of a man. The story of a bloodless duel, the final of which will definitely be life and death. And, of course, love.

This flamenco is Catalan. We saw flamenco with castanets, which, they say, somewhat contradicts established canons. But flamenco is full of contradictions. Take at least the origin. Flamenco is not a Spanish dance. This is the dance of the Andalusian gypsies. So... And the fact that it has now spread to all of Spain and is considered a folk dance, national pride, this is quite natural. In the definition of “Spanish gypsies”, in the first place, nevertheless, “Spanish”, and then “gypsies” - in the sense that other such gypsies cannot be found anywhere in the world. Spanish dances are unique…

When the first dance ended, there was nowhere for an apple to fall in front of the platform — almost the entire resort of La Pineda converged on the third building of the hotel… But the music stopped. There was a long pause. Everyone fixed their eyes on the stage, on this trinity of dancers, who could hardly take a breath and doomedly looked into the darkness - at the audience. And then there was such a flurry of applause that laid his ears.

They danced again. Then more. Finally, the soloist addressed the audience in Spanish. "What he says?" "What?!" The people looked at each other, puzzled. And the guy understood, switched to broken English. And everyone… gasped. These three were from the hotel staff, residents of neighboring villages. Their incendiary, filigree, masterfully performed flamenco was not their profession. But they danced like high professionals. Like real masters.

Flowers flew onto the stage. What is surprising, where could the vacationers get flowers from? The dancers bowed in embarrassment, but they were all not released... Then someone asked something. Only the soloist heard the question. He approached the microphone and said: "Yes, this is my bride." And he hugged one of the girls, the one that was taller. And it immediately became clear - they did not play, did not entertain the audience. They danced because they couldn't stop dancing. This flamenco was their story, their drama unfolding right before our eyes.

I will never forget this dance... And if you get to Spain, be sure to go to flamenco. This is not a bullfight, not a carnival, not a tomato fight. Flamenco is Spanish for love. [sixteen].