Tag: flamenco

🍊Seville: Oranges, Passion and History

On By Cathy NoiceIn Cathy NoiceLeave a comment

I arrived in Seville on the afternoon of January 4th which happened to be the Cabalgata de Reyes or the Three Kings Parade.  Three Kings Day is celebrated on January 6th but the parade is scheduled depending on the day of the week.  I had no idea that this was going on until I couldn’t get an Uber from the airport due to incredible price increases.  I decided to find a cab instead and my driver told be about the parade. It’s a long parade that travels in a big loop through the city dropping candy for children and a spectacle for the adults. Had I known the route, I would have attended but I really wanted to get my bearings in a new city. It seems that being lost with luggage in tow is a norm for me at this point, I was dropped off by the cab about a quarter mile from my apartment because, as is the case in a lot of European cities, my apartment was on a pedestrian only street. I have found in my travels that being on a pedestrian street is advantageous in the ease of getting around on foot and they tend to be quieter at night. The main snafu is that it’s easy for me to get disoriented in a narrow alley trying to find the entrance. I did. The location was great. The cost is 15 minutes of figuring things out.

I absolutely love Seville. The weather in January is highs in the 60’s. I was able to walk safely to every sight of interest. The people are very warm and friendly. There are bitter orange trees everywhere. In January, that means that each tree will be full of ripe bitter oranges. I found this to be amazing and unexpected. In fact, there are over 14,000 bitter orange trees throughout the city. The oranges themselves are the property of the government and are harvested by temporary staff annually to make the famous Seville marmalade. So basically, I was walking through a bitter orange orchard for the week I spent in Seville. What’s not to love about that?

One of the magnificent rooms in the Real Alcazar in Seville

I am moderately conversant in Spanish and I found that practically everyone I met locally defaulted to speaking Spanish with me. I really appreciate this as it makes me feel more self-reliant to be able to converse in basic questions like “does this have onion?” or “is it very far?” In the previous weeks I muddled through with the basics of Italian “Grazie” and “Por Favore” and Portuguese “Obrigado”. It was a relief to be able to understand what people were talking about and for locals to be willing to engage with me in my mediocre Spanish. I compare this to a trip I took with my kids to Barcelona where the language is Catalan and practically everyone started speaking to us in English regardless of whether we tried to engage in Spanish (not Catalan). It’s not that they don’t speak Spanish, the locals default to Catalan or English.

There are probably a 100 flamenco shows within the Seville city limits. It is the birthplace of this passionate dance with Moorish and Roman roots. Most of the songs and dance are that of lament; the wailing and intensity sucks you in. I was in the second row crammed into a tiny tableau with maybe 50 seats. The singers, the guitarist and dancers are just feet away. Each performance is loosely planned and the songs and dance are improvised. There was one woman performer who could snap her fingers so delicately and eloquently, I was mesmerized. The clothing, the music, the wail and pain of the singer, and the incredible speed of the guitar; it is not to be missed.

When I traveled to Lisbon the month before I finally understood that Portugal and Spain were under Muslim rule from 711 to 1492. 800 years has an enormous impact on architecture and culture. “Ojala” in Spanish translates to “hopefully” but that root is actually from an Arabic word “Inshalla” or “If God wills.” The name for the main castle in Seville is Real Alcazar.  Alcazar is Arabic for castle and Real means Royal. This place is not to be missed. It was started as a citadel in the 10th century during the Abbasid dynasty. It had palaces (nine in total) added and enlarged over the next 4 centuries by both Arabs and Spaniards under different regimes. The Alcazar represents the melting pot of cultures with extensive tile from floor to ceiling with Moorish arches and floor fountains in many rooms. It’s surrounded by an extensive garden including the omnipresent bitter orange trees. Ferdinand III conquered Seville in 1248 and it was taken over by Castilian monarchs. Seville is about 60 miles from the coast along the Guadalquivir River. Many explorers including Christopher Columbus, Ponce de Leon and Nunez Balboa passed through the Real Alcazar to either bring back the spoils of the journey or ask for sponsorship on the next voyage. This was the hub for all things American. It’s remarkable to stand in a place so steeped in history.

I also visited the Seville Cathedral which is the largest gothic cathedral in the world. It opened as a Catholic Cathedral in 1507 (it originally was a mosque in 1172) and is an example of Gothic, Moorish and Renaissance styles.  There are countless chapels (there are 80 contained in the cathedral) in this enormous church. The stunning feature of the cathedral is the enormous gold altar piece that is called the Retablo Mayor which is the largest altar in the world with thirty-six relief panels depicting scenes from the Old Testament and the lives of saints. It stands 76 feet high is and is breathtaking to behold. 

There are many places to visit in Seville including the Gold Tower, the Plaza de Espana, and the very modern Setas de Seville (which look like giant mushrooms). I most enjoyed just walking the countless pedestrian streets through old historic neighborhoods with empanada shops, tapas bars and plenty of stores selling Flamenco dresses. I also enjoyed a paella class on a rooftop near the Gold Tower. It was mostly a demonstration instead of cooking but it was interesting none the less. 

I could have spent another week or two in Seville it had such a relaxed friendly vibe and I felt like I was immersed in the history of both Spain and the Americas. I know I will return.

✈️4 Tips on Traveling to Barcelona

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This August I traveled to Barcelona with my son Benson, my daughter Natalie and her fiancé Kevin.  We had spent 5 days in Bordeaux before arriving in Barcelona by train. I have been wanting to travel to Barcelona and Spain in general for the better part of twenty years.  Leading up to traveling to Barcelona I had been watching countless Spanish language series on Netflix like Hache and La Catedral del Mar which take place in Barcelona. My previous travel to Spanish speaking countries has been mostly in South America, I wanted to get my ear accustomed to “Spanish” Spanish.  While learning any romance language can help you in parts of Europe, I’m not sure all that effort was worth it although I really do enjoy watching foreign language shows. 

My children walking through the “streets” of Barcelona

Here are my tips on traveling to Barcelona:

Transportation.  Traveling by train from Bordeaux took us from Bordeaux to Narbonne (France) where we transferred to a train from Narbonne to Barcelona. The train ride from Narbonne to Barcelona is very scenic.  We passed by the Pyrenees mountains between France and Spain on one side and the Mediterranean on the other.  There were kite surfers on the inlets and the rest of the landscape was mostly desolate.  Upon arriving in Barcelona, Benson and Natalie decided we should take a subway to our apartment location.  As we entered the Estacio Sants, I was entirely overwhelmed by all the signage and crowds snaking in and out of gates. I have to say I really wanted to get into a cab mostly because I am not a fan of maneuvering luggage on a subway and I freeze in confusion by the tumult.  Yes, we went down some crowded staircases without escalators but in retrospect, it really was the best way to go. I’m glad I just trusted my kids to get us where we needed to go.  After walking about a half mile with all our luggage (take suitcases with wheels please), we traversed what is a labyrinth of streets (neh, alleys) of the Gothic Quarter.  There were no cars on these streets. If and when there is a car on these streets, it’s an event which shuts down a lot of the street making it impassable.  Take public transportation, have either very light bags or sturdy bags with wheels because you will be walking with your luggage. 

Catalan.  Folks in Barcelona speak Catalan. If French and Spanish had a baby, it would be the language Catalan.  This means that every sign, package and menu is in Catalan.  Not Spanish.  Not French.  Yes, we were usually handed menus in English and the majority of folks in the Gothic Quarter spoke English and Spanish due to the high number of foreign tourists but you are immersed in Catalan.  Most street signage is in Catalan which while somewhat similar to Spanish (it’s frequently written in Spanish below), it can get pretty confusing.  Sortida is Catalan, Salida is Spanish and Sortie is French for Exit. I had to study Catalan on my language app for about three months before traveling to Barcelona but when I got there…I kept reverting to Spanish.  Most will be able to speak English and will usually default to it in tourist areas but they speak Catalan and Catalan is not Spanish.

Food.  Our apartment in Barcelona had a very small refrigerator, about the size of a large dorm refrigerator in the United States.  This evolved into a happy turn of events because I never even tried to cook. This fortunately, “forced” us to eat out at practically every meal.  The food in Barcelona was terrific. For the carnivores in our group, Benson, there was a huge array of sliced cured meats like jamon, chorizo, salchichon, lomo, and sobrassada.  For a plant focused person like myself, the roasted peppers and eggplant was simple yet divine. The assortment of seafood was terrific and the octopus is not to be missed. Serendipitously, for foodies like my family, there were three of the best restaurants in Barcelona at the bottom of the stairs to our apartment.  One of which was La Alcoba Azul (the blue bedroom), was directly below us.  We had plates and plates of incredible food in the back of this cave like restaurant with very low ceilings, ancient wooden tables and candles that had what looked like centuries of melted wax.  Every morning we ducked into a multitude of cafes for espresso and lattes and whatever their specialty was for breakfast: either crispy flakey croissant or pan con tomato. The only meal we had with a reservation, was at Gourmet Sensi.  To my surprise they had some delicious creative vegetarian options like Ravioli with Truffles and Parmesan and Cannelloni made from eggplant.  Each forkful was delicious. We reflected later that probably the best food was that last night in Barcelona at Gourmet Sensi.  The Mercado de Boqueria is an enormous public market that has practically anything to go.  You can get a cup of charcuterie, fruit slices, cheese slices, olives and roasted nuts…anything.  When I go back to Barcelona, I will do a better job of planning my lunch to be eating my way through “La Boqueria”.  In retrospect, I love that we rarely had a plan yet ate incredible food at every meal, snack and coffee break. My advice is to eat the food, everywhere and often.

Explore. Fortunately, our apartment had air conditioning which is unusual for the Gothic Quarter.  It was nice to have a refuge from the 90-degree heat although there were plenty of beaches within either subway or walking distance as well.  I finally put my toes in the Med at Playa del Bogatell. There are countless public beaches to choose from.  There are numerous attractions like the public parks like Parc de la Cuitadella and Parc del Port Olimpic and anything designed by Antonio Gaudi is worth the trek like the Sagrada Familia, Park Guell, Casa Mila and Palau Guell.  The Tempo de Augusto is a historic landmark that is part of a temple that was built by the Romans in the 4th century.   FOURTH Century! There are several museums in Barcelona and we explored the Picasso Museum where they had some of his earliest works from when he was a teenager.  It’s a remarkable transformation from a classic portrait painter as a fifteen-year-old to the cubism he was known for in his later years. His style so dramatically changes throughout the museum that I kept walking up to each one to verify it was Picasso who painted it.  I think I could have explored Barcelona for another year and not found the same place twice.  My advice is to get out and explore Barcelona, there are countless offerings.

I’m glad that we didn’t have a frenetic pace to our trip and that the four of us were together for a handful of things like dinners, a flamenco show and the Sagrada Familia.  I spent time with each of my children separately and together and I had some time on my own. We constantly were weaving experiences together and apart. The result was a relaxing, delicious escape to an intriguing city.  I cannot wait to return. 

🎶The Power of Music

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Labor Day weekend of this year, my friend Mark and I went to the annual outdoor Duke Symphony Orchestra Pop’s concert on Duke University’s east campus.  This was a pilgrimage of sorts for me.  My daughter Natalie, had played this very same concert as a freshman 12 years earlier.  It’s an amazing feat for the musicians as it was the first week of school and they had just auditioned, been selected and rehearsed together for a mere 6 hours before performing for a crowd of several hundred on a sunny Sunday afternoon in September. It was my experience 12 years earlier at this very concert that started a dream that eventually brought me to Durham to live.  So here we were, Mark and I, sitting in camp chairs, the orchestra players under a white canopy and all walks of life surrounding us from babies, toddlers, freshman with back packs, families with picnics, couples with wine and cheese and senior citizens barely managing their folding chairs. We waited to be entertained by the music.

Children dancing at the Duke Symphony Orchestra performance

The experience reminded me of the power of music:

Music moves.  I usually write while listening to classical music.  It’s amazing how I instantly wanted to nod my head or tap my feet.  As written by Daniel Levitin for Psychological Science, “Researchers have shown that music stimulates the cerebellum, a region of the brain crucial to motor control. He says connections between the cerebellum and the limbic system (which is associated with emotion), may explain why movement, emotion, and music are tied together.” At the outdoor concert it was intriguing to watch the young children coming together to dance and swing and run and sway.  It was apparent that most didn’t know each other but they were drawn in by the music to dance in joyful exuberance. 

Music is nostalgic.  I had no idea what music they were going to play.  I may not know the name of a song but regardless I can be suddenly transported to another decade. They played part of Aaron Copland’s Appalachian Spring which has in its seventh section a rife on the Shaker tune Simple Gifts.  Simple Gifts supplants me to a beach on Dan Hole Pond in Ossipee NH at Camp Merrowvista at the age of fifteen. There we are – skinny teenage girls in overalls and t-shirts sitting in a circle under the moonlight singing, “’Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be, And when we find ourselves in the place just right.” I was in the right place 45 years ago and I was in the right place at that concert.  Time travel in the matter of a few seconds without a time machine or plane ticket. 

Music engages. The last song of the concert was John Philip Sousa’s “Stars and Stripes Forever” and the Maestro had us clapping in time.  At the flamenco performance I saw a month earlier in Barcelona, I was dying to stomp my feet and grab up a large flowing skirt.  The children at the outdoor concert were compelled to grab each other’s hand and spin in a circle. At the last choral performance I saw in the Duke Chapel, the entire group joined in singing Hallelujah. I remember my last day of work and my coworker Kiesha asking what walk out music I wanted.  I said I didn’t have one.  She selected one for me on her phone and played it as I strutted out of the office with my coworkers coming out of their cubicles to witness my last day of work to Pharrell Williams’ “Happy”.  Music calls you to be a part of it.  To engage in it.  To participate and belong to the experience. 

Music connects. As an undergrad at Cornell in the early 1980’s, we had a group of us that worked at the Pancake House called “The PhD’s” (pancake house drunks) that used to go out most Thursdays to bars around Ithaca, NY.  We only went to bars that had a jukebox with the song “Mack the Knife” sung by Bobby Darin on it.  There are hand movements (neh, body movements) that go with the song.  There would be twenty or more of us singing along with Bobby crooning away. I think every wedding I attended post-graduation, it was a “must play” song as well as Sinatra’s “New York, New York.” It was a PhD anthem. Anything from Pink Floyd connects me to my brother, Rick while sitting on a bean bag chair in the basement of our house between two giant speakers listening to “Wish you were here” or “Money”. My children and I took a terrific 2,000 mile road trip around the southwest United States when they were in elementary school.  We had a video player (very new age at the time) in the back seat.  We listened to Lion King countless times.  “Hakuna Matata” was the anthem for that trip. Music weaves connections in my life.

What is so powerful about music is that its meaning is different for each one of us.  I hear the Eurythmics “Sweet Dreams” and I am taken back to riding the subway to work in Manhattan with my Walkman cassette player.  For you?  You may have never heard it or it takes you to a hospital room or a senior prom or a marching band performance.  Its power is endless in its connection, nostalgia and engagement in countless ways. How does music move you?

💃🏽The Duende of Flamenco

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I love that the Spanish have a word for “magic and charm” in duende. When I arrived in Barcelona in August with my children and my daughter’s fiancé, I didn’t realize that I wanted to experience duende until we arrived at the Tablao Flamenco Cordobes in La Ramba.  I have learned over the last ten years that I prefer to have less of a plan when traveling than too much of one.  So outside of tickets to see La Sagrada Familia, we didn’t have any other plans for our six days in Barcelona.  When we were strolling through the Gothic Quarter, there was a street performer dancing flamenco and I realized that I needed to find tickets for a performance.  I had seen Jose Greco II perform in the 1990’s but that was a completely different type of show than the Tablao Flamenco that we experienced in Barcelona.

The performers of Tablao Flamenco Cordobes in La Ramba

The duende of Flamenco:

The Venue. When I saw Jose Greco II dance at Luther Burbank Center, it was a relatively large auditorium, the Tablao style of Flamenco is performed in an intimate setting.  The Tablao itself is the floorboard on which all the musicians and dancers stand, with low ceilings and wicker chairs tightly packed into a cave like setting.  It’s like being ensconced in the experience.  The warmth and closeness draw all your senses into the performance. The stomping and clapping and snapping of fingers reverberate, captivating you. There weren’t more than eighty people in the audience on the night we saw Tablao Flamenco Cordobes. The venue held us as did the dance

The Improvisation.  

Most dance and musical shows are well rehearsed.  Tablao Flamenco is improvisational  There was definitely an outline of who would perform: say one dancer, one singer and two guitarists but the rest was improvisation. The dancer would start to tap and the singer would start to clap to lead the dancer and then start singing which engaged the guitarist which inspired the dancer into striking a pose. It was poetry and dialogue and, as I said at the time, like improvisational jazz with stomping.  It was intense to watch the performers sense the direction and build on the last movement or strum or pause and be in a constant state of creation. The improvisation drew us in.

The Jondo.

There were three male singers throughout the performance.  Sometimes there was one on the Tablao, sometimes all three.  They sing in the form of Jondo. From the brochure, “Jondo is a lament, a scream, an outcry, a laughter based on poems or songs from Spanish literature, which the singer peels away through his own inspiration, with no script and no obligation other than the pace for kind of song being interpreted.” Throughout the show, I could feel the pain, the love, the sadness and the joy regardless of not understanding the words.  The Jondo is and was felt deeply in that room.

The Guitarists.

There were two guitarists although they weren’t always on the Tablao and, sometimes, just the two guitarists were alone on the stage. I love Spanish guitar.  I am mesmerized by the skill and dexterity it takes to play as it’s the only kind of music I have every tried to play on guitar. I loved the intricate fingerings, the improvisation between the two guitarists as they bantered back and forth, and the guitarists themselves stomping their feet and drumming on the guitar to a syncopated beat. The guitarists were mesmerizing.

The Dancers.

There were two female and one male dancer.  From my prior experience with Jose Greco II, I have only seen a male flamenco dancer, what a joy to see a combination of male and female energy and for the terrific costumes they all wore. The power of the male dancer and his lighting speed tapping, and his endless spinning were spellbinding.  One woman dancer was so graceful in her arched back and her delicate yet intentional flourish of her hand as she fed off the singer’s lament. The other woman dancer came out in a classic long flamenco dress and I could not believe how she could even stomp (without tripping) but she was able to lift one leg, supporting the long dress train, and spin the dress flawlessly. The dancers dialogue with all the other performers was palpable and moved me deeply

The rhythm is the common denominator through the entire performance.  The tapping, the clapping, the snapping of the fingers, the beat of rhythm of the guitar, the cry of the singer and the emotion of the dancer were felt deeply in my bones. The duende grabbed me and held me for the whole performance. I felt one with all those in the room and I’m glad I had this deep satisfying experience.