FLAMENCO, FLAMENCO...REPRISE

on a corner near the end of where calle vascondagas goes nowhere, there’s a fun bit of graffiti that reads, from about knee level, “i hate flamenco music [signed] - seville.” and the not so cryptic message written into that bit of graffiti near that not so hospitable cul de sac probably isn’t far from expressing the sentiments of many of the locals here, especially those of theirs that surface when they’re confronted with the fawning adoration of so many of the visitors. it must feel at times like working at the mall at christmastime (which season has already started here, by the way, company parties and all -- but certainly not to any complaints from this visitor), and it’s understandable that there are those (if not the most of them) who are simply doing their time because they have to until they can put something else on. and, for their part, there are even those visitors who have been at it long enough in the vacated posts of the locals to have learned to request something else from the dj before the party.

but -- and maybe it’s just the early spirit of christmas (which, here, es una cosa, en serio) -- the calling of whatever it is that moves people into and inside of the sphere of flamenco (and there beyond overly earnest conversations on arte and ambiente) still makes its proud appearance in the streets -- at least in those others away from that dead end of calle vascondagas. and it was there in the plaza de la gavidia the other day when the spare changer put that empty fruit box between his legs and started playing it like a cajon, and then singing; and then some of the diners at the edge of the patio of the dos de mayo started singing with him, and then the man who had brought his guitar (there was actually a man who had brought his guitar) started playing as some of his friends danced (or at least moved) to the music with some of the children who had been playing in the plaza. or maybe they hadn’t been called by anything and they’d just had enough to drink; but, then again, so probably had the rest of the patrons of the restaurant and the one next door (and everyone sitting at any of the benches in the plaza), enough at least to ignore the group of impromptu flamencos if they’d had enough.