sevilla struts her stuff

We have come to Sevilla to find flamenco guitar, dancing and singing. So we go to see a performance at the Museo de Baile Flamenco, the world's only flamenco museum, where the flamenco is advertised as "pure", more traditional than the lavish ensemble shows which attract so many tourists.

 














We are not disappointed. The virtuosic performers; a female singer whose voice is so powerful and full of loss and longing that it sends shivers up my spine; a brilliant guitarist at one with his instrument and the music; a  wiry male dancer with  haughty, almost evil  expression on his face as he stamps his feet and uses his whole body so vigorously that he shakes sweat over the audience in the front row; and a beautiful female dancer whose facial expressions and hand and arm movements communicate the entire range and intensity of human emotions. 

 

I love this passionate music and dance, which has such sadness at its core. 

It has such an interesting history, the product of so many influences, starting perhaps with the Indians who roamed into Europe, the gypsies, the Moors and the Jews.

Like the blues, it has its roots in oppressed rather than ruling classes. 

Like jazz it includes improvisation. 

Most importantly it is fuelled by the rapport which develops between the performers and between them and the audience.Ole!

You can't wander the wriggling streets of Sevilla without coming across the cathedral, its major monument. From the tower, which was once a minaret, there is a good overview of the city. You climb a ramp which was originally for a man on horseback to ascend to call the muslims to prayer. Much easier than walking it as we do.

Horses and carriages line up outside the cathedral, hoping for tourists who want a ride. A pungent smell of horse manure intensifies with the heat of the day.

After a  couple of days, I am frustrated with Seville. She has flamenco and a cathedral and a bullring and hundreds of tapas bars and many plazas and churches and the same river which flowed through Cordoba.

Egyptillogical levitation.

But she is playing to the tourists.  I can't find the essence of Sevilla. There was a hint of it in the flamenco performance, but even there the tourists were packed in to the "intimate " venue and were more interested in capturing the visuals with their digitals than in deeply entering in to the experience. [Poor Dave. I gave him strict instructions to keep the photography to a minimum.]

So, over the next few days we avoid Sevilla's 'attractions ' and set off in search of her "duende", her true spirit.