Dirty Dancing Must have been Invented in Spain. The sounds of the tapping in rythym with my heart….at this location, meaning Street of the Moors, I experienced no doubtedly one of the most pleasurable evenings of my life. Definitely felt that if I got a churro stuck in my throat and suffocated (or a shrimp shell in this case!) I would die a happy woman.
Why? Their feet mirrored the pulsing of the heart, the loss, the feeling of elation of belonging and being in snyc with your hunger and others around you. And also feeling not good enough, how wrecking that can be, attempting to control and drive the little things, fretting about if you will stand out as american in your trice worn black pants or not being able to receive fully because of the money you just dropped (a little over $100). I felt human. But not in a manner that laments the limitations inherent with existing…the shitting, the breathing problems, the ongoing need to consume to be nourished, or the lack of seeing or being seen.
In a manner that made me proud to have lived at all.
…The flamenco corral de la moreria serves up gourmet fare alongside table flamenco. Hands down the most heart wrenching gut blowing entertainment I´ve encountered may be due to the food as well. The grilled king prawns, the bottle of wine, the seafood paella…the rich nutty smoothness of the saffron infused rice sliding down into my stomach produced aweness, sheer pleasure, and NO GUILT. It had to be consumed. There was no hesitation.
When was the last time you did not hesitate?
When you did not measure yourself?
Blanca Del Rey, you had me at hello. Her feet clicked, the colors swirled, and the combination of my senses swept me away into a mass of thanksigiving. for my glorious life, the broken loss of love and the exilir of passion…for anything. Tears sliding down as the guitar strings plucked like rose buds and the black shoes grated. Tears grappled me for the next 90 minutes, merging with images of my first kiss, a moment shared with my mother where her face shrunk of all hope, the time I saw my baby brother a few hours old.
No wonder this is one of the 1000 places to see before you die.