De Santa Barbara a Sevilla

January 29, 2012

Eres como el Flamenco, que enamora.

Over the course of the last week I have witnessed a lot, and am ever more fascinated by the reach that flamenco has as an absolute culture and life style. I knew that upon coming here I’d see a lot of foreigners who like me have come to Sevilla to get their fill of this insanely passionate art form that grabs you by the heart and refuses to let you go— but I had no idea how many I’d come to know. Flamenco’s international reach has surpassed expectation.

· The other night I went out to a tablao with six girls. As a whole we came from: Canada, France, Israel, the U.S., and Basque country.

· Today I met a percussionist/all around musician from Phoenix who is currently contemplating selling everything he owns in order to live here permanently.

· Tonight I went to go see a Japanese bailaora who has developed quite the respectable reputation for herself—- the thought of a Japanese dancer entering the most intimate of flamenco worlds In Sevilla and finding both acceptance and success is both odd and amazing.

Musicians, dancers, singers, and fanatics… we all understand the same language and are bonded by an unexplainable thirst to find satisfaction through this one of a kind art form. Its reach is limitless and doesn’t discriminate.

I met a little boy tonight at Junko Hagiwara’s show. During intermission I left my seat to grab a glass of wine and returned to find him sitting in my empty seat. He was perhaps 5 or 6. He had made friends with my roommate Susana and so instead of returning to his mother’s side for the second part of the show he happily sat on her lap. I had a hard time deciding whether to watch him or the show. He was absolutely mesmerized by the scene going on before him and his fascination and delight were written all over his face. It filled me with joy.

Leaving is going to be tough.

January 29, 2012

Junko Hagiwara

January 24, 2012

IRELAND [December 2-7, 2011]

As my closest friends can attest, I have developed a strong dislike/nostalgic sadness/Debbie-downer attitude about my birthday. Come October when Elyse, Rachel, Bre, and I got together to organize a trip, I couldn’t think of a better way to snap out of my birthday blues than a trip to the notoriously fun and exciting country of Ireland. So as it turns out I turned 23 years old in Dublin, something I would have never imagined happening. I can without a doubt state that to me, there is no more warm, playful or joyful country (from the ones I have so far traveled to on this European-journey) than The Emerald Isle. It seems to me that life is more colorful in that beautiful country to the north—and despite experiencing a heavy share of struggle and devastation throughout history, the people retain an appreciation for life that goes unmatched elsewhere. Despite the extremely cold weather that had us shaking a good portion of the trip— I wouldn’t change anything.

The trip made three stops: Dublin, Wicklow, and Cork. Dublin might be the most fun city I have been to. My favorite few hours of the trip took place within the lavishly decorated (ala Christmas) walls of Temple Bar, where on my birthday we spent a good portion of the day sipping on whiskey and cokes and listening to a non-stop musical parade of Irish bands. The warm environment is one I surely need to get back to, and the awesomely beautiful sound of the fiddle made me want to reconnect with the instrument of my past. Dublin was truly something else— complete with Irish folklore, men with mullets, Guinness Beer (naturally) and midnight dancing with senior citizen ladies to ‘Come on Eileen’. I’ll be back.

Next up was the Irish countryside. Being the girls that we are, a stop in Wicklow was inspired by the movie “P.S. I Love You”. We arrived midday and were welcomed at our hostel by a wonderfully kind woman named Tricia. We had probably been there all of 30 minutes when a young woman who works at the hostel (I forget her name… this is what happens when you don’t jot your thoughts down in a timely fashion :/) offered to take us on a walk along the close by beach cliffs in hopes of seeing some seals. The walk [see pictures below] was one of the most beautiful experiences of my entire time abroad. We didn’t get to see any seals, but the feeling of glee we all felt made the freezing walk all worth it. The following day we decided to go on a hike in Wicklow’s National Park. Within the three hour span we were there we caught just about every weather extreme due to the different elevations we hiked through. At the highest point we caught some snow, and just before departing we witnessed an Irish rainbow. It was wonderful to get in some quality time with mother nature.

Our last stop was Cork. Time there was limited, but not to be out done was our visit to Blarney Castle—one of Ireland’s most visited landmarks and home to The Blarney Stone (which legend has it grants those who kiss it the gift of eloquence). We arrived at Blarney Castle in time to experience the grounds before it began to rain. The castle was beautiful, and I and Winston Churchill have now kissed something in common.

The return to Sevilla was long and included a sleep over in the Malaga airport, a chase down by a taxi cab driver, and an “almost missed the train” close call. It was without a doubt a wonderful trip, and one that I will surely forever remember. [THE PICTURES DON’T DO THE SIGHTS JUSTICE—Do yourself the favor: If you ever find yourself in Europe, make a stop in Ireland!!!]

January 24, 2012

Hallelujah, I am again connected!

Where do I even begin? Since my mom and I embarked on our Greek/Italian adventure [12/17/2011], my computer has been functioning with much difficulty [or rather not functioning at all]. I’ll spare the details of the lengthy technological saga that has been my life over the last month and just state with the most passionate of enthusiasms that: NOTHING BEATS AMERICAN CUSTOMER SERVICE (for I have found that for the most part customer service doesn’t exist over here). So now that my computer is humoring me and allowing its battery to charge, I will travel back in time and attempt to recreate via writing my most interesting experiences and memorable sights. Bare with me. First up: IRELAND!

December 8, 2011

May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift

May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
And may you stay forever young.

November 30, 2011

Mucho Sol, Mucho Baile, Pura Vida.

Hay veces que todavía me parece una mentira que este aquí, un sueño del cual no quiero despertar. Tengo casi tres meses viviendo en España. Si en febrero o marzo de este año alguien me hubiera preguntado si me imaginaba estar aquí adonde estoy hoy, les hubiera dicho que no era posible. Aunque mi tiempo aquí esta transcurriendo muy rápidamente, siento que dentro de este tiempo mucho ha pasado. He sido expuesta a un punto de vista completamente diferente al punto de vista Americano tradicional. A través del programa con cual vine, he tenido las oportunidades de aprender y participar en actividades y eventos del cuales nunca había participado o conocido. He tenido la oportunidad de convivir con personas con las cuales he formado amistades muy especiales, que se que continuaran mas allá de España. He viajado a países y ciudades que no esperaba ver quizá jamás [y todavía me falta ver mucho— que tengo mas viajes planeados con mi mama y mi hermano]. Y lo mas importante: la emoción que siento al otra vez tener el flamenco a mi disposición es inexplicablemente maravillosa.

Aunque todavía me quedan mas de dos meses antes de regresar a los Estados Unidos— ya entiendo ha mi persona mas profundamente que antes. Estoy en un viaje de aprendizaje, y lo mas bello es que todavía me queda mucho que ver y entender. Le doy gracias a dios por las oportunidades que me ha brindado, y le pido que siempre sea mi guía.

November 30, 2011

SISTER, SISTER

My sister, Adriana, and Sienna arrived for a long anticipated visit to Sevilla on the 16th. I can’t quite describe how surreal it was to be able to walk through the streets of Sevilla with my sister— to be perfectly honest it is something I never for saw, especially given the last year’s circumstances. They arrived in Sevilla to what was absolutely beautiful (unexpectedly so) weather.

My sister went flamenco apparel wild. Watching her and Sienna both browse through fabric and dress stores was like watching children parade through Disneyland. Having them here was a much needed dose of home considering my stay has just been extended to march. Their stay here included a lot of laughter, and naturally a lot of sangria.

There were two major highlights. The first was taking a dance class together. We are 11 years apart and come from quite different stylistic flamenco generations. She came along and took a class with my Maria Ruiz and for the first time in all of the years we have danced, we took a class alongside one another. I couldn’t be prouder that she is getting back into sync with the dance world and refueling herself through one of her [our] greatest loves. The second highlight was our visit to Jerez de la Frontera. We hopped a train to meet up with one of our most beloved friends and teachers, Maria la “Cha-Cha” Bermudez. Seeing Chach was a breath of fresh air. Again, as with so many situations, I could’t have imagined as a tween [HA!] taking her workshops that I’d be alongside her and my sister a decade later on her home turf of Jerez [her home turf is actually East el lay— es una Mexicana!]. It was nice to sit with Chach and chit-chat about a lot of stuff. She looked at me and shook her head happily while proclaiming that she had first come to Spain at my age [and never left (for good)].

The day before departing they got to meet Reyes, my host mom. My sister [in my mom’s stead] decided to break out my arsenal of dance pictures. Upon seeing the pictures of me dressed up as a flamenca, Reyes proceeded to pull dresses out of her closet [all of them sewn by her]. Nuria, her daughter, insisted that I try some on… and so it was discovered that Nuria and I are the same size [please ignore my unusually large head in the picture— I hope that’s just the angle]. It was great to see how well my sister and Reyes got along and I can’t wait until Reyes gets to meet my mom!

The visit finished off by a premature Thanksgiving dinner at Amor a La Mexicana, and an early morning breakfast Thursday before they caught their train for Madrid. I am so happy I got to see them and share a little bit of my life in Sevilla with them.

P.S. Sienna, I still miss Jewey de Jerez.

November 30, 2011

Huerta de San Vicente.

The one place I was determined to go to in Granada was the summer home of the Lorca Family, the same house in which Federico Garcia Lorca was living when he was assassinated by the Franquistas at the start of the Spanish Civil War. He is and forever will be my favorite poet. His work, so much of which has been transformed into flamenco cante [he was a flamenco aficionado] pierces me, especially when he writes about my Luna [see the second entry on this + I almost titled this blog ‘Romance de la Luna’].

The house was simple. A dining room, living room, music room, kitchen and a few bedrooms all maintained the same furniture and fixtures that were in place when the family fled the country— the lack of grandeur Is probably analyzed as completely anti-climatic and dull by others, but for me— powerfully special. Despite the fact that photos are ‘not allowed’, I couldn’t resist snapping a few shots on my ITouch. His piano, his University of Granada Diploma, and his bedroom were captured blurrily [think that I took them quickly/sneakily]. To see and touch the desk where he wrote some of his most prized works was amazing to me.

As I walked through the man’s home I felt at peace and a little woozy. I am so very grateful I had the opportunity to visit one of the homes that nurtured Lorca. The good mood I felt carried on through out the day.

November 30, 2011

Su luna de pergamino
Preciosa tocando viene
por un anfibio sendero
de cristales y laureles.
El silencio sin estrellas,
huyendo del sonsonete,
cae donde el mar bate y canta
su noche llena de peces.
En los picos de la sierra
los carabineros duermen
guardando las blancas torres
donde viven los ingleses.
Y los gitanos del agua
levantan por distraerse,
glorietas de caracolas
y ramas de pino verde.

Su luna de pergamino
Preciosa tocando viene.
Al verla se ha levantado
el viento que nunca duerme.
San Cristobalón desnudo,
lleno de lenguas celestes,
mira la niña tocando
una dulce gaita ausente.

Niña, deja que levante
tu vestido para verte.
Abre en mis dedos antiguos
la rosa azul de tu vientre.

Preciosa tira el pandero
y corre sin detenerse.
El viento-hombrón la persigue
con una espada caliente.

Frunce su rumor el mar.
Los olivos palidecen.
Cantan las flautas de umbría
y el liso gong de la nieve.

¡Preciosa, corre, Preciosa,
que te coge el viento verde!
¡Preciosa, corre, Preciosa!
¡Míralo por dónde viene!
Sátiro de estrellas bajas
con sus lenguas relucientes.

Preciosa, llena de miedo,
entra en la casa que tiene,
más arriba de los pinos,
el cónsul de los ingleses.

Asustados por los gritos
tres carabineros vienen,
sus negras capas ceñidas
y los gorros en las sienes.

El inglés da a la gitana
un vaso de tibia leche,
y una copa de ginebra
que Preciosa no se bebe.

Y mientras cuenta, llorando,
su aventura a aquella gente,
en las tejas de pizarra
el viento, furioso, muerde.

—Federico Garcia Lorca

November 30, 2011

Solo Solos Somos Libres.

Córdoba/GRANADA (November 26-28)

I have had some wonderful experiences since being abroad, but no day has been as productively peaceful and amazing from early morning to late at night like the Sunday I spent in Granada. BUT I’ll back up a little and preface that…

After what was a really great thanksgiving dinner on Thursday, I went to Córdoba early Friday morning with ISA and got to stroll around what is really a pretty city. We were there until around 4, and in that short time I got the sense that Córdoba is a very peaceful place. [I’ll spare the details].

Around 4 we got back on the bus and went to Granada. I was pretty exhausted and slept a majority of the ride, but every so often I’d look out my window only to see beautiful lush landscapes— which built up my excitement to arrive at the last city to be re-conquered by Isabel and Fernando… and [DUH] eat FREE tapas.

The first night there we got to see one of the things Granada is most famous for: Flamenco en Las Cuevas. The show was pretty good, and I was most impressed by the second Cantaor/second set. After the show one of the dancers asked me where I was from, and the conversation lead to me telling them that I am dancing in Sevilla. The singer (the one I liked) then asked me what my favorite palos were and proceeded to serenade me por tangos [ALI=HAPPY]. We then went up to a spot with a spectacular view and got to see the whole city layed out before us at night, lit up beautifully.

The next day we went on a tour of the Alhambra—Spain’s most famous/most visited monument. As I walked through the Mudejar palaces and gardens, I found myself day dreaming about what the spectacular place must have been like when it was inhabited by its Arab Sultans— the word majestic comes to mind. I thought about my Abuelito, Santos Albarran, and my undefined Arab roots.

The rest of the day was spent walking in Granada’s city center and tapa hopping. I could absolutely get used to Granada’s food scheme: every time you order a drink, you get a FREE TAPA. Yes, that means if you order three beers you get three (usually wonderful) tapas. For a food addict like myself, this means heaven. While nearly everyone from ISA headed back that evening, I stayed back an extra night to get a little more out of Granada, and I am so happy I did.

Sunday morning started off with a visit to Parque Garcia Lorca which houses Huerta de San Vicente: Federico Garcia Lorca’s summer home. [For details on this check out the specific entry]

After visiting the last place my favorite poet lived in before his assassination, I and three friends headed “north”. On our walk up to the hillier streets of Granada, we came across some really cool tagging/graffiti art on the walls. It was an absolutely great day weather wise and seeing all of the graffiti and taking in the beautiful views and sunrays inspired my mood. I’m pretty sure the three others felt the same, because we were all in agreement that this had to be one of the best days any of us had experienced [at least while abroad]. We ended up at a restaurant right by the viewing spot mentioned earlier [originally seen by night]. The awesomeness of relaxing at that restaurant [in the sun, on couches, with the city and the Alhambra sprawled before us with snow covered mountains as the backdrop] is impossible to accurately convey. Bliss. Everyone was all smiles as we reluctantly began the walk down to the hotel where we had to pick up our bags and head to the train station and return to Sevilla.

On the walk my mood took a bad turn when I realized I had dropped/lost a 20 euro bill that Max had just handed me. After feeling like I was again in Paris I got frustrated. But, I decided I couldn’t let it over-take or erase the great mood I had been in earlier. Upon arriving to the train station we learned that the 5 o’clock train we had initially wanted to take was sold out (had I initiated a bad luck spree?). I then went outside to call the bus station to see if any other arrangements could be made, and low and behold I found a 20 euro bill on the floor. HI NATE. The bizarreness of the dreamlike day could not have been capped off any better. We killed the next three hours at a tapa place near by and happily hopped on the train just before 9.

November 30, 2011

Murphy’s Law: Paris edition.

[November 18-20]

I’ll spare you the bad luck details— but I must convey that my weekend was kind of like a long running practical joke in which I played the protagonist. Over charges, lost money, malfunctioning technology, and Greek food are only a portion of the things I found myself dealing with— BUT I would not be broken [It actually became comical to me at one point], and despite my string of bad luck, I LOVED PARIS. Chelsea and I arrived at our hostel only to be pleasantly surprised that it was on the 14^th floor and yielded a panoramic view of the city of lights— Eiffel Tower included. By night the views of the city were mesmerizingly stunning. After getting situated we went down stairs and explored. Our first stop was [of course] to eat a crepe, dee-licious.

We then set off to see the Eiffel Tower. The metro [which I really enjoy] took us to the most recognizable icon in the world. Now, although I have always heard of the grandeur of the structure, I was in no way prepared for how deeply impressed I was by its beauty. To see the Eiffel Tower by night was a true treat, and as I sat there on the lawn and looked up at the light show going on before me, I couldn’t help but think of one person: Mateo. I pictured my little 8 year old sitting next to me gushing with happiness. He loves bright lights, and I’m sure that right about this time of year he is day dreaming about how he is going to decorate his front lawn for Christmas— no doubt in the style of his Daddy.

The next day the biggest visit we made was to The Louvre. It was surreal to stand before art work I had read about and seen pictures of since I was a child. Before me were some of the World’s most prized works— art created by some of the brightest minds human history has ever known. I was taken away by The Venus the Milo, The Sphinx and of course, The Mona Lisa. To thoroughly see everything in the Louvre you’d need hours, and unfortunately our time was limited. Fortunately I will be going back with my brother and Matt and am definitely looking forward to seeing everything this time, especially (for my mommy) El Penacho de Moctezuma.

Paris is undoubtedly the place with the most to see, and I am happy that I will be going back in February. Hopefully my next visited wont be marked by bad luck.

November 30, 2011

Barcelona, Nov. 3-6 [I should have gotten this down earlier because I know I am leaving some great details out, but things have been getting increasingly hectic]

Despite a weekend of nearly non-stop rain, I truly enjoyed the capital city of Cataluña [Catalunya]. I got to see some amazing things, but was most mesmerized by Parque Güell, which I was fortunate to stroll through on Saturday [which was the only day it did not rain incessantly]. Gaudi’s work is simply amazing, and I can’t help but wonder what was running through his mind as he conceived the ideas behind his uniquely impressive work.

Thanks to Kristen’s awesome recommendations, we encountered some AMAZING food. A hole-in-the-wall/standing-room-only/super-inexpensive restaurant called Xampanyeria yielded what is undoubtedly the best food I have had since leaving Santa Barbara. The sandwich I ate was filled with bacon, cheese, grilled onions, red bell peppers, was toasted to perfection and topped off with some mysteriously delicious sauce. We tried going back there for dinner on Sunday only to discover that it was closed. Its been 3+ weeks since being there and I still find myself day dreaming about the food.

It felt great to see a familiar face when later that same day we met up with my friend Kaylie. She took us to a Mexican restaurant which in no way disappointed [yes— my fondest memories of Barcelona have everything to do with food]. Being able to hang out with someone from home was wonderful. When I first met Kaylie I never envisioned us having a drink on the other side of the globe, I loved it.

We got to see La Sagrada Familia and the Cathedral, strolled along Las Ramblas and took a bike ride to the beach [where we found some awesome graffiti].

I really enjoyed Barcelona and definitely saw a huge difference between Spain’s northern powerhouse and my Andalucía capital. I loved the diversity within the city and appreciated the blend of cultures and different peoples. I look forward to going back someday. But— I have also found that with every trip I take I look forward to the rest that comes along with getting HOME to Sevilla.

November 16, 2011

This is SO inspiring. Do yourself a favor and watch and pass this on. The world needs more selfless people.

***Cada año unos 400.000 emigrantes centroamericanos intentan llegar a Estados Unidos, cruzando México. Viajan como moscas, sobre trenes de carga: No hay vuelos para los ilegales, ni futuro… En un punto de Veracruz, encuentran una pequeña esperanza: “Las patronas”, unas mujeres valientes, les aguardan al pie de las vías para entregarles comida y bebida, tren en marcha, día a día durante los últimos 15 años.

November 7, 2011

Today, my Dad turns 60. There is no way of accurately conveying in writing how special this man is to me. My dad is my rock, my hero, my example of right, my pillow, and the person who’s voice I yearn to hear when I am at my lowest. To be Ruben Rey’s daughter is a gift—- and today on his birthday I wish I could give him a huge hug and sit on his lap (crushing him). His devotion to helping people, and putting everyone above himself goes unmatched and is under-appreciated (for what it should be) by most. There is no more rewarding feeling than hearing someone he has helped tell me how “fortunate I am to have the father [I] have”… I tell them, “I know”. My mind is uniquely aware and active because of what he has instilled in me, and it is my constant goal to make him proud.

So cheers to the man that will always play the leading role in my life, and here is the song that forever reminds me of him! Happy Birthday Ruby, I love you!