Flamenco

My most recent adventure was in Madrid, a spontaneous, peer pressured event. I had no intention of ever going to Spain, but Madrid was certainly a showstopper, a favorite by far.

Speaking of showstoppers, Cardamomo, recommended by the New York Times, was a highlight of my Spanish experience. Cardamomo is a flamenco hub-a hub of life and excitement and an amazing show. I am pretty convinced that some flamenco dancers came to teach us their art when I was in middle school, and I was not too intrigued at the time. I am intrigued now.

Let me set the stage- We walked into the building which had a little tiny bar at the front, then we were led to the back where a stage sat in the corner. Since the stage was in the corner, two sides were open to the audience. We sat on the far side of the stage, and another audience sat on the other side. There were little tiny tables set up for the audience, but there couldn't have been more than 50 people there, and the stage no more than 15 ft x 15 ft. It was a very personal experience!

Two men, dressed in all black, sat on the stage. The toque, the guitar. Then the cante, the singing. I couldn't understand the singing, but the music came to life. As the two men got more and more into the performance, their music blended and consumed the theater.

I was already in awe, jaw dropped.

The dancing started as new people emerged onto the stage. First came a heavily made up woman in white satin and ruffles, then came her counterpart, a woman donning an outfit of black lace and not a hint of make up. They danced one at a time, but they all participated in each performance. Hands came together for each clap. Then they all joined in, faster and faster. The dancer's feet started tapping, then stomping. The rhythms beat on the stage. There were two men who danced, their feet flying. They all glanced at one another to keep up these rhythms. There were smiles and faces of exhaustion. There was sweat glowing on their faces, then pouring off of their faces. They shouted out words of which I couldn't understand, again.

The beating of the feet in time to the perfectly syncopated clapping, was none other than exhilarating.

I couldn't keep up with pace of the show, and I couldn't stop smiling. 

It's a different show every night, but here's a link to the kind of show we experienced!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mlh7dTNh73c&list=PL3B25C2B02AC1BD6B

Sunsets in Madrid

Frad Family Reunion. Good Friends.

Our little theater

That man can move his feet