At the risk of sounding like an early jazz tune, I married a girl from Kansas City. One of of my first winter trips to KCMO, my wife Abby eagerly proclaimed that we needed to visit the ¨Plaza:¨ a center consisting of American chain shops constructed to mirror a European square. More specifically, however, the architects of the Plaza paid homage to Kansas City´s sister city: Seville, Spain. Every Christmastime, Kansas City decorates this square with lights of all colors, its canary yellow and mocha edifices gleaming in the cold, dry air of the Midwestern plains. Fast forward five years and Abby and I are marvelling at the ´real´Sevilla. I have to confess that KC does a decent job with its replica, but the charm of Sevilla is certainly real: medieval cathedrals, European cafes with umbrellaed tables, and shoe stores as far as the eye can see.
The highlight of my trip to Seville was the Flamenco that we saw in the evening of our second night. (I know, what can be more stereotypical way to round out a trip in Seville?) The show began with a single guitarist on the stage; even a casual listener can recognize the skill and dexterity needed play Flamenco guitar. I couldn´t help but think that the purity of the Flamenco guitar certainly had to do with the fact that we were listening to an instrument that has a long history in Andalusia. The guitarist finishes his tune, and a young man with a floppy mop of curly moreno hair and dressed in all black takes a seat beside him. The guitarist fingerpicks a few strings, and the young man bellows an airy and echoey note as two dancers–one male, one female– enter the stage. And then, a pandemonius cacophony of rhythmic taps, claps, chorded strums, and long bellows coupled with gyrations, garrish vests and dresses of all colors and materials, poise, and grace. Flamenco is an athletic event (a dance marathon, really) , a love story, and a history lesson. The facial expression of the two dancers captured me the most– as an English teacher, my mind immediately went to the narrative between the two: what did these two lovers go through to get to this point? What pain have they caused each other? Would there be reconciliation? The story arc seemed to have a happy ending: they first dance together, then solo, and then together again, changing outfits all along the way.
I will always remember our short stay in Seville, and when I travel back to Kansas City, always think back to incredible charm of its sister city. Onto Madrid!