Today was all about the women. Shopping, Talking, and a bit of Flamenco dancing.Apart from visiting me, of course, the Flamenco Festival was the purpose of Rako and Claudia's visit this weekend. Claudia is a seasoned dancer, not surprising as she has roots in Southern Spain mingled with her Mexican blood.
Before hitting the show, we dragged Rako out and about to get a bit of shopping done. As you see, he did a great job of leaving us to it without complaint. Along the way, we ventured into some old second-hand book shops in Charing Cross, where I landed a gem. Yes, a paperback copy of Margaret Atwood's collection of short stories entitled 'Dancing Girls'. How fitting.
I knew little about Flamenco before this weekend. It's roots are moorish and hail from the South of Spain. The music involves the guitar, of couse as well as drum and the singing is operatic - long drawn out words, held in vibretto, with the resonance of an Arabic chant. The performance itself was remarkable. I've never had lesbian tendencies -but these women were so powerful, so strong and fierce in their step, with their arms flapping and dresses flailing. It was absolutely stunning. Flamenco is a powerful dance, and passionate to say the least. I was so impressed and so moved by the performance. These were no mere Dancing Girls. They were Dancing Women.
