Lights, camera, action…well, not exactly. But what I am about to relate to you is an experience that tops all movies I’ve ever sat through. As part of my cultural immersion program, four of my friends and I were treated to a flamenco dancing show in the heart of one of Spain’s most culturally influenced cities, Granada. Among the 15th century gothic architecture, myriad of Spanish fast-food restaurants, and throngs of pick-pocketing gypsies, one can also find the tombs of the Catholic monarchs Ferdinand and Isabelle, the Alhambra, and the ever-famous Pateo de Leones. However, our intimate night-cap with the nine flamenco performers takes the cake for what I will remember the most about my trip to Granada. As a musician, I am always partial to those who are able to incorporate music with movement. But when that movement is able to engender the most exhilarating acceleration of a pulsating heart, and a melodious voice being able to bring the proudest to the lowest, even to the extent of causing one’s very own heartbreak to hinge on the vocalist’s next nuance, truly an experience becomes divine. Although all 50 of us were sitting there in that tiny, cramped basement of a dance theatre being supposedly given a monologue from the performers to the audience, we were in fact all apart of an on-going dialogue that took place between the performers and the audience. Watching bodies that had performed this same show on so many occasions; listening to voices that ailed of vocal rest long overdue; and physically feeling the intense beating of tired feet in high-heeled shoes on a worn-out basement floor, while simultaneously feeling that you were the very first person to ever witness such an occurence, truly placed stock in the phrase: “what comes from the heart reaches the heart.” It was the heart speaking when the body of a quite attractive blond-haired, blue-eyed young lady twisted faster than a jumbo-jet turbine. It was the heart speaking when the feet of a slightly older-looking lady pounded the ground with frequency capable of malfunctioning any Richter scale. And, it was the heart speaking when the voluptuous, black-haired señora bellowed out the last note of a very famous Spanish love song causing all present to lose any sort of the proverbial social poise. In these instances, no translator will ever be needed to interpret the universal language of love.
Roderick Demmings
Málaga 2-Week August, 2011
University Park, TX
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