Saturday night and Seville is really buzzing. Paul and I took a taxi to the El Arenal, a historic 17th century Andalusian building tucked away in a side street to watch some flamenco. This was not touristy, cabaret flamenco. This was truly authentic flamenco. We had seats right at the edge of the stage and I was just enthralled by it all. The dancing was amazing – so much energy and passion, castanets clicking like a rattlesnake ready to pounce.
Each dancer came on stage and stood motionless for the first moments absorbing the strums of the guitar, the clapping and the singing before suddenly launching themselves into the dance. The singer (the cantaor) almost sounds as if he is in pain as he sings. It was a truly memorable evening.
Afterwards we strolled back alongside the river to our hotel. All the lights of the city seemed to be reflected in the water, it all looked magnificent. There were crowds of people milling about but they seemed more like citizens of Seville rather than tourists. We felt very safe. This city is growing on me.
As we walked through the back streets of Triana we suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of clapping, stomping and caterwauling coming from a bar. I peered through the door but Paul had had enough and dragged me back to the hotel. Bah!
|walking back to the hotel, yes that's me dancing in the street|
Tomorrow (Sunday) we say goodbye to Seville and head south to the small seaside town of Nerja.