I originally posted this here just before the very first Flamenco Tour in 2012. I wanted to share it with you today on the eve of Thanksgiving. Rereading it I feel grateful. Grateful for trust.
Grateful for the trust that allows me to do certain things that I fear. Things that I really want to do. Things that make my life richer. Without trust, I would miss out on so much.
So, thank you, trust.
Some good things
have happened since my trip began. And I've already learned something very important.
Os cuento...
On Monday I went to the Portland airport.
I befriended the woman standing behind me in the security line who, as it turns out, I'd met before. We talked, and I told her about my trip. She told me it was going to be great even though I was scared that everything would fall apart. She also told me this was definitely the first of many.
On Tuesday I arrived in Madrid.
It was sunny, and the sky was blue. I was in Spain and happy.
Now I am in Jerez.
It is rainy and the sky is grey. I am still in Spain. I am still happy.
After all of the nervousness, all of the sadness I felt about coming here alone
Yes, I felt sad and nervous about coming to Spain. I know, stop feeling sad you lucky girl!
Even knowing that the group would join me soon.
Even knowing that Ricardo would come to get me in Madrid.
Even knowing that Melinda would come to visit me in Jerez.
I still felt sad. I still felt nervous. I still felt scared.
Flash forward to Tuesday night.
That was my first night in Spain.
Ricardo, Marcos and I went to see Manuel Liñan dance at Tablao Villa Rosa.
I did not know we were going to do this.
None of us knew.
I had never heard of this tablao. (It had only been there for a year or so.) It was formerly a discoteca and before that a sala Rociera.
So, anyway, we went there to see my best friend dance.
Now, just as my boyfriend is not actually my novio, my best friend is not actually my mejor amigo. That is just what I call him. There is a story to go with all of this, but it is for another day.
So, we went to the tablao.
We weren't the only ones there. Obviously. Though there weren't many people, a spattering of tourists.
Then the flamencos started arriving. Coming in to see the show. Coming to support their compañero. Marco Flores, a classical Spanish dancer whose name I do not know, David Coria, and some others.
I want you to know what it was like watching Manuel Liñan dance on the small tablao stage.
I want to describe it to you, but I'm not even going to try.
Because I don't know which words to use to accurately describe what I saw. So, I'll just tell you that he danced por tarantos, and he was fenomenal.
Que forma más buena de empezar mi viaje.
I've learned something big, been reminded of something important, since arriving here. It is that
Even amidst all of the fear, I still need to act
Because I was scared to come back to Spain.
To plan this trip.
To come on my own.
To...
But thank goodness that amidst all of the fear I was still able to listen to that voice telling me to do it anyway.
There is always this voice telling me to do these things that I want to do.
These things that the fear tries to tell me I don't want to do.
Thank goodness for all of these instances this week reminding me that the fear will show up, but it needn't stop me.
Some Spanish
Os cuento - I'll tell you
novio - boyfriend
mejor amigo - best friend
What about you?
I'm sure you have some fear stories flamenco related or non-flamenco related? Can you think about a time when you were afraid but you knew you needed to do the thing anyway? Did you do it? How did it feel? Did you not? How did that feel? And what are you grateful for today? Leave a comment below.