After an amazing adventure to the middle of nowhere, we decided to salvage our day by making an unplanned excursion into downtown Granada, home to the vicious Ticket Witches. Any trip to Granada is worthwhile, parking tickets notwithstanding.
By far the coolest thing for me was watching a huge truck crane dismantle a tower crane that hung over the Granada Cathedral of the Incarnation, or Catedral de la Anunciación, which was built in the 1500's. I don't have any idea what a crane operator makes per hour, but it is likely not enough to cover the cost of dropping a huge load on top of a 500 year old church.
After about an hour of aimlessly walking around, which in Granada is actually pretty cool, we found a bar with wifi, which accomplished two things: (1) we could all catch up on our internet addictions, and (2) we could make reservations for a flamenco show. In a previous blog, I recounted our first experience with flamenco. This show promised to be another wild affair. Susan found a supposedly famous place that several US Presidents have visited. This guaranteed the show would be full of non-Spanish tourists.
We were not disappointed. Two busloads of Asians, and our little family, filled the Lilliputian cave, including the small wooden chair proudly emblazoned with "Michelle Obama". I hold no grudge against Asians, or any group for that matter. I am simply making the point that nobody in the room hailed from Spain. The emcee welcomed all of us to the show in four different languages. Any minute, I expected some greasy lounge lizard to start belting out a Sinatra tune. A free beverage was included in the ticket price. This was tourist city. The only thing missing was a big Barnum & Bailey sign saying, "See the egress!" to eschew the hangers-on.
Attending a tourist oriented spectacle has some advantages, however. Perhaps the the most overlooked reason to follow the herd is the fact that many people before you actually liked the show. You don't get US Presidents, and Michelle Obama, to attend a shoddy performance, unless of course, it is a fundraising event. This particular family has been performing flamenco in this particular location for 65 years. That's a lot of foot stomping. Trust me when I tell you that guests were not paying for decor.
Another reason to follow the well-trodden path is that you get to look at all the other suckers and snicker at them for being bamboozled into showing up at such an obvious tourist trap. Of course we knew it was a tourist trap going in. We just didn't want to travel the extra 100 feet to attend the "authentic" show. Flamenco wasn't even on our agenda for the day. These poor folks had no choice. They just stepped right off a big bus and filed in like lemmings, looking for a cliff, all giddy with excitement at getting to see a real live flamenco show.
The best reason of all, though, is the opportunity to be an authentic tourist and turn my sweet little twelve year old inside out. The dancers, who were actually very talented, literally squeezed between the chairs as they whirled and stomped, snapped and clapped. I merrily cheered and shouted out all the Spanish phrases that seemed appropriate. The dance troupe's matriarch gave me a nice smile, when I yelled out to her, "Guapa!", which is basically like saying, "Hot mama!" Of course, "Olé!" is good for just about any occasion, including several times during a flamenco performance. Every time I shouted out a phrase, Katherine would cringe a little bit lower in her seat. She began hissing at me to shut up, which only encouraged me to sound off even louder. I began to get the timing down, so that my voice would ring out during a lull in the music.
Finally, Katherine hit on a grand inspiration. She needed to use the bathroom. Remember that this was in a cave, with only one entrance/exit, which was used by the performers. We were trapped inside, much to her chagrin. One of those tourists let her off the hook, though, by breaching all decorum and getting up between two acts. I had no choice but to release my prisoner.
She did come back, however, which afforded one more opportunity for torture. At the end of the show, all the dancers picked people out of the crowd to get up and dance with them. When one of the dancers came our way, I was sure she wanted me to get up and I humbly offered my hand. Obviously this was a new dancer, because she left me hanging and reached for Katherine's hand instead. I could not have planned this any better. Although piqued at the rebuff, watching Katherine squirm on stage was enough to assuage my pain.
The ride home was 75% chatter and 25% deadly quiet. Susan, Elizabeth and I were all aglow, regaling the night's events. In the deepest recesses of the Nissan Micra, however, lurked a vicious black panther, poised to strike. We left her in solitude, preferring silence to thrashing. Upon reaching our flat, she quickly climbed into her tree for the night, licking the wounds of public display.
After about 15 minutes, I walked up to the room and asked to speak to her. She allowed me about 10 seconds, during which I told her to spend less time worrying about what a bunch of tourists, that will never see her again, think and more time enjoying the moment. Then I told her I loved her and left her alone.
The next morning, she was able to smile a little about the episode. We even got a few jokes in. After a couple of hours, even Katherine thought it was funny. Of all the people in the room, she and Susan are the two that would be mortified by a public display, and both of them were flanked by the two people who would give an eyetooth to get up and shake their tail feathers in front of total strangers. What a beautiful irony. Priceless.
Two busloads of Asians filled the cave's , including the chair bearing Michelle Obama's name. I have nothing against Asians. It was just obvious that none of us were Spanish. The announcer welcomed us to the show in three or four languages. Yet another sign. The show included a free drink. At this point, I began looking for a greasy lounge lizard to start singing Sina
No comments:
Post a Comment