Sunset over the plaza de La Puerta del Sol, Madrid. Gate of the Sun, beautifully said in Spanish, La puesta del sol sobre la puerta del sol. The famous clock tower marked a major symbol for the historical, bustling square. I stood amidst the crowds of people, admiring the last bits of orange zests setting the Spanish sky.
Our time was nearly running out in the large, capitol city, and the night was about to be filled with a classic Flamenco show. It was dinner and a show, touristic, but I didn’t mind. The room was long and narrow, with abstract Miro-esque, and modern figurative nude paintings hanging on the walls. A small stage slept in the back corner. We finished our meals and sipped on vino tinto, charlando, anticipating the show to come. Two guitarists in black attire took the stage and sat on ordinary, black wooden chairs, and lapped their weathered, flamenco guitars. Their faces appeared focused, collecting themselves in stillness. The very space of the present moment was being summoned. One loudly tapped his thumb on the wooden belly of the guitar, creating a hollow sound signaling a beat. Simultaneously they dug in, slapping the strings, instantly connecting the crowd. The tune was unrecognizable, original perhaps, but its emotion carried a tone, transporting us from our surroundings. Intensity rose . . . building . . . building . . . hands moving in fast forward motion . . . sound bursting into oblivion with the last strum- bu da dum!
A Flamenco dancer sashayed intensely onto stage. One hand gripping a gather of red ruffled skirt, the other outstretched, compelling her entrance. Both arms snaked their way over her head, while fingers flexed fervently. The guitarists clapped and stamped her rhythm as she swirled and bent, dancing, stomping, and chanting, portraying a story of her soul. The night went on with more passion and more elation, satisfying like a long drag after a lengthy orgasm. I sipped the last gulp of my Crianza, thankful that my soul, like hers, had soared, thankful for the orange sunset over the clock tower . . . "Salud!” to the city of Madrid.
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