Last Saturday, we heard some music with very loud drums coming from the restaurant down from our apartment. Something didn’t sound right, so I took a look out of the deck. Turns out, it wasn’t drums, but feet. Specifically, it was Flamenco Feet.
Same thing happened tonight. Based on the turnout, it looks like it’s a regular event. Heidi suggested we go check it out, so we got our shoes on, and went to watch. Some of us got our shoes on, and others got dressed up. I’ll give you one guess as to who it was. Not only did Anya get dressed up, she brought along her flamenco fan.
They had already started when we got down there, but I discovered the reason it was so loud. The dancers not only have thick heels, they were standing on top of a wooden platform that was slightly raised above the ground. Imagine if you took some 2x4s and built a perimeter, and then dropped a big plank of plywood on top. That’s what they used, so it acted like a big speaker when they stamped their feet.
Side note: I wonder what they call them here? “Dos por cuatros“? I’ll have to look that up…
So we’re standing on the side of the road watching, and the owner of the restaurant comes over to us, and asks us if we want to sit at a table. Sure! He explains that if we want to eat a meal, we would need to sit inside, but we explain we want to watch the dancers. He goes to the trouble of bringing out a new table with four chairs, right in front.
This is awesome. And guess who’s completely transfixed? Yeah…you know who. She is absolutely still while watching the dancers. There are 4 dancers in total, but only 2 or 3 dancing at the time. There’s an older dancer who Heidi and I are assuming is The Teacher. The rest are young women (late teens / early twenties), and they are all very good. The music / singing is not live, but it’s still very riveting. They are so expressive with their hands, it’s almost hypnotic. And they can really move those feet!
We get some wine (Rioja) for the adults, and water for the kids, and the owner sends out some bread, and another dish. I don’t know what it’s called, but it was some pork thing in gravy, and while it wasn’t bad, it was not my thing. Nor Heidi’s, or Lars’, or Anya’s. Well I tasted it at least, so I do get credit for that.
My behind was getting sore after an hour or so, and Lars was getting a bit bored, so he and I decided to head out. As we were walking by the dancers, I gave the thumbs up to one of them, and she said, “thanks” and gave us a big smile.
I have a feeling we’ll become Saturday Regulars (minus the pork thing).