As it got colder and the weather started threatening to rain we went back to the hostel, swapped our skirts for jeans and went back out. We crossed a few processions but we'd seen that all before and headed for the centre to discover other Sevillan sites. We found the cathedral which was a pretty impressive building.
We wandered down several narrow streets in a different neighbourhood (the name for which I can't remember!). We stopped and had some tapas, resenting the fact that we've 'grown-up' in Melilla where tapas comes free with any drink!
Fried squid and fried goats cheese on a jam thing - they always seem to serve cheese with jam! - with Sangria!
We wandered more around town, Annalisa bought herself some stylish sunglasses and I managed to find a few suitable dresses. We stopped for coffee and churros (I explained them before, right?).
We had reserved tickets for another flamenco show in the evening, hopefully this time without tourists. We got there slightly early and stopped in another little bar near the venue for a glass of wine. It was crazily decorated with skeletons and lots of melted wax. That was odd...!
We went next door and plonked ourselves down in some seats near the front. The receptionist came on stage and explained we were not allowed to take photos nor videos until we were told otherwise.
Two men took to the stage and sat on wooden seats, very similar to the other show however this time they weren't decorated. One began to play the guitar and the other began to clap, gradually feeling enough emotion to sing along. His voice sounded quite Arabic and I couldn't quite make out what he was saying. It was nothing heartfelt - it sounded like he was singing about talking to his mother and her calling him back into the house, etc.! Later a big busted woman came out in a dark green velvet top and a long skirt which can only be described as something a great-grandmother would wear. I couldn't imagine her dancing the flamenco, that's for sure! Disappointing.... Until she started moving and clapping with the music. It was great, all over again like the first half of the flamenco we'd seen a few nights before.
In the middle of the show the flamenco dancer and the singer left the stage and the guitarist took centre-stage. He must have been playing for about a good 20 minutes. The sound of the Spanish guitar really is beautiful and actually brought a tear to me eye. I wished James could have been there to see it but since seeing my other Flamenco video perhaps I shouldn't have. James - it is not just a bunch of clapping and dancing with a drunken man screaming *shakes head*!
After really moving the audience the other two came back on stage, this time the woman dressed in a yellow and brown traditional flamenco dress. She danced her socks off and we noticed that she used a lot more of her lower body, whereas the other woman used her arms and shoulders a lot more. I guess with a more intimate audience she knew they would be able to see clearly. Here are a few shots and a video:
Later the woman elegantly sat down on the chair and clapped along and we could tell the end was unfortunately nearing.
We stumbled out onto the busy streets and luckily found a seat in a fairly busy pizzeria. We munched down a scrumptious pizza ready for a comfortable, slow walk home back to the hostel. BUT we got stuck! This is basically what happened:
Every way we turned there were processions and they had this eerie feel about them in the dark! The colours were all different and everything seemed a lot more intimidating.
Seeing Jesus coming towards you on the cross was particularly spooky!
The band looked pretty cool this time too:
We noticed that each procession is slightly different. The floats represent different parts of the Easter story and sometimes the band come first, then the float, following my the KKK or sometimes the KKK come first followed by the band and then the float. Either way the band played with precision every time and in Seville, as we were there for the first few days of Easter when Jesus so-say approached his death, the music was particularly sad.
Here's a video - sorry for the turning of the camera - we're not quite pros! Also, sorry for the sound distortion at the end, it really was that deafening! You can hear how the lead trumpeter (trumpetist?) was flailing. Bear in mind that these guys had been trapsing the streets all day, I imagine his lips were pretty darn sore.
We eventually safely got home and went to beddy byes only to get woken up by our new room-mates from Chicago shouting at 4.30am. Thanks. Punks.
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