Happy Birthday To Me

Dread 50?  Oh no, not me.  My 50^th birthday just happened to fall on a Saturday, the perfect excuse to host a fiesta de mujeres with all my compañeras de baile.   35 dancing friends turned out to celebrate this milestone on a breezy summer night in our patio.   No fear here!

Singing my way into 50

I have fallen under the spell of flamenco, so of course a guitarrista and a cantaora were mandatory.  Thanks to my week in Granada, I have finally cracked the compás code of the bulerías, and dancing solo in the middle of a giant circle of women is no longer so intimidating (although I still sweat it). 

Mandatory to ring in 50: Good friends!  With Begoña and Eva (cantaora)...

...compañeras de baile de Lola...

...compañeras de la base y Puerto...

..y compañeras de baile de Concha, y mas de la base!

In true Spanish style, the first guest showed up at 8:15 (party started at 8), followed by several more at 8:45, and the bulk of the crowd making an entrance at around 10 pm.  After sharing multiple potluck dishes, we circled our chairs in the patio, and Domingo and Eva from Peña La Bulería began playing right around midnight.  

Dancing first...

and showing off!

Charo takes center stage

Aitana, our youngest compañera (and she can DANCE)

And we danced.  And danced.  And danced.  First bulerias, then some sevillanas (¡viva la feria!), and rumba.  Then various talented friends took up the microphone and began singing.  Elisa topped us all with a stunning bulería she both sang AND danced!  Ay, que envidia tengo yo. 

Mas amigos: Beatriz, Eva, Domingo, and Carolina

At around 2:30 am things began winding down as the alcohol began to run out.  I am still learning how to throw a party, my social event skills having been seriously hampered by paying way too much attention to my career for the past 20 years.  Note to self:  Next time hire a teenager to help with organization and clean-up; make sure there are enough trash receptacles; have a mop handy; put the food further away from the kitchen (yes, here too people end up crowding the kitchen!); ditto the drinks. 

How lucky am I to have such friends?

Finally we were 8 mujeres from the base, a mixture of Spanish, American, Venezuelan, Puerto Rican, and Singaporese.  We took over the mikes and got out the guitar, I being unable to resist the opportunity to sing and play (no matter that I don’t practice enough).   By 4 am the clubs outside next to the castle had just reached peak subwoofer pump and were beckoning, but I still can’t quite keep up.  I declared the party a success…and went off to bed.   Here’s a salud to the next decade!

Singing with Barbie mikes