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| Catching a glimpse of a mystery palace |
We’ve moved into this huge gorgeous palacio,
and all I want to do is to share it with everyone. Walking through the streets of Puerto, I
have hungered to know what lies behind the big blank walls that line the
sidewalks. Occasionally you get a
glimpse of an interior courtyard decked out with plants, the roof open to the
sky. But rarely do you get invited in to
see these marvels. Now I was living in
one.
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| What lies behind these walls? |
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| WE live behind these walls! |
When Lola told me she was getting married
and having trouble finding a place for the reception, my first response was to
offer the palacio. Lola is my flamenco
teacher, a dark-haired, sharp-witted gypsy-look-alike who dances with a grace I
can only dream about. Her class counts
double, as I learn both bulerias and Andalusian Spanish at the same time. Only it’s tough for me with the constant
banter competing with the keening of flamenco music as we warm up our wrists
and feet; even after 18 months of class, I can follow only the general gist of
conversation.
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| The star and her students |
It’s the special words and expressions that
confound me. Guasa sounded to me like the cellphone app WhatsApp, but it means
bugginess or daring, depending on context.
It took me a month to decode “cho-cho;” I realized right away that it
was some form of endearment, but every time Lola called me “cho-cho,” the other
women would howl with laughter. Turns
out “cho-cho” means “little pussy,” (and I’m not talking about a cat here).
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| Always joking around |
Lola is unapologetic. “I am who I am, and everybody knows it,” she says. “I say what I think, that’s how I am. But I love my students.” When a male friend of hers walked in and she greeted him with smiling "Ayyy, piiicha!!" (Hey, penis!), I realized she loved me just as much.
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| Some of Lola's beloved students |
So Lola needed a place for her
wedding. Hotel Monasterio down the
street was already booked, although she managed to get the stage for the
ceremony at noon. After deciding to host
the lunch at El Cortijo, a bodega close by, she asked if we could have the
“after” party at the palace. Sure, I
said, and Todd agreed.
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| In front of the alcalde |
And what a wedding it was. Only Lola could pull off something so
outrageous. At first, as she told
everyone, she just wanted to get married quietly at the Ayuntamiento (town hall).
Then her friends talked her into a lunch, and it quickly blossomed into
a full-blown event. Lola is a showperson
with natural stage presence: For her entrance down Puerto’s main street, she
did not want a car or a carriage. For
her, a tricycle decked out with balloons.
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| The grand entry |
Her dress was designed and tailored by her
friend and student Maria del Mar, a gorgeous flamenco-inspired work of
art. The mayor of Puerto came to Hotel
Monasterio to officiate, and at the end Lola stood up and sang to him, breaking
into a buleria and dancing the mayor across the stage.
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| Custom-designed by Maria del Mar |
At El Cortijo, Lola and her new husband
Francisco (Fran) entered the room throwing blue and yellow confetti in honor of
Cádiz, Lola’s birthplace. (She is, after
all, known as “Lola de Cai,” “Cai” being
Andaluz for Cádiz.) They sang Cádiz’s
anthem, with the crowd singing along.
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| Hail to Cadiz! |
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| Those who sing together...stay together! |
After a long and delicious 3-hour lunch, we
moved on to our palacio at 5:30 pm. And
that is where the fun really began. Lola
sings to us every class as we practice bulerias. The wedding crowd was packed not only with
her family but with her students. So it
was only natural that once the gin and tonics were poured, the dancing would
begin.
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| Lola in action |
And dance we did, round after round. Lola was at her best in her spectacular
flamenco attire, and the crowd was appreciative. The weather cooperated (mostly), raining in
the end only about 2 in the morning.
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| Fun with confetti |
As
guests slowly said their goodbyes and the music slowed down, Fran left to get
the car, and Lola and I stood in the entry, a sound-asleep baby Gonzalo in her
arms. “Te ha gustado?” she asked
me, already knowing the answer. “Did you
like it?” “Claro que si!” I responded,
and we laughed through the main events of the day, from my worry that I needed
to send Tia and Sasha behind her to push her on the tricycle, to the mayor’s
surprise at being danced across the stage, to the various performances of her
students that evening dancing the bulerias.
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| Lupe can dance... |
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| Óle tu, Celia! |
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| Even the guys got into it |
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| And even the americana danced! |
As I closed the door behind Lola and Fran,
an exhausted Gonzalo tucked into his carseat, I again felt a great wave of
gratitude towards Lola and Fran and Spain in general for making room for me in
their lives. Yet another reason why I
love it here, and why I may never come back!
(Just kidding! Sort of.)
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| My Lola |
