Last night we went to the hotel restaurant for Tappas night. It’s a Spanish tradition, sort of canapés with wine, though there were also salads, omelettes and other goodies. We washed it all down with a half-bottle of Sangre de Toros (which bore no resemblance to the wine of the same name that we drink at home) and turned to watch a small trio tune up.
Consisting of a vocalist, a guitarist and a dancer, they soon broke into some spirited Flamenco rhythms. The dancer rose, strutted to the wooden dance floor and let rip with a clapping, stamping, swirling Flamenco dance. The rythmic music was furious, joyous and infectious. Hard to avoid clapping along and shouting “Ole!”. Now I understand the genre’s continuing popularity. The singer used his voice and clapping hands, the dancer threw herself into the music and the guitarist seemed to be using more than ten fingers.