Filed under: travel
We moved from our grand country residence into a small flat that was straight out of a 70’s porn flick, complete with wall-to-wall mirrors, orange and green glass vases and lamps that pop out of the cabinets, for last-minute mood lighting requirements. It had little hot water and no internet. After a few days it became apparent I wasn’t going to be able to do my work from there, so I started considering alternatives.
Around this time we ended up in a flamenco shop in Zalamea la Real one evening, where as the only foreign female present I was obliged to get decked out in head-to-toe flamenco gear. I felt ridiculous and could barely walk (it didn’t help the shoes were a size too small), but I appreciated the dedication and passion the store exuded. The flamenco bug is pervasive and persistent. A couple of days later I booked a week’s flamenco dancing and Spanish lessons, and another apartment in Seville.
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