Festival Day 3: Pixie Dust

Today was all about bata class. I felt good there — reasonably confident and not terrified like I am in Pastora’s jaleo class. No, in bata, even though there are some great dancers around me, I can hold my own and stand up front next to Olga without fear of making a complete fool of myself. Plus I think Olga is cool.

She trips me out, really. I don’t know how to explain it but it’s like she’s otherworldly — not in the space-cadet sense, but in the who-is-this-magical-creature-and-where-did-she-come-from-? sense.

She speaks only Spanish in class, so it’s not like I can chit-chat with her, but I can understand some and she’s adorably expressive when she explains things to us. And when she stops everything to demonstrate how it should be done … damn! It’s just so fast and crisp, you almost don’t see it. Sometimes I can’t take my eyes off her. (Wait, that’s not weird, is it?). I’m just hoping that a tenth of a speck of her flamenca pixie dust will fly off her and land on me before I leave here.

Tonight Olga and company performed their show “Rosa, Metal y Ceniza.” I loved it. It was so … her. Modern, experimental, technically sound, magical. She worked the heck out of the manton, and I was was so happy to see her bata outside our workshop. Oh, and another unexpected treat: One of her guitarists is female. This whole performance spoke to me.

How lucky am I to spend seven days with her? That’s pretty magical in itself.

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