Feria Pregame

As the semester progresses, I find more and more reasons to appreciate the rich and comprehensive Spanish education I had in high school. I've arguably learned more in high school (Spanish-wise) than college, and I owe it all to the wonderful teacher I had my junior and senior years. She's retired now, but she's Nina, she's a big deal (High school friends? Do you exist? Can you attest?). Growing up in El Salvador, I'm not sure how she learned so much about Andalucía. I also don't know how she ended up being fluent in four languages, ended up in Spain's cultural olympics in the 70s and went on a date with Harrison Ford. I need to email this woman. 


Anyway, as Feria de Abril approaches in a month, my señora and her neighbors and all of her friends thought it would be fruitful, and a smashing good time, to have a party that is similar to what goes on at Sevilla's famous Feria. It's basically a bunch of what Spaniards do best: eat, drink, dance, sing, drink and then a bunch of times over again. My señora dances all the time and of course sings, so she lent me one of her dresses for our little fiesta:

Flamenco dresses are heavy and flowy, making dancing a very colorful affair. Between the shawl and red ruffles on the bottom, there was just yellow and red flying everywhere. Everyone dances Sevillanas, a four part flamenco dance. See, this is why Nina is cool: the last weeks of my senior year of high school were spent learning this dance. Good thing for me three years later it came to fruition. Thus, I got some brownie points and knocked everyone's socks off with my stellar duende and flamenco skillz (not so much). 

Everyone sang and danced and ate and drank and played guitar and castanets and woah. My host sister plays the guitar, so after flamenco music, she was strumming to a few Sean Paul songs. And then reggaeton played instead of cante jondo for an hour or so.  

Between food, drinks and music, a majority of the people who came (who didn't already live in building) left around 7:30. I jumped at the occasion to change my clothes, yet when I came back I found everyone trying new wines and telling jokes. All the jokes were in pretty poor taste, or at least the ones I understood were. Yep, Spaniards, just like us. 

I learned some great vocab, if anything. We ended up leaving around 9:30, only to return at 11 to eat dinner. My señora was roaring with laughter the whole time because her dress especially accented her butt, also she claims she's flat as a board. I had such a wonderful video of her and Antonio, her husband, dancing, but Nikon is disappointing me again. Worst decision ever. 

It was a day of realizing that my host family has truly been the best part of Sevilla. They make the effort to be sure that I really am a part of their family; it's a good feeling.