How much is €9 worth in terms of Flamenco?

Although I say it myself, I'd planned out my Spain trip well, giving every place just as much time as I needed in it. The only exception was Granada, where had I stayed the night, I'd have been able to catch a Flamenco performance. Actually, the Andalucia area of Spain (Granada being part of it) is where Flamenco is supposed to have originated. To top it all, my Segway guide had shown me Venta El Gallo, saying it was the best place to see Flamenco. Just cause for me to be miffed at setting off to Valencia, instead of spending the night at Granada and going straight to Barcelona the next day? Yes, hindsight made me think so too. But my aim while booking the train tickets was to save the hotel expense for a night. I suppose you could replace that "miffed" with "a tad disappointed".

With Barcelona turning out to be such a bore, and me getting a discount having taken the City Sightseeing tour, what other choice did I have than ending my vacation with a gala Catalan Flamenco?

So when the Bus Turistic stopped near Las Ramblas, I rushed to Teatre Poliorama. By a very sweet lady who spoke great English, I was from there guided to Palau de la Música Catalana, where I could use my discount for the same night. In my mind, I'd pictured a Royal Opera House sell-out show, for which I'd have to shell out €100. If it had been so, I was determined to go the whole hog and get a dress, matching shoes and a trendy clutch-bag from Zara. Well yeah, haven't you heard of "throwing good money after bad"? In any case, one more dress and a pair of shoes never hurt a girl. Agreed that a clutch lying unused would be a shame, but if it was going to be a hundred-euro opera, I had to be dressed for it, hadn't I?

It turned out that a good seat costed €27 (after discount) and a place behind the performers came to €18. I was impressed the way the lady at the counter showed me both the seat as well as the view from there on a monitor facing me. The costlier one was surprisingly good, as even though it was quite a distance from the stage, there happened to be nothing directly in my line of vision. The cheaper was... well, it was behind the stage. I leave you to guess what I went for.

Either way, Zara missed a customer in me and I remained in my cargoes.

Night fell, and I re-entered Palau Música. There was a sharp intake - both of breath and of the modernista (a word that I heard every other minute in Barcelona, thanks to Antoni Gaudí) interiors of the Palace of Catalan Music. As I climbed the steps to the segundo piso, I felt vaguely uncomfortable at not having gone the Zara route. But there was nothing that could be done about it now; I mentally shrugged my inadequately draped shoulders.

The lights dimmed, the singers and musicians appeared, the audience clapped politely. Gradually, the lights on the stage also dimmed and the dancers trooped in wearing unexpectedly simple costumes. They danced quite well and exited the stage. Leaving the musicians to unleash the magic all on their own. There were two male singers, between who sat a female singer. To their right were a percussionist and two guitarists. All three musicians were young and something hot. (They were Spanish - need anything more be said?!) But all said and done, music without dance isn't my cuppa tea. Then entered a solo dancer and tapped her feet and twirled her arms looking, for all intents and purposes, like a gazelle clothed in green, but I still wasn't getting my money's worth.

Suddenly to my (and I think most of the spectators') surprise, the female singer walked into the spotlight, began to sing, and dance! We all know how difficult it is to do both at the same time, but she managed it with élan, and to a resounding applause. For good reason too, as it wasn't just a middle-aged lady having a shot at something practised years ago. It was (from what I could tell) as good Flamenco as the three young dancers' - only it was a much shorter piece ensconced within the larger vocal routine.

After the multi-tasker had returned to her seat, came the other dancer in a dress that must have made the entire female audience swoon with delight. It was pink, had a tail and the way the dancer had it about her, reminded me of a tulip in half-bloom - spectacular! But that was just the beginning. I was wondering how she could possibly tap dance with that kind of a dress on, and figured it would only be a series of elaborate - and slow - steps. But my reasoning was shattered into smithereens each time she delicately swooped the dress away with her leg when it came in her way. Ummm... let me rephrase. Playing with the tail of the dress seemed as much part of the dance as the fan <more swooning!> was. Ooooh, "heavenly" falls meaninglessly short of describing the spectacle! Thunderous applause.

I couldn't help feeling the male dancer was short-changed in his attire. It wasn't even the puffy-sleeved dress that I'd seen in 'Alex & Emma'. A very staid three-piece suit, albeit sparkling, did nothing to match the drama which the gowns of the female dancers thrust upon them. I watched him effortlessly overcome this handicap. You see, the dancers were not standing directly on the stage, but on a slab placed on the floor. When the man danced, we, perforce, had to notice that the whole slab was made of six segments, each of which when tapped emanated a different note. He did nothing much with his arms (I vaguely remember him with just his hands on his hips, at times [un]buttoning his jacket), but somehow got us to focus all our attention on his movements from one slab-segment to the other, producing an effect underlined by the absence of any other music.

Standing ovation - and if it weren't such a posh place, I'm sure there would have been calls for an encore and bouquets flying towards the stage!!!

Another dance with all three of them was the final piece. I need to tell you that when they bowed to the audience, they didn't forget the ones in €18 seats behind them!

It all lasted an hour and a half and I wanted to take a tube back to my hotel. Before signing off this set of posts, I have to share one more incident with you - on How I Lost €1.45 To The Barcelona Metro Because It Thinks Everyone Is A Left-hander. I had bought a single ticket, inserted it in the slot and tried to walk through the turnstile at the left of the slot (which is how gates in London and all other cities with a metro operate). Nothing happened. I then saw another couple facing the same problem. The lady was left-handed and automatically tried the stile on the right. She mentioned this to her husband, who had been doing it my way in vain. Unfortunately, since our single tickets had already been passed through the slots, it would not allow us re-entry. We had to get another one. Pshaw!!

In effect, this isn't just a blog on €9, but €10.45.