I lied about the last post bit. Last night we tried to attend a flamenco show but it was sold out. We semi-befriended the bartender with our foreign antics and broken speech, he’s a funny guy, reminds me of someone but louder. We attempted to go again tonight, and as it was right next door, we got there at a prompt 10:30 PM for the midnight show. Apparently, everything here is last minute. We were not allowed to buy tickets until 10 minutes before the show, much like we were not allowed to know which train or plane to board until 15-20 minutes before boarding. Que es esto?
While my sister flirted with some gitano (gyspy) guitar player, this female flamenco dancer was all up against me while ordering some tapas. Goodness to God, she was a classy broad, her twirls and doing an impromptu dance for us. My heart beat the music of a one-winged butterfly. It was amor. All over the place. Dirty. Flamenco is awesome and what’s more, it’s awesomer in Madrid. Happy dreams for at least the next twenty thousand nights. Drink some more, it is good to have lots of beer. Helps with the jet lag, so I hear.
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More Canadians! And two American servicemen currently stationed in Germany.