So I am a little late with my entry in to the Novice Gardener’s first challenge, called Fiesta Friday. I am a follower of the Novice Gardener’s blog and dribble regularly at the savoury creations that seem far from novice and nothing to do with gardening either. So as such I felt it ‘right & proper’ to support her in her 1st hosting of a challenge.
However, what went wrong?
Oh goodness me, I was assured that Fiesta Friday would be all about everything, but upon peeking at the entries I see food gods and goddesses entries all over the place, yet again making me dribble but also hide in to a corner thinking “well I ain’t a food goddess, my fiesta is way out of the box and far away from anything to do with cooking”, so let’s hide! However, the Novice Gardener has tempted me out, assuring me that my entry will be welcomed and find a lovely home at the party. So, if any of you laugh at my piece, I shall point you soundly at the Novice Gardener and say “told you so!” 😛
So where do we start?
The word fiesta takes me back to my summer holidays as a child, when I would be packed off to spend time with my father who happened to be living in Spain, developing a modern complex of apartments, which happened to be down the road from a very traditional village called Benahavis. Benahavis is a Spanish mountain village situated between Marbella, Estepona, and Ronda, seven kilometers from the coast. Renowned for its restaurants, it is often called the dining room of the Costa del Sol and oh boy it really was. (Nostrils flare in remembrance).
This is where no doubt I developed my enthusiasm for horses, flamenco, dark swarthy men (not sweaty though!), langoustines, garlic, castanets, churros and wine. I might add that things like my love of wine was at a later age, yes my father lived there for a while, I did not drink as a child! Note I miss out my enthusiasm for dark swarthy men not being at a later age, I am afraid Ladies and Gentlemen that developed that at a very early age indeedy.
So let’s move on please
Many a time when I was there, the local village had a fiesta. One of my father’s girlfriends bought me my first flamenco dress, it was a pretty blue with white spots and pink tassly bits. She also tried to pierce my ears much to my mother’s horror and immediate lack of permission all the way back from the UK. I also had white shoes with little heels and I ‘was’ now a flamenco dancer at the tender age of about 7, or so I thought.
We would go up to the village, have some churros, watch the dancers, listen to the music, embrace the buzz and somewhere along the line the adults would go and dine in some lovely restaurant of which I was lucky enough to partake in. Most of the restaurants had open sides, i.e. where the windows were so you could look out and see what was going on.
Now you have some background, please lets go to the fiesta
Listen to some music please, a variety provided below
Look at some of the pictures, focus on one you like
Please read ‘The Dance’ and try to place yourself there 😉
Slender fingers tipped by shiny red nails snaked around the slightly rattly doorknob of her front door as flashes of crimson fabric came in to sight layered over limbs as one toned leg was placed before the other, taking her towards the Fiesta as if some magical force drew her near. The taste of sweet sherry still tingling upon her tongue giving a warm glow upon shimmery olive cheeks, framed by jet black glossy hair pulled tightly up in to a chignon, secured with a silken rouge flower whose petals folded open as if blossoming with her energy.
Cardinal dancer’s shoes passed over the cobblestones leading her to the commotion of fanfare. The fiesta was in full swing, musicians perched precariously upon chairs strumming at musical strings, the smell of sugary churros smoothing over nostrils as the sound of children’s delight hit her heavily hooped earlobes. Chatter from restaurants could be heard, the smell of garlic and clanking of glasses giving telling tale of merry engagements forging friendships new and bonding ones of past.
Seeking jade eyes shadowed by long glossy lashes cast upon the energetic furor as fingers smoothed over castanets, stringing the loops to secure over digits ready to join with a “clack clack” of seasoned musicians. Tongue swept over glossy red lips, brazen in colour as drawn breath caused a strain upon her russet dress, breasts swelled as if to see the frivolity.
The music was intoxicating, arms spiraled like a magicians snake skywards, wooden instruments clacking expertly between fingers as heels rose and lowered, stamping against well worn stones, she was now dancing amongst the others, blending through the periphery, seeping in to the middle of the crowd as eyes searched longingly flickering over tips of heads.
Music seeped in to the very core of the señorita, flickering a fire in to every nerve ending, blood engulfed in commanding notes driving through muscles, each pore stretching open giving glimmering goosebumps over warm tanned skin. Swathes of fabric seemed to come alive clinging to womanly hips as rustles of fabric flicked at calves as if tempting more movement.
She was lost for moment, searching for whatever or whoever it was seemingly the last thing on her mind. A rainbow of crimson lashed out at the other dancers from spinning limbs, their performances primed to perfection by classes, not having the natural instincts of this señorita as primal sensations caressed each arm and leg rousingly.
Head bowed submissively yet her body moved with confidence, fingers stopping for just a moment, one arm drawing down glowing body to crush the brazen fabric, tugging as one thigh become exposed against the warm Spanish air, infused with a heady combination of aromas, the crickets indicating dusk nearing trying to compete with the music rubbing their legs in fury.
Many a young man watched from the sidelines, inexperience showing in their eyes and movements as they nudged one another, lubricating merry throats perhaps enough to cause a drunken song later, but the dancing was left for the grown men present, those who like her would work the music, not drawn to it, but commanding it with their masculinity, drawing in the females of their choosing within the dancing parade.
Jade eyes flashed open upon one specific sound, there was an unmistakable sharp staccato sound, more pronounced than the others, and it was him, surely? Clammy hand upon exposed thigh rose, unsure where to go, lost, searching, distracted from the call of the music as fingertips clamped around silken petals, it falling from its bounds as he approached it tumbling before shiny flamenco shoes of her hearts forbidden desire.
Time stood still a moment, flushed breasts swelling and rising as breath remained fixed within her lungs, he lowered, retrieving lost adornment, rising upright with what seemed a twitch of a smile hidden by shadow from wide dark hat, his eyes if seen dark and mesmerizing. She waited, rising bowed head to look with slightly inclined chin “was he going to give her flower back?” came pressing thoughts, the answer given in one click of his fingers and stamp of foot.
She jumped, gasping as he started to clap his hands, eyes of jealousy spun upon her from females around as the delicious morsel of a female spun in to action dancing now, just for him!
Sorry but now we return to me 🙂
Please go back to when I was a child, in my dress, watching from the restaurant window the fiesta and dancing, there was a shout “Justine, Justine” the words getting louder and louder “what is she doing leaning out of that window and not answering me? came my father’s booming voice. “#she’s watching the fiesta” said his girlfriend, she seems transfixed on one of the dancers” the tone indicating a smile came with those words. My dream was suddenly shattered as I came back to reality, drawing my eyes away from the dancer, down to my dress, the arms of a child, the flat chest, I was no longer ‘her’, I was now back to being a 7yr old girl, the moment was lost. Tears sneaked to moisten rims of eyes but dared go no further “are you alright?” asked the girlfriend “yes, just daydreaming, that’s all” I answered whilst being lead away to go back and join the adults.
Today is the 19th of February and finally I found some of the photos I had been searching for, they are grainy as old, but of me when younger in my one and only flemanco dress I ever owned! As soon as I put it on, I WAS that exotic, electrifying flamenco dancer 🙂
One day, one day I thought!
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