Couchsurfing helps travelers meet up or stay with local people.
I was very lucky with my host in Sevilla
Rafael or Rafa, not only let me crash on his couch
But was also a flamenco aficionado
I wanted to do a story on flamenco
So we headed to the suburb of Triana
On the far side of the river
As we cruised the narrow laneways
I wondered why it was always on the other side of the tracks
That interesting art forms emerge
Dancers come from all corners of the world to learn flamenco in Sevilla
Asa Danielson from Sweden, quit her job at home
And decided to pursue her dream of spending a year
in Sevilla to learning flamenco
I asked Asa what it was she loved about the dance formI love the way I can express my emotions and feelings
frustration, pity, sadness, happiness, sensuality
I think Flamenco takes you how you are,
as a person, whoever you are
ugly, beauty, old, clever, young, fat, thin
There is respect to you.
You can be who you are,
itOs something that helps you,
and everybody supports you with cheering and clapping.
You can be proud of you,
itOs something wonderful.
The Spanish use a term called duende
To explain the pinnacle of artistic endeavor
That moment audience and performer
Feel a special force
Elena Moro Roman, an Australian of Spanish Background
Returned to the homeland of her parents
To fulfil her dream of becoming a flamenco dancer
I asked Elena, what duende meant for her
WellE Duende, I think is something you have inside,
when IOm dancing I feel some kind of energy,
like a power that comes from your soul and explodes
and I feel it very much.
Duende is universal,
but in FlamencoOs world itOs very special,
It comes from inside and goes out,
itOs incredible.
I understand this duende,
I constantly chase it dark shadows
That strong feeling that great art brings,
the joy of tears,
that tight feeling in the chest.
I hunt it constantly in the art of others
And live for its precious moments in my own art.
Our very weakness is our strength
Art can be ugly
Art can be sad
It can cut like the blade of a knife
Duende is a secretive beast
It avoids the glare of commerce
with itOs bubblegum pop selling face.
It is strongest in those that have suffered
Those mad dogs of glory
The gypsies, roaming endlessly
The nails of jesusOs cross
Scorching in their saddlebags
The irish disapora, longing for
The emerald green of home
Robert Johnson at the crossroads
Summoning the demon earth spirit
To sing the songs of slaves
I felt a need to move,
to dance the song of my own land
The arrival in chains, the scum of all countries
A land to pillage, a land to own
To drink and scoff in disbelief,
If this is hell, its vistas sunny!
I felt the sadness of my own frailty
Of the pointlessness of it all,
of the very passing of time
one must lay bare ones humanity
The murky depths of our dark ancestry
To crawl amongst the piss and blood and shit.
To know of death,
and yet seize this very moment
To laugh in the face of impermanance.
And feel,
and feel the pain,
and feel alive.
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