On perfection

My new mattress is so comfortable. I also got the same pillow from home and it made an amazing difference. The back pain is receding and I'm very glad. In other news, my heating is broken :( The fight goes on!

In bata de cola class with La Choni. Photo: Ángel Cachón/CAFS

Ten days ago I started to feel very trapped again. I didn't understand why, I thought the crisis of self-doubt and self-pressure was over. I had come back from my holidays, fully determined to be relaxed and enjoy my second trimester of dancing.

The thing is, you cannot make yourself relax. 

The very heavy schedule (I spend up to 6-9 hours at school every day, always till 9pm except on Fridays), the homework, all the things that are still left to learn, and the apartment situation were getting to me. I hadn't been dancing two weeks and already I was feeling exhausted and unmotivated. I sat down to think about what was going on and realized that I was beating myself up about not being perfect again. 

Some part of me thinks I should be able to do it all. To get steps and movements right away and perform them effortlessly. To have the time to do every day what every teacher tells us to do each day. That means: 

• do ballet floorwork and warm-ups
• practice technique footwork
• practice turns
• practice singing
• practice percussion and palmas
• practice bata de cola
• listen to as much singing as possible
• watch the great masters on video
• go watch shows
• practice castanets
• do sit-ups and crunches to train abs
• do my stretching
• eat healthy
• get enough sleep!

I try to pack that list in a day, even though it's the work of a lifetime. Ha!

I often hear that's it's very important to learn about the history and background of flamenco in order to reach a level that would be called "professional". The thing is, I will never grasp and feel flamenco in the same way than someone who has been born into it and heard and practiced it their entire life. And, learning flamenco is the work of a lifetime. It's not only a technique of dancing. It's an art form with a music genre with complex rhythm patterns encompassing over 80 different styles. It's the tradition and culture of an entire of society here in Spain. 

That part of me is constantly barking that only if I know and understand Flamenco the way Spaniards do, only when my body will have reached a certain level of technique, speed, balance, flexibility and coordination - only then will it be perfect. And only perfection counts. 

But this is my year off and I came here to enjoy myself. And, I don't want to become a professional. Maybe if I put 15 years of hard work and dedication into it, i could pull it off. But that's not what I want, and I have to keep reminding me this. I've dedicated a lot of my life to others skills, and that's also who I am. It's so easy to forget who you are and where you come from, spending so many hours per day around professionals of one single art from.

So I'm trying to get back in touch myself. I want to enjoy being at school, enjoy the learning process, be relaxed and happy. It's working better now. My perfectionist voice keeps barking all them time and I am slowly learning to dialogue with it. That's a good start.

Dealing with discomfort

On Saturday night I hung up some clean laundry on the rooftop. The sky was starry and clear. I awoke on Sunday morning to the sound of pouring rain. My clothes, of course, were drenched. I spin-dried them once more, and hung them up after the sky had cleared. And they got rained on again!

I'm feeling like those clothes right now: Wanting so hard to get dry, and getting rained on constantly.

My first week back in town has been interesting. School is taking all of my time and energy. We have a couple of new subjects: Dancing with the mantón (fringe shawl), playing percussion on the cajón and learning rhythms with palmas (hand clapping). I'm in school every day till 9pm (except on Fridays).

I'm loving almost every single class I take, it's never boring. But it's hard on my body.

Living in an old Sevillan house in the historical center means living with a reduced level of comfort. And I'm having more trouble dealing with that than I thought I would. My minimally equipped kitchen is so tiny I can barely turn around in it. There's no heating except for a small electrical oven which heats the air directly in front of it. It's humid and cold. Towels don't dry well. There is practically no water pressure in the shower. I dread the day I'm standing all soaped under the shower and gas in the bottle runs out! Toilets and faucets are runny and waste water. Paint is crumbling off the walls. There is no vacuum cleaner, here in Spain they use brooms and mops. It's hard to get the place clean. 

The worst thing is the bed. My back aches badly because of it. I blocked it hard last July and is has not healed well due to crappy Spanish beds. I can deal with all other discomforts, but I'm tired of being constantly in pain. I will stay in this apartment till the end of March, so I had to find a solution.

So today I took a regional bus out of town to IKEA to buy a new mattress. I loved doing that, usually people take their car so it's tricky to get there on foot. I enjoyed walking around the store and looking at all the familiar furniture and kitchen and bed stuff. I bought some little things to improve my kitchen and feel more at home. Right now I'm waiting for my mattress to be delivered to my house. I really really hope it helps improve my back pain!

I don't want to feel ungrateful, I realize I have many things. My apartment also has its perks. But it's funny how the body reacts. I feel like I had to cross the ocean swimming and not be allowed to hold on to anything. When one cannot relax anywhere, one starts to feel very ill and exhausted and there is nothing to be done. I finally would like to start to relax.

On that note, a photo taken from the rooftop and a beautiful song from a beautiful guitarist to remind me and you:

Back in town

Just flew back in today. The last two and a half weeks have been just wonderful. I went home and saw all my loved ones. It was warm and clean, I was embraced and loved and at rest and at peace. I cooked and ate good food and got lots of sleep. Home is a good place. Thank you so much to everyone who made this holiday so special for me!

Some impressions of my holidays:

I spent 5 days in a place with a sweeping view over my town:

A few days later, I boarded the train to see my grandparents.

My grandmother made me homemade apple cakes:

We spent two days working on a 1000-piece puzzle:

Outside, it was snowing.

Now I'm back in Sevilla, where the sky is blue, the sun is shining and the temperature is 20 degrees Celsius in the afternoon. My apartment, however, is much colder than that! I haven't thought any flamenco thoughts for over two weeks. My brain and body are ready for another intense three months. The schedule is more crowded than ever (24 weekly hours of class). There is nothing left to do but launch myself into the next trimester and do nothing else but dance, eat and sleep. 

I'm ready for it.