I know the song says, “Amarillo by morning, up from San Antone,” but on our tour across the South of Spain, I found myself singing “Marbella by morning, up from Fuengirola.”
It was a Friday morning, to be exact, when we boarded the big red bus for a ride to Marbella by the Mediterranean. The city is a seacoast town about halfway between Malaga and the Strait of Gibraltar. It is known as the Spanish playground of the rich and famous. When I saw the whitewashed Andalusian buildings, the trees dripping with Velencia oranges and the giant white letters that spelled out “Marbella” hanging above the cobblestone street, I somehow knew that good things lay beyond those letters. I was correct.
The city is said to have the most charming old-town distinct in Costa del Sol. Above the cobblestone streets were white plastered city walls with clusters of 60-70 bright blue flower pots attached to the sides of the walls. Each pot contained green plants with the brightest red geraniums I had ever seen.
Following those clusters of color led us to Plaza Square. Most of the ladies looked inside the numerous shoppes while we guys found an outdoor café serving coffee and churros. Churros might be the Spanish equivalent of our doughnut, but they are not round. They reminded me of crab legs, but they are actually oblong fried-dough pastries. They were about a foot long and served in a brown paper bag with the oil fighting to seep through the paper. They came with a cup of chocolate dipping sauce. They wash down well with a hot cup of cappuccino. You can’t eat more than a half dozen of the things, unless you order another bag full…which we might have.
As we waddled down the cobblestone, fully stuffed with churros and chocolate sauce, I thought our tour guide asked if we would like to see some “flamingo.” This poor little Alabama man thought he was talking about the long-legged pink birds that stand on one leg. He explained that it is a Spanish dance. I knew that (or maybe not). He said some of us could learn how to flamingo. I knew with all that fried dough inside me, if I was going have to dance, it certainly wouldn’t be on one leg. My sweet wife educated me, once again, that it was “flamenco,” not flamingo.
Flamenco is song, music and dance that originated in Southern Spain. It is often associated with the Roma Gypsies of Spain. The dancers often play tambourines, bells or castanets. Castanets are percussion instruments in the clapper family that look like hollowed out clam shells to me. They are actually two pieces of hard wood that the dancer attaches to her fingers and claps together as she dances. They are loud. I decided then and there if she asked for volunteers that I would volunteer…someone else.
About a dozen of our group volunteered, all on their own, to learn how to flamenco. Unbelievable, not one single guy was among that group. I worked off my churros just watching Jean and those ladies dancing.
I was ready for the next outdoor café. I was delighted to see empanadas on the menu. I had discovered those pies that contain an entire meal inside many years ago while on a mission trip in Paraguay. This place called theirs Empanadas Argentinos, but I figured that was close enough to Paraguay to be about the same.
After eating all that fried and baked dough that day, I was sure glad they had flamencoed. Is that even a word? It was indeed a great day!
Bill King can be reached at bkpreach@yahoo.com.
