Flamenco, Restrained Passion

"Mom" my daughter said, "you need to exercise more. You walk like an old lady."

I walk like an old lady?!  Was that because I only walked 3 miles on a snowy road and the rest of the family continued into the woods? Or because I'm stiff and totter a bit when I first get out of bed? 

If I were going to pick up a new exercise regime, I think it might be flamenco dancing.  

1) Flamenco burns calories, works important muscle groups, and
2) even older gals get to dance with the cute young guys.  

in Granada, Spain

3) The costumes are a lot more fun than spandex and draw the eye away from mid-body lumps. The long skirt would hide my varicose veins.  Low heeled shoes with a strap are safe for any age.

4) You don't have to compare stats with anybody, for example miles walked or your time for the 10K.  Who's going to ask how many times your castanets clicked per minute?

5) Of course, you'll have to learn to play castanets, which are made from and named after, chestnuts. 

6) It's an art form of restrained passion--dark glances over the shoulder, the disdainful tilt of the chin, or arms extended in invitation to the beloved. That's more excitement than a brisk walk any day.

7) Complex hand clapping and flourishes of a fluid, fringed shawl add more  drama, and a few more micro-calories burned.

So when Susanna asks how my exercise program is coming, I'll tell her I'm committed to being a flamenco dancer. As soon as my lessons begin in Spain.

Do you have a fantasy exercise program? Do tell.

Here to There (Is Surry County in the same universe as Spain?)

I headed out for my walk today and couldn't help but contrast here with there. 

For the last two weeks I've been hoofing over pavement in Spain. There I sidled through jammed sidewalks,  strolled down tree-lined paseos,  or treaded carefully over river rocks  in medieval alleys.

Today I was alone on our country drive, rather than sharing crowded walkways. 

The breeze was moderate with a crisp tinge unlike ocean-tempered Barcelona or warm Granada.




The only color left in my yard was from leggy cosmos lying horizontal. Compared to the Alhambra, it isn't even a garden. 



Join me the next few weeks as I contrast bustling Barcelona to medieval Madrid to laid-back Granada. It will have to satisfy both of us until we book another trip.