CINCO FLAMENCO

 

Blenheim Palace

Pinky's fifth year was an emotional roller coaster.  I reluctantly agreed to move back to New York, just as I was finding my groove in London.  I had learned to laugh quietly (a big deal as all heads had turned in my direction when I used my loud belly laugh), leave "like" out of my sentences, shoot down the anti-American remarks in a seemingly gentle way but not actually, and learned to appreciate the courteous behavior that kept everything running smoothly.  I also found that when an Englishman finally lets you into his life you get his loyalty forever.  This is probably why it takes so long, they are careful in their commitments.  I am flattered that I passed their tests and love my English friends with all my heart.

During the spring we had taken a trip to the south of Spain; Marbella, Granada, Sevilla and Cordoba.  Pinky had seen a performance of flamenco before we left and loved it.  When she actually got to be up close in little restaurants with spontaneous performances she became obsessed with the dance.  This became pretty amusing.  We would sit down to eat, a guitarist would start a gypsy melody and Pinky would spring up from the table and join him, doing her version of the traditional art.  In her mind she was the flash and drama of a maestra, in reality it resembled a strange clogging dance with a lot of windmilling arm action. We are incredibly grateful to the Spanish people for loving children.   She had a real moment of glory when we took her to the café of a flamenco school in Granada.  The students performed, then during the breaks the younger sisters of the students would hop onto the stage and free form.  When Pinky saw this she grabbed my large floral scarf, wrapped it around herself as a skirt (very clever) and joined in.  Pure bliss.  This dissertation will make sense later.

The move home was wrenching.  

Supergirl in Action at Blenheim

England was home for Pinky.  She loved her school.  Eric, her best friend, came to play every afternoon and they had a very serious fantasy going on as Superman and Supergirl.  They used any large rectangular cloth object  to fashion a cape and rushed around "flying" and fighting crime.  Her legions of relatives doted on her and she on them.  I knew she would be making a big adjustment.  

                                                              NEW YORK

My solution to this was to enroll her in flamenco classes at the 14th St Y.  One of my old friends, Shauna, was an accomplished dancer and taught children's flamenco classes there.  Not only was she a wonderful teacher but my insider track let Pinky be there a year earlier than was allowed.  She made some lovely friends (one had the prettiest name, Luna) as did I, and even though her moves were improvisational she did well.  We both learned to use the castanets which is a great tool for annoying people around you, I have discovered.

Class Recital Luna on Left

I am so glad that she had this little life jacket because the adjustment was indeed difficult.  She had an English accent, English manners, and English clothes.  Because of the English no-nonsense educational system she was way ahead of her age group academically.  NY schools had stopped putting advanced students ahead of their grade, instead were holding strugglers back.  This meant that she had to spend a year in nursery school with many students a year older than she before getting a real education.  Instead of reading, math, science, music, French, and homework she had blocks, sandbox, finger paint and picture books.  The children and teachers made fun of her English accent and vocabulary; because she was polite she would let other children go ahead of her to the block area and never got a chance to play there.  This led to a low mark from the teachers.  The worst moment of all came when the teachers decided she needed to know that Superman and Supergirl weren't real and took it upon themselves to enlighten her with the entire class chiming in.  I hated that school and was so happy when she got to move on to her K-12 school.

The flamenco class was definitely the brightest moment in the week, and she gradually made friends at the nursery school so things lightened up.  The year progressed and I learned that you had to invite the entire class to the birthday party.  I was whining about this to Shauna and she volunteered to dance as the exciting entertainment.  What a genius idea!  It would combine Pinky's two worlds and show the nursery school crowd something new and exotic.

Shauna made the plan, said she would bring a guitarist and a dance partner.  She made Pinky a beautiful dress as her birthday present, and I included  her dance buddies in the party.  This theme set me on fire and I used the polka dots that are common to Spanish traditional dress to dictate the party decorations.  It looked great!  


                                                                                             

Fabulous Shauna

I got a pinata, a cake decorated with a dancer, lemonade and cool party bags.  Twenty-five children said yes and I knew I was actually ready with a perfect party plan.  I figured the dance performance would take about an hour, then cake and ice cream, pinata, and Pass the Parcel would finish off my two hour time frame. I was very pleased with myself.

PRIDE GOETH BEFORE DESTRUCTION

All were assembled and silent as the fantastic stomping, swirling performance started.  This was a revelation for the five year olds - that there was actually an approved of  exercise that required banging, stamping, chattering castanets and drama.  It was a great start, then Shauna and her friends had Pinky join them, the guitarist played a gypsy version of Happy Birthday to You and the trio danced enthusiastically to much applause.  The ensemble gave a group bow and melted into the crowd.  I cantered happily into the kitchen to start food prep and glanced at the digital clock on the stove.

It was a scene from a Hitchcock film.  The clock got bigger and bigger as I realized the performance had taken 15 minutes.  I had asked the crowd to come from two to four.  I had to fill in forty-five empty minutes!!!!  I hustled the food to the tables praying for twenty minutes of grazing, God gave me five.  As we cleared that production up the twenty-five children started to get restive.  My husband rushed out with the pinata.  As everyone else knows, the pinata is virtually indestructible.  I didn't know that.  I hadn't seen one since childhood when they made them from plaster of paris and shattered easily. The party-ers took turns beating and beating and beating it with no results.  Children were getting a little savage, also my frail parents in-law were within whacking distance.  My husband didn't notice that he had positioned the action a mere two feet from the sofa they lounged on.  They trustingly watched the bat get closer and closer (more Hitchcock, more cocktails)....thank goodness an intelligent friend jumped in and slammed the stuffed donkey to the floor creating a lunatic fight for candy.  I NEVER did that again.  And guess what?  that took about five minutes.  They played Pass the Parcel, maybe seven minutes.  

There was still an hour left, so I did the Forbidden For a Reason last ditch plan: opening presents in front of guests.  I managed to retrieve some more time but not enough.  They went crazy, it was Lord of the Flies.  The few adults looked at me like I would take care of it and poured themselves festive alcoholic beverages.  The little demons were everywhere in the tiny apartment.  The boys were standing on the swaying rocking horse, the girls arguing over the presents. I started praying to new gods and finally one of them heard me.  I was sent a pair of type A get there early parents who rang the doorbell and took over the crazy.  At long last they all left.  

I thought ten hours had gone by but it was only two;  I poured myself that festive beverage,
size XXXL.  

Lesson Learned:  Don't make any party longer than an hour and a half until they are over twenty-one.
I love opening the presents after the guests leave.  There's no awful moment of envy or shame for not bringing something grand, no distress about re-gifting or duplication, and it gives the receiver the opportunity to learn how to write a thank you note.  All good.  

Vodka tastes very good with pink lemonade. 

Pass the Parcel is a version of Hot Potato and you have to be watchful so that every child is guaranteed a prize, or else.

Old Fashioned Plaster Piñata directions

Pass the Parcel in Action