Talking Location With… author William Rose – ANDALUCIA

26th July 2019

#TalkingLocationWith… William Rose, author of ‘Camille and the Raising of Eros’

Andalusia, the South of Spain. What comes to mind? Flamenco perhaps. That might be the first thought. And colours, bright in the heat of the Summer sun, and gypsies and great cathedrals. The bull fight too. And the clothes; those frilled dresses, red, yellow or blue, some with the big polka dots – flamenco type dresses that you still see worn in the streets when there is an occasion to celebrate. In Andalusia there are many celebrations: the ferias, the festivals that come around and round again, never failing, and each town and city having its own specialities, both religious and secular.

And there is the leather: Spanish boots and bags and belts, wallets and purses; the shops full of the brown and the black and the coloured shades and the familiar, rich smell of the material.

I first went to Andalusia looking for flamenco. I had known it well in London where there are many resident Spanish performers of great skill and a following of aficionados and fans, many of whom go to dance classes hosted by splendid teachers. In Andalusia flamenco is everywhere and there is plenty to see, but don’t always choose the first thing you find. A flamenco dance should be long; long enough for great moments to happen. They don’t always, but given the driving force of the dance, the potential for the innovation and inspiration of a movement of the body, and flamenco is not just about the feet, then there can be a moment, perhaps extended, when the dancer becomes the source and the expression of fluid, creative liberty. But a dance will need to build to this. Floor shows at restaurants may not always offer the opportunity or the atmosphere. Look for special venues, where the residents may go, the Peña Flamencain the town or city.

After several trips to Andalusia something else took over from flamenco, so that now I might even skip the dancing. I fell in love with the whole thing; the culture in all its aspects, and now it is my pleasure just to walk, stand, drink and eat, absorbing the total experience. And what moves me most is the tradition. The continuation of a cultural being that shows that there is something that is known to be worth having and preserving. There are other places in the world that have this, but Andalusia is where I find it and to where I return for more supplies. The source of it, I believe, and the adhesive that binds and preserves, is religion and the Catholic Church.

I am not a Catholic and I have no religious doctrine to espouse, but I am grateful that so many in Andalusia are and I find it a privilege to visit their enormous ancient cathedrals, with the spectacular artefacts and sculptures, sometimes wonderfully gaudy, sometimes simply beautiful.

Throughout the 13^th, 14^thand 15^thcenturies, the Christian monarchs drove the Moors out of Southern Spain. There had been much toeing and froing before then, but from then on it was a Catholic country and the cathedrals were built to mark the change. In Córdoba there was a magnificent Islamic mosque and in its centre they built a cathedral, so now there is one within the other and a multitude of red and white Moorish arches remain, radiating out through the huge structure. It is called the Mezquita. And all around in Andalusia there are the remains, the mementoes, of the Islamic rule, and these are not merely signs of the past but are part of the visual pleasure of the present.

And through the narrow streets of the old centres of the cities wind the festival processions. I like my visits to coincide with the feast of Corpus Christi which can vary between late May and June. I walk along the side of the procession feeling the kind of thrill I had as a child following the brass bands with their drummers playing and marching through the streets of London. It actually used to happen there. It will surely always continue in Andalusia.

Full bands, not only of brass, but with woodwinds too and the many drums, large and small. Sometimes the bands are military, sometimes not, but all is with a pride and pleasure in an event that is more than just communal as it gathers not only the shared experience of the moment, but also the collective inheritance of a history.

The long processions move slowly and cautiously through the narrow streets, with the huge structure that is carried from the cathedral and upon which rests the monstrance with its holy sacrament. There are the musicians, the priests and the nuns, the young children, perfectly dressed and excited, the ordinary people walking behind, many of them singing.

In Granada, I have made friends with, Naemi a photographer who has the Inori gallery and shop up in the Sacromonte area where there are the gypsy caves and the splendours of the Alhambra palace and gardens nearby. What a location!

In Córdoba I have marvelled at the ancient Mezquita mosque with its Christian Cathedral within and can still smell the sprigs of rosemary that are spread over the streets for the processions.

Beautiful Ronda has the old part and the new divided by a deep and sheer canyon. It is in a mountainous area and one side of the city ends on the edge of a cliff face from where you can see the landscape drifting off into the mountains beyond. The eagle owls that live in the cliffs reply to the whistles of humans with weird echoing cries. I saw the most beautiful rainbow as I had supper, high up, looking out over the plains.

Magnificent Seville (Sevilla) is famous for its vitality and is the capital and the most famous city in Andalusia. On one visit I made a special trip to the deeply revered Virgin of Macarena at the Basilica de la Macarena. She is known as the protector of bullfighters and the patron of Spanish Gypsies. The great matador Joselito gave her the five diamond and emerald brooches that she wears upon her dress.

I have loved Baeza for its calm intimacy. You can find a wonderful clip of a Baeza procession on YouTube.

Cádiz, bright and sparkling, is built on a thin finger which sticks out into the sea so that it is almost surrounded by water. On one side its community of cats live wild amongst the boulders that keep the ocean at bay. On the other side is golden sand. From Cadiz comes typically the Alegrías, one of the happiest of flamenco forms.

In Almeria, I was amazed on the night of La Noche en Blanco as it seemed that the whole city was dancing in the streets.

These are just a few of the pleasures. In my novel, I especially used my memories of the Corpus Christi processions in Córdoba, and of my times in Seville with its many convents. In Córdoba I bought sweets from the Carmelite nuns, delivered through a little rotating partition, lest we see each other. The Carmelites are in my novel and are amongst the most reclusive of nuns. Also, in the novel is the Guadalquivir, the great, fat, lazy river that drifts past Seville, making its ancient way through the heartland of Andalusia and then reaching the Gulf of Cádiz, and out into the Atlantic.

Thank you so much to William for sharing such lovely parts of Andalucia. You can buy his novel – Camille and the Raising of Eros through the TripFiction database.

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