The lights dimmed and looking on to the stage there were only three items, a box, a skirt, and what appeared to be luggage. Looking stage left, the guitarist is seated just out of the view, tuning his guitar and prepping for the starlet to take the stage. As Jose Luis Rodriguez began to strum on his guitar, a short film began to play. This film was a collection of shorts, mostly what looked like some homemade tapes which added to the connection the production had with its viewers.

  Finally, she took the stage, this flamenco dancer did not just take the stage, she graced the stage.

  Everything from the way her shoes beat against the hollow floor causing the sound to boom throughout the whole theater, to how she expertly kicked her skirt to and fro, was absolutely breathtaking. What I noticed the most was this productions contemporary flavor. They were able to break the mold. Traditionally, the dancer uses castanets or a shawl, all she used to open was a fan.

  From that point on, the only accessories she used were her hands and body. As her blind male counterpart took the stage, he played the part of a “Guarijo” which means “hill-billy.”

  This character followed her all across the stage, at first fascinated with her skirt and continued to touch it and caress it until he felt the need to cover himself with her skirt, laying on the floor he crawled under the dancer.

  He shocked her with a kick of her skirt, and she stepped away from the man.

  There were many parts of the show that let the viewer feel connected to the story being told. Being that my family has its roots in Spain, then later immigrating to Cuba, the man hollering out, “Pinas frescas, pinas fresca; Fruta bomba tenemos fruta bomba fria!” (fresh pineapple, fresh pineapple; papaya we have cold papaya) gave me a glimpse to what my grandfather was doing as a boy in Cuba, which bought me to tears. It’s been about a year since his passing, and he took so much pride in my short flamenco career.

  Viewing the culmination of the Cuban culture and Spanish pride reminded me that although he isn’t with me, physically, he’ll always be in my heart, especially in the way I dance, cook and love.

  Throughout the show, several of the sharper edges of growing up in a Latin household were explored.

  Through the laughs, sighs and occasional sniffles, it seemed as though the story being told was something all in the theater could relate to and connect.

  The short film even included some audio of what I assumed to be a mother telling her daughter how to do certain things and explaining the ways of the world. “Mija it goes like this” sitting there in my seat I was trying to recount the thousands of times my mom has tried to correct my stubborn ways (sorry, mom).

  The History House provided a grand production.