We prepare for months in advance. I researched all the way back to Isabel la Católica. Got reconnected with Antonio Machado and Miguel Hernandez. Discover the drastic differences between Spain’s regions and why they fight so much to keep their identity and language.

I revisited my education on Spaniard conquest, understood how Spain is really a “casual” mix of races, religions and geography. School books lie, and history is told by those in power. It has become fashionable to push away the “invaders”, but the color of my skin tells me that I am the result of those mixes. My best discovery: zarzuela came of the people, by the people and for the people, and so, it should not perish. It got kidnapped and sanitized. But its roots are the purest and simple feelings, without much decoration. People, the heroes, the fighters, the rebels, the true and the unfaithful, soldiers, thieves, gypsies, pirates, bookkeepers, dreamers, tailors, bar owners. Simple people. Us.  I have fallen in love with Spain and Zarzuela. I will admit it, in this time where as a Latin, it would be politically incorrect. But it is in my blood. As much as the Quitus. But this is a part of a longer story.

We prepare for months. We plan and then in rehearsals, collaboration starts to polish our thoughts, and the amazing talent of the people we work with will allow only the best thoughts to remain. It is draining, just as much as it is exciting. But last night, I came and vegged out. For the first time ever, I wanted to do nothing. I saw the closing of Dickinson and of Wandavision, half awake and half asleep. Then I slept. Nothing.

Today, after that very normal melting day, I am recharged and ready to tight up and close what has been a magical first week of rehearsals. One more cup of coffee, and life is back to normal…