The first time I met Manuela Carpio, I was terrified. I wanted her to like me; the best flamenco teachers in Jerez had a reputation for denying beginners entry into their classes (they only want to spend their precious time with advanced dancers and had no patience for novices). And I was a real beginner. I had never even heard a bulería song before moving to Jerez. I had vague notions about what flamenco was, the glimpses I’d seen and heard throughout my multicultural upbringing, but in reality, I had no idea.
Jerez, as it were, is the epicenter of flamenco. The true history is much more complicated than that (it is actually spread out between three cities—Sevilla, Cadiz, and Jerez), but for our purposes, we’ll say it’s Jerez. Either way, the strand of flamenco we learned (bulería) was born in Jerez, and it is one of the forms that most captures the essence of the city. It is improvised, it is wild, and it is close to the earth.