A bit of a delayed log here, but, better late than never. The major event in my life lately was my trip to Seville, Spain for the World Music Exposition at the end of October. I met up with a friend of mine, Raffi Bandazian at WOMEX and we went to work trying to find international distribution for our respective CD's. The exposition was held at FIBES, in the outskirts of Seville with the hotel right across the street. The convention center was massive with three separate conventions being held simultaneously. There was WOMEX, the Andalusian tourism convention, and finally the 2003 World Flamenco Festival. The Flamenco Festival was coordinated to coincide with WOMEX. The WOMEX had over 100 different booths with international performers, booking agents, record labels, distributors, you name it converging to do business. The good news for Pomegranate was a distribution deal with a Japanese company and possible deals with distributors in Italy and the Benelux countries. My prime targets were companies in France and the UK. No luck so far.

While WOMEX was happening in one section of the massive complex, I stopped over several times a day to catch live Flamenco on the other side of the building. Three separate shows simultaneously from 11am to 8pm. It was dizzying and luckily, free with my WOMEX badge. So, after a days worth of schmoozing with folks at WOMEX, a little "break" to catch Flamenco was pretty amazing. The nighttime activities included the WOMEX showcases with over 35 concerts spanning three days from 9pm to 3:30am at the tent city of Palenque near the center of town. Among the concerts that I was drawn to was the Uzbek singer Sevara Nazarkhan, Andalusian troubadour Javier Rubial, and Algerian/French singer Amina. There were three separate stages with music going on at the side stages simultaneously and the center stage after the sides were finished. The Europeans know how to party and the Spaniards are gracious hosts.

In Seville, they take Flamenco seriously. During the last night of musical showcases, a torrential rainstorm hit Andalusia. While people were enjoying the raucous shows on Saturday night at Palenque, it suddenly dawned on my that my hotel was about a 20 minute drive from Palenque and that at 2am, it might be a good idea to grab a cab to beat the other 3000 people to the punch. Well, as it turned out, other people had this in mind as well and we ended up walking a mile in the pouring rain searching for a cab. No luck. Let me do the math: 3000 people from about the globe staying at hotels, and maybe about 20-30 cabs at most? Yep, there was a massive shortage. Plus, Sevillian cab drivers don't like to work in the rain. Go figure. So, Bandaz pulls out a move right out of the streets of Yerevan and attempts to stop a regular car on the road. The first car blows past us, but the second car screeches to a stop. Two guys in their early 20's in a Ford Focus jump out and ask us (three of us) what's up. We flash a 20 Euro note and ask if they can take us to our hotel. They wanted to see the money up front and then told us to sit in the back. As we squished in the back, the punkish looking Spaniards floored it and started blowing through red light after red light while turning up the tunes to a Flamenco singer all while lighting up a cigarette. Their gesticulations and singing at the top of their lungs infected the rest of us to grove and clap in the back of the car while the rain was pouring. The poor German girl with us who also spoke Spanish and acted as our translator was horrified. But, anyway, as we gave the punkish Spaniards our approval, the car pulls up to the Hotel and as we get out, they start having an animated talk with the German girl. They waved the 20 Euro note at us and I knew that we were going to get screwed. Frickin' 20 Euros each is what I was figuring. Bandaz was pissed, I was pissed, and then the German girl kept saying "no" to the punks. But then, the car drove away as they bid us farewell and waved their hands out of the car. What did they say, I asked the German? The answer: The punkish Spaniards asked if we had a bill smaller than the 20 Euro as they refused to accept our money, or at least wanted much less thus waving the bill back at us. The reason: the Spaniards noticed that Bandaz and I were so visibly moved by the music playing in the car that the Spaniards said since we like the music so much, they could not accept our money as per Andalusian custom. The singer featured in the car was that of the legendary and deceased El Camaron De La Isla, the greatest Flamenco vocalist of all time and a Gypsy by birth. The Spaniards were Gypsies and were obviously moved by our interest in their musical God. The ghost of El Camaron was with us on a rainy Andausian night.