|Jorge Wojtas performs at First United Methodist Church|
February 4, 2011
I had the pleasure of listening to Flamenco guitarist Jorge Wojtas perform in concert yesterday, but it was all wrong. His music carried us to the sunny countryside of Spain, where the souls of gypsies linger. If I closed my eyes, I could imagine that the slight sliver of sunlight filtering through the window was the bright intensity of a Spanish day. I could imagine hearing the rhythmic melody of flamenco music fluttering and strumming through the sultry air of Spain. I wore a skirt. My skin was sun-kissed. My hair blew in a balmy breeze. I felt transported.
Then I opened my eyes. Reality was jarring. I wasn't a wandering soul, lost among lemon trees in Andaluca. I was sitting with my coat on, among a hundred other dreary, cold midwesterners in a Methodist church in Middletown, Ohio. The caption of a foreign film flickered through my mind. My skirted, sun-kissed, windblown self asked me in Spanish: What are you doing here?