Winner of a Gold SATW Lowell Thomas Award / Longread's Best Music Writing of 2019 / honored in The Best American Travel Writing
Lavinia Spalding
I’ve been in Spain only two days, and already my fingers hurt. It’s a prickly, high-pitched sting, like when a fallen-asleep limb returns to life. The sensation delights me. It means I’m doing something right.
Yesterday, after arriving in Madrid, I took the metro to the Delicias neighborhood, home to Picasso’s Guernica (in the Reina Sofia Museum) and the magnificent iron-and-glass Atocha railway station. I didn’t visit those places. Instead, I walked to a nondescript apartment building and knocked on a stranger’s door. A thin, soft-spoken woman with sleepy eyes and floppy bangs invited me in. We chatted a bit, and then she handed me a $3,000 guitar. “Can you play something?” she asked.
This was the reason I’d come to Spain. Because I once believed I was destined to be a tocaora.
READ THE WHOLE STORY AT AFAR.COM
*This story won a Gold Lowell Thomas Award and a Gold Solas Travel Writing Award and was a notable in The Best American Travel Writing. It was also one of five stories included in Longreads' "Best of 2020 Music Writing" and was reprinted in Italian in Internazionale Magazine. You can hear me read an abbreviated version HERE.
(photos by Laura El-Tantawy)
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