Genteel Home Cervantes

The venue is an amazing old theatre, perfectly kept. The band is another story, though I won’t get into that. It was a sold-out evening at the Malaga Jazz Festival, but clear, effective information helped me find my seat within a few minutes. Marvellous place.

Lovely theater! Just know that the 'Paraiso' spots are wooden benches without backs, so they’re not very comfortable. I’d recommend paying a few euros extra for a 'real chair' ;-)

The ticket counter woman, with short hair and an unsmiling face, made it clear in her dismissive tone that English speakers weren’t welcome. We were openly discriminated against, and she didn’t need to explain what she meant. We’d come respectfully, hoping to sit quietly and listen to music in a language that wasn’t ours. We had no wish to colonize or take over. Still, we weren’t wanted. We left confused more than angry, wondering when speaking English became a moral failing, or curiosity an offense. Music has no borders or passports. Honest art can bring people across languages, distance and time together. But that spirit seemed shut behind glass in Málaga tonight. I thought of the golden galleries of the Paris Opera, the stillness of La Scala, the white sails of Sydney’s Opera House and the vast murals at the Met. Those places seem to invite the world in. Here, the invitation came with conditions, if there was one at all. We also saw disabled patrons treated dismissively and Spanish speakers spoken down to. People with cheap tickets were herded and contained as if they mattered less. The seats were packed tightly together like crates on a poultry farm, with no dignity or care. Leaving was easy. We walked away, not bitter or dramatic, just done. In the night air I felt clarity, not regret. I even felt thankful to the woman at the window for making plain that this door was never for us, and reminding us that sometimes the graceful thing is to know when to leave.

The theater is very nice-looking and not very big, but I found the seats uncomfortable. I was in the top rows, technically not the worst seats, and there was barely room for my legs between my seat and the one in front. Photos weren’t allowed even with the lights on, though of course I don’t mean during the show.