Wandering the Art Deco streets of Córdoba in southern Spain, I’m drawn to a commotion on a square. It’s almost midnight and everyone’s out, savoring a cool evening. The short men around me all seem to have raspy tobacco voices and big bellies they call curvas de felicidad (happiness curves). As the men jostle and bark, parents gather, nodding with approval, as a dozen little schoolgirls rattle a makeshift stage . . . working on their sultry. Even with a very modern young generation, flamenco culture thrives.