From the outside, a French croissant and an Italian cornetto look identical.
To the experienced taster they are completely different things. One is flaky and shatters when you bite it. The other is soft and yields. Same shape. Different soul.
The same is true of a Flamenco guitar and a Classical guitar. Side by side in a shop window they are nearly indistinguishable. But play them both and the difference is immediate — one is bright and percussive with bite, the other is warm and mid-range and round. Same lineage. Different character.
To hear the difference between Vicente Amigo and Paco de Lucía — not just notice it, but truly hear it — you need something that cannot be taught in a classroom or absorbed from a blog post. You need acuity. And acuity only comes from one place.
Experience.
Not information about experience. Not someone else's description of experience. The thing itself.
These differences aren't accidents. The cornetto is soft because Italian mornings are unhurried. The Flamenco guitar bites because duende necessitates a kind of musical immediacy. Culture encodes itself into objects. And you can only read that encoding with your hands and your mouth and your ears — never with your eyes alone.
So close the laptop. Go find a real croissant. Then find a cornetto. Then tell me they're the same.