Flamenco Guitars and much, much more - It's Friday

FRIDAY: From Algodonales to Ronda 

I tossed and turned all night with the feeling of disconnect without internet.  Imagining any number of reasons why...I thought I'd uploaded too much data, so I set my alarm for midnight to check.  Nope.  Back to tossing and turning again.  By morning, I knew what the problem was:  the landlady's router needed to be reset.  And I was right.  A sense of relief washed over me when I caught her at breakfast, she reset it and poof.  I'm back in business.  She is adorable and so eager to please.  My character, Callie, will definitely stay at Casa Baraka when she gets to Spain (smile).  Marina (my landlady) was delighted to hear it and said she would treat her well (another smile).

Since Jose Luis was ill and and the flamenco shop may or may not be open, I weighed my choices after connecting with loved ones.  The bus left at 11:00, 1:30 and in the afternoon at 4:30 and 7:00.  What to do?  I needed coffee, so first off, I headed for the beautiful kitchen and gazed into space, seeing the white houses and blue sky through the grilled door from the living area.  What a place!

When I checked emails afterward, I was stunned to find three emails from Jose Luis.  He felt better.  Could I come eat dinner with him and his wife (last night)?  Then the next one was, please tell me where you are and I'll pick you up and we can eat breakfast (too late).  He'd called the owner of the flamenco guitar shop (his good friend, Valeriano Bernal) and the shop expected us today!  Wow...I gulped my coffee down, shot into the bedroom for clothes and sent him an email -- "Yes, I'll meet you   on the patio cafe by the church...going now."

If I hadn't figured out the internet, I would have taken that 11:00 bus.  Serendipity again.  I'm blessed.  I packed up, rolled my bag down the little Calle Piedra and found my favorite spot under the tree.  After ordering my cafe con leche, (no espresso this time), I people watched for about twenty minutes.  When Jose Luis came up behind me, I was surprised.  No car.  It was so nice to finally meet the man who I'd only met over the internet, photos and the video I sent to him explaining my Spanish history.

Off we went toward the Guitarras Flamenco shop.  He rolled my bag and half way down the winding street, he pointed to a hotel.  What?  Oh, his friend owned it and we'd stash my bag there.  Good thought.  The owner and his very cute son grabbed the bag and we were on our way again.

This time, the shop was open and we walked right in.  This is a family shop.  Señor Bernal's daughter, Cheri, was behind the counter and she called her brother, Rafael, who came downstairs immediately.  They were both happy to let me take photos and answer questions (Jose Luis helped me with the conversation, obviously).  The entrance into the shop was intricate and when I pointed to the arched area, Cheri pointed out that it was the shape of a guitar.  On second glance, it made so much more sense.

Rafael guided us up a long stairwell into the manufacturing part of the shop.  I was awestruck as I saw flamenco guitars in various stages of creation.  He explained each step to me (and I understood...wow).  If they rush it, they can complete one in about one month.  He said the cypress wood needs to be seasoned slowly.  Then, I saw the beautiful decoration around the soundboard and he showed me the intricately created piece sliced thin and inlaid into a groove.

When I thought I couldn't be more in awe, he led us back downstairs and he picked up a guitar to let me hear the sound.  There is a special sound made from the strings, bridge and fingerboard of a flamenco guitar that can't be heard on another instrument.  Once he began to strum, my feet began to move (good thing I was sitting down.)

When he offered me the chance to play (what?)  I took it.  They were as eager to share their passion with me as I was to receive it.  What an amazing turnaround from yesterday!

Back to the hotel to get my bag and take a photo of me in the patio entrance while Jose Luis ordered us coffees.

My head was reeling with the Spanish words fighting to get out, stay awake and respond. We did pretty well, I must say, and I'm still pleasantly surprised.  Afterward, we started walking again.  When he headed us up the street toward the bus stop where I'd walked twice yesterday, I noticed the beautiful house with the bright flowers and patio behind a black grilled fencing and smiled.  It was my favorite on the street.  When he stopped to fit his key in the lock, I lost it.  I could not believe my luck.  I was going inside!!

His wife, Maria Luisa, opened the door with a smile, kisses on both my cheeks and swung her arm to invite me in.  When Jose Luis told her I could speak some Spanish, she promptly sat me down and started chattering.  Ok, I won't say I understand her completely but she was so animated, I smiled like I did.  And then, I admitted to her...  She was delightful.

Within a few minutes, Jose Luis was back and we left again.  This time in a car (narrow streets!!).  He drove me to the top of the town to show me where many inhabitants filled their water containers from the spring water that runs out of the hills.

Amazing.  There were a lot of people there and the water tasted fresh and wonderful.  Afterward, back in the car and we drove to the other end of town where he showed me the fountain (fuente) at the bottom of the town.  It was next to the public laundry area (now antigua and not used for anything sadly) where the women of the village used to wash all their clothes just like the area I saw in Almogia last week.

Up, up and farther up he drove afterward to the small antigua church on the hill, Ave Maria.  The view of the village was lovely and of course, he wanted to photograph with the white houses in the background.  Looking inside the windows, we saw fresh flowers.  He seemed surprised but we think it's because Easter is on its way.

Back into town to pick up his grandson from school, a walk half way home and we saw little Nicholas' mother, so Jose Luis handed him over and he led me across the street again to Bar Conijo where I had my tinto verano with límon yesterday.  He treated me to a wonderful lunch of salad and chicken (that's what I recognized on the menu, remember?)  Oh, and another tinto verano with límon, of course... and olives that were so good that I kept each one in my mouth before eating it just to get the full enjoyment.

Ah, the day couldn't get better, could it?  We chatted (yes, we did) all the way home again.  I learned he preserves his own olives and Maria Luisa had two jars waiting for me and stuffed them inside my bag.  Then, all four of us sat (Jose Luis, Maria Luisa, their daughter and me...) outside the arched, black grilled doorway..and we spoke Spanish (mixed with English).   The beautiful patio was filled with flowers bursting from colorful pots,.  I smelled the citrus trees that hovered below us and watched a shade flap above the colored ceramic tiles.

When it was time to go, I was so happy that Jose Luis didn't just drop me off at the bus stop.  He waited with me and every time a bus drove in (3 of them) he asked if it was going to Ronda?  No.  When the fourth bus arrived (late) it was a yes.  He put my bag onto the bus, kissed me on both cheeks and off he went.  I was in Ronda within forty-five minutes, the taxi driver dropped me off at the Hotel Colón and here I am.  The room is tiny, but clean, quiet and beautifully decorated.

Tomorrow, a train ride to Malaga and the frightening aspect of renting a manual-shift rental car.
PUEDO HACER ESTO.  (I can do this).