Under the Spotlight, a dash of Spaniards and a camera

 (Video in Algodonales (Thursday) - courtesy of Christine McN)

     The minute I stepped into the cobblestoned courtyard near the Iglesia Santa Ana in Algodonales, I heard a Spaniard whisper my name.  "Patricia?"  

       I turned quickly and saw the shy Spaniard I'd met the first day I put a toe onto Spanish soil in March.  It was Ruben, the audio specialist with the film crew I was meeting for my day under the spotlight with Eterio, the documentary producer.

     "Hola, qué tal?"   (Hello, how are you?)  I had to show off my Spanish to show him that it was improving.

       Ruben raised an eyebrow (he noticed) and grinned at me.  He is a friendly young man who speaks a little English nicely and blushes if I tell him so.  

Within minutes, a black car drove up next to us in the courtyard and out hopped Eterio along with Herman the camera man who looks like Robert Downey, Jr. with a blinding smile.  The driver was a beautiful young woman who introduced herself as Paola, the translator/journalist.  Jose Luis SM joined us (a local in Algodonales, my friend who is the impetus for me coming to Algodonales to base my 4th mystery book in the village).  I introduced everyone to my brother, Steven and his novia, Christine.  Oh!  They liked that he speaks Spanish... and they tell me I am much improved since I arrived on March 11.  (smile).

Filming was interesting, fun and another adventure.  Chatting with everyone was even better.  Then, back to the Valeriano Bernal Guitarras and the flamenco guitars inside.  Within minutes, Ruben had attached a microphone to my blouse and pushed the receiver into the waistband of my slacks.  I felt like a movie star (another smile here).   Then, upstairs into the manufacturing part of the shop up a long stairway into a large room filled with wood shavings, glue, guitar skeletons, bits and pieces of wood and magic.  

I answered Eterio's questions as clearly as I could regarding why I was there, in that village, interested in flamenco guitars and how did it relate to my Ruiz family research, the immigrant story and so much more.  I loved every minute.  And then we all drove out of the village to Venta Sala, a restaurant Jose Luis promised was just what we needed to unwind.  And we did.  Photos of filming with permission from the producer...

One more place to film -- the antique church at the top of the hill...but the sky opened up amid dark gray clouds and the wind tossed the branches of every tree within sight.  But, the steadfast Herman and Ruben pulled out the huge camera, tripod and umbrellas.  Up we trudged, finding roof overhangs to hug the walls to keep dry and wondering if they would change their mind?  No.  The filming there was just a few minutes as it was crazy wet.  We will meet again east of Malaga in a couple of weeks to film more of this wonderful documentary about the Spanish immigration from Spain to Hawaii.  And we spoke of his trip to Hawaii and later to California, where I hope to meet them again in a few months.

The rain followed us only briefly as Steven threaded his way out of Algodonales.  After lots of cheek kissing, he followed the serpentine road toward Ronda on our way back to Calahonda.  But wait!  Steven and Christine hadn't seen the beauty nor felt the pull of Ronda as I did.  So I pointed to the city and within minutes of passing that last roundabout, Steven parked his rental car and I took off at a trot. They followed obediently... First, I found the Plaza del Toros.

And Steven found his muse: Cayetano Ordeñez, the matador (killer).  Steven stood straight and curved his shoulders just so. Then, with elbows bent outward, he thrust his bearded chin toward his left shoulder.  Today he was a torero, one who doesn't actually kill the bull.  Hmmmm.... All my brother missed was his cape and the massive, stomping bull.

We saw the antique church, the plaza, a bevy of army trucks, a tank (there is a military installation in Ronda) and then we saw the massive ochre cliffs of Ronda.  The sight stopped them in their tracks.  And so did the rain...more and more rain.  After a few photos on the bridge, we ducked into Restaurant San Miguel for a respite.  Wine for us ladies and coffee for the driver.  We all agreed when the sun comes out again soon, we will return.  

This time, we will have our other brother (Rick), my nephew and his novia with us too.  

Tomorrow (Friday) we go to Los Nuñez, the village of my heart.