My journey to Granada
My search for flamenco in Spain

The first week from Granada, Spain.
I left Boston at 5.50 PM., July 8th.
The flight was uneventful though sitting in a middle seat on a 6 hour flight cannot be called completely uneventful and certainly not fulfilling however, I survived it and after spending a few hours in London’s Heathrow airport trying to decide if I really needed to eat again I arrived in Malaga around 11.30 am. If you have flown on a trip to Europe in the evening its interesting that they try to make you believe that you have in fact been flying for many more hours than you have and that even though you have had supper a few hours earlier two hours later you are served breakfast. For some reason no matter what flying makes most people hungry and they all, including me, clamor for more food as if flying causes one to lose calories.

Arriving in Malaga and leaving Malaga was easy. After taking bus from the airport I arrived at the hostel where I’m staying. The term Hostal is the word used for a small hotel in Spain.
First I have to say that the bus ride was an hour and a half to granada and a beautiful trip, the scenery was quite spectacular and I kept falling asleep and then waking up to an even more breathtaking view of fields and hills and farms and mountains and each view was more beautiful than the next. Behind me was an African man who spent much of his time on his cell phone and across the aisle a young boy who slept in the most precious position awakened occasionally to answer his cell phone and then he would promptly fall back asleep.

Now back to my hotel or hostal. A simple place off a main road, San Juan de Dios, and it looks like nothing but is quite clean inside. Its run by a family and they are basically very pleasant even when people come back at 4 am and they have to wake up to let them in.

My first impression of Spain was that it was loud, hot and filled with people and all the people speak Spanish with this strange accent which has taken me sometime to get used to. Its very different from the Spanish I have had in Mexico.

I am here for a search of a flamenco guitar.

Why? Well who knows. I don’t think it’s a midlife crisis kind of thing but instead a love for this music and the instrument itself and a strong desire to take this trip that I have thought about for awhile. My flamenco guide Jon suggested Granada and so here I am. A little history. I first heard flamenco music when I was a boy and had an album of Carlos Montoya and was amazed by his playing. How did he do that? I listened to that record for hours and over a period of years and one day met someone who played flamenco guitar. I asked about lessons but they cost 7 shillings which was about a dollar and that was much too much for me so I never did it, opting for Peter Paul and Mary and the Beatles instead but always having flamenco in my mind. Maybe it was also living next to the Gomez family and hearing spanish music from their house. Or the grapes they grew in the yard harkened to southern spain. Since I couldn't learn flamenco I studied the closest thing, classical guitar, the refined sister to flamenco. It was this road I decided to take.
Many years later I rediscovered flamenco music and the guitar and for the past year it has been my passion, listening and playing as much as I can and here I am, around the corner of the caves where the flamencos live and play. Having been an artist for many years I am intrigued and intent on following the passion to its end somehow to see what it might be about even without understand its purpose or reason.

The search for the guitar has been exciting so far. I have played about 15 instruments as I write this and some I’ve played a few times.

At first I was very confused.
I first went to Manuel Diaz’s shop where I met him and sitting with him was a singer, an older man. This photo is of another guitarist visiting his shop, the singer is standing. I took this days later.

Manuel (a short clip of him playing his guitar) is young and has a lovely face, easy and friendly. I gave him greetings from Jon and gave him the CD Jon asked me to give to him and he was delighted and then I told him I was looking for a flamenco guitar. (Some of you know that Jon is the teacher I have been studying with for the past year.)
Manuel asked if I was looking for a professional or medium instrument and I said medium and he took a guitar out of the glass case and played it a bit. Until now I haven’t really played many flamenco guitars, I would say two of Jon’s is all and it sounded good to me and then I played it a bit. I liked it somewhat though it felt to me hard to play, the bass not as pliable as I wanted or expected but I played it for awhile as the other man raised his eyebrows with a little smirk as if to say, “listen to this guy play solea” I thought I played it rather well. Then I played Manuel’s other guitar and it was a world of difference, easier to play and not as crisp and I imagined it would be but a fun instrument no less. The student model was 1200 E (the Euro is about $1.15) and the professional model 4500 E, quite a difference both in price as well as feel. Manuel played for awhile and the singer sang off and on. I sat and listened and eventually I left and walked back down the hill promising that I would return the next day.

This all happened on Wednesday, the day I arrived. I arrived in Granada around 2.30 pm, siesta time and get settled in my room where I was told was only a temporary room with a bed, a fan and a basin until the next day when I would move to a room with AC. I was also told that they were expecting me the day before which I realized then that I told them I was arriving on the 8th however that was the day I left Boston, arriving here a day later. After siesta I made my way to Cuesta de Gomerez, the street with the guitars. This is also the street where you walk or take the bus to visit the Alhambra.

I made my way back to the square and by now it was getting later in the afternoon or more like early evening and I sat and had food before walking a bit more and then going back home. It was now getting dark and I realized I was very tired and decided that I would sleep and get ready for the next days search.

.

Thursday I woke around 8 am and went down to the bakery and bought a roll and then next door to the butcher shop where I got ham and cheese and made my coffee and had breakfast in the room and planned my day.

Then I made my way to get change and there I saw another shop, a man named German Berrand and I went in where I met his daughter, a red head young woman who showed me a few instruments and talked non-stop as I tried to play and not sweat too much as it was hot and she closed the door to keep the traffic noise down but there was no air conditioning in the shop and a persistent fly that kept me company for the whole time. The professional guitar was 1200 E and nothing different than what I had seen in Manual’s shop, I played it for awhile and finally left and went back to Bellido’s shop, the one on Gomerez, the first one I went to. Bellido was there again, early 50s with a nice smile and easy manner and all the time smoking a cigarette. I said I wanted to play again he brought out the guitar, the one for 2400 which is what I requested and when I started playing it I knew this was the guitar for me. There was no question this time, it was bright and sassy with a crispness and an ease that made my playing so fast I was amazed. I played it for awhile and then we talked or rather he talked quite a bit and then we discussed about how to deal with VAT and getting it back at the airport and I said I would come back again to play before deciding. He said that he would be closed from Saturday afternoon until Monday and I left and went back to visit Rolf to see his instrument. Again I played it and had the same feeling, not certain about the feel of the bass, by now I had played a few instruments and could really feel what it felt and after playing Bellido’s guitar it was very clear to me that this instrument was not going to be my guitar. I played it for a short while and then left feeling somewhat confused and decided to give it all a rest for awhile.

Thursday evening was quiet, I sat in the square and had something to eat. Surprisingly food has not been a theme here for me. I find myself having breakfast and then drinking tons of water and walking a lot. Granada is made of hills so walking and sweating and drinking has been the order of each day here. I also have taken to heart the siesta and have been sleeping in the afternoons for a few hours after hours of walking. Thursday was an early evening again. After looking at the two guitars I walked quite a bit for hours and by the evening I was quite exhausted, even after the siesta.

Friday I decided it was time to see the Alhambra (here is a page of some of the Alhambra photos) and walked to the top of the hill, Cuesta de Gomerez is the street that takes you there and I passed my guitar shops and continued walking. The Alhambra was an amazing place and in the gardens there was I realized the first smells I noticed since arriving in Granada. The city is mostly very noisy and busy with cars and motorbikes and people. At the Alhambra I walked through the gardens and the smell of jasmine and roses and other flowers was breathtaking. The tour itself was interesting though it would have been more fun without so many people. I wondered how Washington Irving must have felt living there when he wrote his book and it made me want to read the book. The most spectacular thing about this place apart from the construction of the rooms and the buildings is the view of the city from the top. I found it almost difficult to take it all in. Being there one could imagine the Moorish quarter and the various battles and the life in the palaces of this amazing monument. I spent a few hours wandering around the place trying to avoid people which was basically impossible and eventually left to rest.

An aside: this trip is a strange one for me. First traveling alone is one part of it and staying alone, so far I haven’t met anyone I have wanted to stay in contact with and have not been interested in meeting people, enjoying being in my own head and my own time and the ease of wandering as I feel a need to or just stopping and looking, taking in things as I sit. Granada is filled with tourist from all over Europe mostly and many young people who come in and walk the streets looking very much like 60s hippies with navel rings and bare feet and lose clothing.

I left the Alhambra and wrote a bit at the internet café and then back here to rest before going out at night. I decided to go to a few flamenco things. Its interesting to me that finding flamenco is somewhat difficult here and I decided to make my way to the Albaicin and then to Sacromente where the flamenco was supposed to be taking place.

The Albaicin (a page of some of my photos from this part of town) is a lovely town, stark white with cobbled streets and lots of side streets and wandering pathways made by the Moors. Churches and squares, old people walking slowly with canes and sitting on stone benches in the late afternoon which still hold the heat of the day’s sun. children playing and young men on scooters flying by at dangerous speeds. I walked for a long time trying to find the street that Eliot Fisk the classical guitarist lives but I think I must have the wrong address. After walking though the streets for a few hours I made my way to Sacromonte, the next town over and it took awhile and finally I got there and found a restaurant where I met a young man who said that there is flamenco there at 12.30 am. I told him I would come back but that I was going to another concert that started at 10 pm right nearby. It was only 7.30 pm and things are not quite open yet for dinner this time of day. Most of Spain seems to really start dinner around 9 pm at the earliest so I decided to walk and continued walking for awhile in this town which is very quiet and overlooks the Alhambra, a beautiful view. Finally around 8.30 I decided that maybe I would eat something and went to a little restaurant where it overlooked the whole of Granada from the Alhambra side and there I sat and wrote a bit and had dinner and was very left alone by the waiter who at first asked me if I had reservations and had a bit of an attitude but nonetheless decided to seat me in the best table with an amazing view and then left me alone until I needed him. I eventually paid and left to walk to the concert.
The concert was a fusion concert with drumming and singing and was at a environmental museum where some of the caves were and I walked up very steep steps and there was an open outdoor area, the weather was perfect for being out and here in Granada most of the restaurants are outside and by 10 pm the climate is perfect for being outside and eating. This makes sense to me why people eat late. I got my sangria which came with the price of the ticket, 5 E and sat to wait for the concert. The concert (a short video clip if you have a fast connection) eventually started at 10.30 not 10 and the air was so soft and as the sun set the moon which was almost full came out above the Alhambra which was now lit for the evening. There was jasmine and lavender in the air punctuated by cigarette smoke. The concert was made up of four drummers, a dancer and two women who sang, amazing voices and they performed for a half hour, took a break for a half hour and then performed again for a half hour. The music was certainly fusion, a cross between flamenco and salsa and I liked it. I did find myself while waiting falling asleep from time to time. Jet lag.

Sights from Granada: (here is a page of other photos)
Old man walking, cane in one hand, a bag of groceries in the other, walking slowly up the stairs and as I watch him I wonder how he can do this day after day, I am exhausted just after doing it for a few days.
Market place shaded by trees and awnings, women selling fruit and vegetables,voice loud and sharp.
Fish markets nearby with fresh fish as vendors call out prices.
Man standing at a table filled with hundreds of bras selling then as he calls out to the women to come and buy.
Old men sitting on a bench quietly, occasionally talking as they grip their canes.
Three men talking and smoking as they wave their hands in the air.
Everyone smoking, (I have decided that the tobacco companies don't need to worry about losing money with tobacco, they are totally supported by Europe if not Granada alone. It is rare to not see someone with a cigarette in hand or mouth.)
Three old women sitting across from three old men. Each group talking loudly and occasionally at each other.
Most of the people are overweight except for the young people.

Last night the restaurant in the Albaicin, the woman who owns the restaurant moves quickly among the customers, she is a large woman wearing all black and she moves fast and sweats a lot and has a big smile on her face and gets to everyone easily and quickly. Back and forth between the restaurant and the customers she seems to float in and out with food and drinks occasionally stopping at the doorway of the restaurant to dance a little before going in to get the food or drinks.
In the square young people gather, mostly very brown from the sun, bare stomachs showing with tattoos and navel rings and nose rings and lip rings and who knows where else rings. Skateboards and scooters and a few guitars playing folk music and a few drunks walking with bottles in hand and hundreds of cell phones and young couples walking hand in hand and old couples walking hand in hand and other couples walking without touching and parents with their kids walking with ease. Young African men selling cd's on the side of the road and many shops of Arabic influence. Restaurants with kebab and schwarma and tapas bars and pizza joints and ice cream everywhere. Tourist shops litter the streets and internet cafes are filled with people and smoke, loud music fill the streets.
Little dogs run around the streets and down below from a walkway a bunch of geese live and just next to them are cats who seem to be their neighbors.

And then there are the occasional characters. I saw this woman in the square and she was walking and then decided to stop and sing. Then she would walk on and stop after a few feet and sing some more and this went on for about ten minutes.

And then there are churches and churches and a few more churches everywhere.And people. They seem to arrive daily and stay. They speak every language and all seem to speak Spanish except for a young man that came into the guitar shop today and spoke Checz but not enough english or spanish to get what he wanted. I often hear Arabic spoken as well. I had a long conversation with a young man who runs the internet cafe. We talked about language and how different each dialect is. He speaks Arabic, Spanish and some other native language that he could not really describe to me. He talked about hearing his friends from London and not being able to understand them. He had a bright smile and I enjoyed his company for the time we stood and talked.

Sunday. Walking the streets which are quiet, they are resting after a hard night where they have been trampled and thrown up on and kicked and spat upon. The young people are still asleep at 11 am, some straggling out to see the sun but most either left or in bed, waiting for the length of the day to happen before venturing forth. Only a few shops open on Sunday, maybe they open later. Church services going on. I went to the Albaicin today to see if the guitar shop was open but it was not. In the little square where a water fountain runs a few people sit. Dogs walk about, most of them small things, very few cats around. As the church bell sounds the dogs begin barking and howling from the sound of the bells. Tourist wander the streets looking for places, maps in hand. I walk with my camera, shooting occasionally, at times shooting things I’ve already shot but shoot again just in case. I walk and my path is determined by the sun and shade. There is no particular reason for my walking today. Its just to get out to be in the world. Today I came back to the room to write a bit. The internet places are closed at this point and I’m happy to sit and write and be quiet.

So far I have had good wine, beer, olives are quite amazing, the meat dishes have been very tasty, the bread is different, very hard rolls, the cheese spectacular. I keep trying different restaurants to see if there is one that I prefer. So far one in the Albaicin where I've eaten twice now, I don't remember the name right now but its always filled with people, all eat outside in the square. The waiters, two young men move fast like dancers, carrying food and drink and a young chubby boy help clean tables as he is told to move here and there and when he can he sits down on a chair huffing as though he had just done a days work. The first day I ate there I ordered the chicken cooked in beer and was brought olives and fried anchovies alone with bread while I waited for my meal.

Today is Monday July 14, 2003. Last night I wandered from my room around 8.30 pm, I am realizing that it makes no sense to leave the hostal before then. The restaurants are not open yet and unless one is sightseeing you may as well stay in from the heat. I like this heat, its dry and not nearly as humid as I’m used to. I walked first to the square and watched people walk. At times they all seemed to be going in the same direction, like the seagulls in Nassau in the evening. They all seem to fly east for some reason which I have never determined. People walking some in evening dress and others in jeans and torn clothing. I sat and watched for quite awhile not clear where I wanted to go or what to eat. There are lots of children here and they run and play easily in the squares. Finally I made my way back to the Albaicin, it seems to be the place I feel most interested in and I wander for awhile and come to a lookout where there are many people sitting and standing and looking at the Alhambra as the sun is setting. This is a photo from the top but here is also a very short video showing the view. Note: all of the videos I have taken that you see here are from my little still digital camera. I have been taking video as well using my video camera but the still one allows me to take short shots and to take them where I would otherwise not be able to. The video camera looks too professional and scares people I think and the digital still camera is fairly common looking so I can get away with using it freely. Here is the shot.

Its now 9.30 and the sun has just gone down and in the square is a man sitting and playing guitar and singing and he plays flamenco music and is quite good.

I sat and listened to him for awhile and watch the children run around a circle with a cross in the middle and eventually as the sun was almost gone I walked to decide where I might eat. I finally found a place that looked interesting and waiting for a table to be opened and when it did I sat and ordered. By now it was 10 pm and people were just coming out to eat dinner and I ate and watched a woman with a newborn holding it up to the fountain to show the baby its first glimpse of things in the world. The baby must have been all of a week or two old. I decided to walk again to Sacromente to see if I could find some flamenco and came upon a cave, man built one, where there were two different performances being put on for the tourist. I gather that unless one finds some spontaneous event going on flamenco is basically done for the tourist and it was very well done but had that feeling of the tourist scene. I watched for awhile until the tour buses arrive and I left and finally wandered home. At this time of year there is very little flamenco happening it seems.
A short video to give you a feeling of the caves.

Granada second week.

Its been a few days since I added to this writing and a few days since I found my guitar. Have I sat and played it for hours? Well a few times but since buying it I began focusing on what is called the "vibe" of Granada. Its that thing that one gets from a place, that thing that is infused in the people that makes the art and the music come alive. For the past year I have spent many hours a day listening to flamenco music, learning about it and trying to understand it. There is a feeling in the music that just can’t be described using words, at least not my words. Now that the search for the instrument is behind me I can start to focus a bit more on other things. When I was leaving Boston Jon said to me, get the feeling of the place, 'compas', the rhythmic foundation of the music. Compas is in the way the people move, speak, feel. The fire that comes from the way of life. The whole time I have been here I have spent time talking with people I see in the shops or on the side of the road of in a restaurant. Just idle talk, nothing important but something that allows me to feel something about this place. I have spent time just sitting and listening, feeling the rhythm.

I finally called up Miguel, a friend of Jon’s who I was to meet and to give him one of Jon’s CD. First I tried Jose Fernendez but no answer and I got Denise, Miguel’s wife who told me to call later when I was in the Albacin and they would give me directions to their house. I called and got directions from where I was standing and met Miguel on the street where he took me to show me his workshop where he repairs instruments. He also pointed out the little house called Peña Flamenco where flamenco happens on Saturday starting at around 2 am and we went to his house where I was taken to the rooftop to see the view while he finished up business with his partner. The view was everyone’s view from the Albaicin , the beautiful view of the Alhmabra and after about ten minutes he joined me and we began talking about instruments. He had a few guitars and we went downstairs where he offered me some wine and he brought out a few guitars for me to see and play. All the instruments were very old and in some state of ill health. Some were just broken and didn’t have strings while others needed a lot of work. I played each instrument and they were of the old school, one in particular was very sweet sounding and soft for a flamenco guitar and he said he wanted to sell that to a museum, it was made by someone who died a long time ago, a famous guitar maker. I had the feeling he hoped I would offer to buy it from him. One with no strings was restored in 1906. I played the various instruments and at one point he looked at me and said,
"I am not just saying this to make you feel good but you have alma, soul in your playing. You have the right feeling for flamenco.”
He then said you have to go to the peña in the other village on Saturday and I can’t go because of my health but I will take you to meet Pepe.
It seems in the flamenco world everyone has another name and Pepe or Paco are high on the list.

We entered the room where the flamenco takes place and every space on the walls were lined and covered with photos of singers and players. The room felt like a cave, I had to almost bend to get through. In this room was a bar and a tape player set up, just a boom box. We made our way to the other room where chairs were all around and small tables and again the walls lined and then to his little sitting area where the tv was on and he took me to his various cups and medals to show me what he had been given. He still is an amazing singer and his whole body had the feeling of flamenco, his small round frame moved easily and Miguel told him I was a flamenco player with the 'feeling' and he brought out a few guitars, again I felt I was supposed to want to buy one, none were very good but as I started to play them he would sing a few notes. His beginnings were like something bubbling from the depths, like something that had to surface no matter what, like breathing. We agreed on a time I would meet him at a bar on Saturday when he would take me to the village and then I was offered a CD to buy of various singers which I was happy to do. Then he wanted to play me something on a tape he had. He played a bit of a singer and then finally found what he wanted and played a piece of him singing. This piece I was told was the most difficult piece for a flamenco singer and as we listened he would look over at me as if to say, see, I told you so, and each note that was held and moved affected his body and at the end of the piece he raised his hands as though he had just finished singing it at that moment and his whole body moved with the feeling of having finished that major work and we left the room. (Here is a short clip of Pepe and Miguel listening to Pepe sing.) During this time he talked off and on waving his hands with the cigarette throwing off ashes. I found it very difficult to understand anything he said. Earlier I said he was around 70 because of his spirit but I would say he was more like 80 with only a few teeth but all the alma one could ever dream of having. At one point I found out that he had performed with the great Sabicas, one of the greatest flamenco guitarist.

I walked back to the internet café for awhile then back to the Albacin to have dinner. It was now 10.30pm and I had to wait about 20 minutes for a table and sat in the square showing some kids my video camera and reading bits of a photocopy of a book that Miguel had made of the history of flamenco in Granada. After dinner the waiter who I have seen a number of times came over and said that he was a photographer and we talked a bit about cameras and photography and I walked back down to the square to go home.

I decided to stop at a little place where I get coffee occasionally and the man who made me coffee that last time remembered that I wanted it black, no sugar or milk and as I sat I was taking a few shots and a man sitting next to me who I have seen a few times asked about the camera. Then he said to me, “ you are arab yes.” And I said no that I was not and he said of course you are, he was from Tunisia and we looked similar to each other. I said no I’m from the Bahamas and he said something to someone in Arabic and then turned to me and said, ‘repeat that please” and I said I am from the Bahamas and he laughed and said ‘Oh, I thought you said you were from Mohammad” we talked a bit and then he said did you know that we opened a new mosque recently and I said that I did know because my wife had emailed me from the Bahamas to tell me about the opening and he stopped the conversation and told everyone how I found out about the mosque and they all laughed and marveled at email. At some point he asked me if we were in the triangle and I said yes we were and he said you know in the Koran that is know as the devil’s throne. You have to be very careful. I promised I would.

Saturday July 19
Its been a few day since writing and I have to catch up. The last few days were fairly uneventful, mostly walking and taking photos.
I have become interested in wall art or the graffiti here, there is some amazing art work.
There is another page that I put up that I called textures because these were images that gave me feelings that I couldn't really describe. There are things about this place that I see that I find difficult to put into words and sometimes images help. I did do some damage in the CD shop which was fun because I got to listen to everything I wanted to have that I can’t get easily in Boston including an anthology of flamenco singing.

Yesterday I suddenly remembered that there was something I had written down about flamenco so I checked and there was something going on somewhere but I had no clue what I had written or what it meant. I asked the woman at the desk where Pinos Puente was, the event was happening at the Cologio San Pacual there and she said it was in another village and I had to take a train. I got myself together and walked to the train station to find that you had to take a bus and I found the bus and was told that the last return was at 11.00 pm. The ride there took about a half hour and I got there very early. The town had the feeling of going into the old west in America, I have never felt more out of place somewhere but I walked around a bit looking at the men sitting on a stone bench talking, women walking with goods in hand, young people moving fast on loud motor scooters. After a few minutes of that I decided that it might be best to find somewhere to eat something though it was still early. I was across the street from the place where the flamenco took place and sat in a restaurant and had a very enjoyable meal while watching the winners of the water ballet competition.
I forgot to mention that I have also during siesta time been catching up with the water ballet and its quite fascinating. It reminded me of being in Cuba and the hotel where I was staying had a pool where the women used to practice their water ballet.
Also bull fighting has been on TV. I keep waiting for the bull to win.

After eating I went to the place where the flamenco was taking place, an outdoor event with a large stage in the grounds of a school, plastic chairs set up and a bar in the back.

I guess what Angel said though is a tribute to my teacher as well. Still I am trying to understand the vibe of flamenco. Its similar to trying to understand the vibe of gospel for someone not steeped in it I imagine. How does one get the soul of another culture and can one ever really get it?
We drove home, Angel arguing with the driver the whole way about something I could not catch and occasionally he would turn to me and ask I if I understood what they were talking about which for the most part I didn’t, I was not really listening to them though the swearing was unmistakable.

A clip of Angel singing with Manuel playing

There are moments in travel when you meet people and they make your trip the trip that stays memorable, my young man in the internet cafe who smiles and asks me about the Bahamas, the man who smiles when he sees me come in to have cafe solo, he has never met someone who drinks that strong coffee without sugar or milk, the woman at the bakery who now recognizes me, the woman in the cheese shop who knows what I want, a piece of Manchego, not too big, the waiter at the restaurant in the Albaicine, Horno de Paquito, who moves so fast and yet when I sit down brings me a glass of beer before I have to order. Each of these people make the trip valuable and rich. I thought of traveling to other places in Spain to see the sights but I'm a terrible tourist. I don't like the tours and don't really care for the attractions. I love the people and getting to know them and being in a place long enough to love it and hate it at the same time. I love being somewhere long enough to start to feel the vibe of the place, of the people.

So I don't know what I've learned so far about flamenco. Hopefully I've picked up some of the vibe here and it will slowly seep into my playing. I know that this trip has been full and rich and more than I could have imagined.

Yesterday when I took my guitar to Rolf, the german guitar maker for him to see it he played it for awhile and looked at me and said, "its a very good instrument. There are not many guitars around today that play as beautifully as this one."

Before I left Granada and Rolf's shop I ended up buying a guitar from him as well. An instrument made by Ariza, a beautiful guitar that I heard a few days ago and loved the sound of it as well and decided to buy it and bring it back probably to sell to someone who was also infested with the flamenco fever that I have in my blood. Having seen so few hand made instruments I felt that I should take advantage of this moment. Traveling back with two guitars should prove interesting.

I have two more days before heading home to Boston. Today is Sunday, its quiet and I have already walked to the restaurant and had coffee, walked the streets and looked at the large church buildings, passed the music school and heard someone playing Beethoven on the piano and someone playing Debussy on the flute. Its quite today, a nice feeling after the melee of last nights tourist in the square.

PS. I'm back in Boston. Both guitars traveled well and I'm in love with my Bellido instrument. It was the smartest move I've ever made and each day I play it I enjoy it more and more.