|
Richard Jernigan -> RE: Andres Marvi's string height (Feb. 28 2026 23:26:32)
|
quote:
I don't know much about Marvi's guitars except that they are good enough for Gerardo. What I do know is that the last time we were in Spain (2012) we stayed in a small village in the hills south of Granada, and discovered that his workshop was just around the corner. Had a nice chat with Andy but didn't need to try any guitars. Andy had a very nice dog who we would see every day as we went up to the village taps; here's a portrait. I was in Granada at the time. Saw on the Foro that you and your wife were at Ferreirola and drove down for lunch. On the main highway south from Granada you pass through "El Suspiro del Moro." The story is that in 1492, Boabdil, the Emir, was granted safe passage to Malaga after surrendering Granada to the siege of Los Reyes Católicos. He paused at the height of the pass to take a last view of the city, and wept. His mother upbraided him, saying, "If you had fought like a man instead of weeping like a woman, you would still possess the city." Turning off into the mountains I felt a connection to the landscape, though it was new to me. Instead of continuing to Malaga some of Boabdil's retinue peeled off into the Alpujarras and established themselves in the remote mountainous hinterland. My first true love was a descendant. She was 18, I was 22. Her ancestry was evident in her mother's maiden name, in her Berber blonde hair, her light complexion and green eyes. She died very young. I still dream of her a few times a year. Ferreirola is indeed remote. Driving, you reach it only after traversing miles and miles of narrow, twisty mountain roads. Returning from lunch in the next village, we walked down the hill from the parked car to your apartment, passing Marvi's house and workshop. Through an open window we could hear him at work. The dog took a bit too much interest in the leftover steak your wife was carrying, until I hissed at him like an annoyed cat. He returned promptly to his shady spot and laid down like a good boy. RNJ
|
|
|
|