Asturias Is Spain…

…And The Rest Is Conquered Land

There’s a popular saying in Spain, principally in Asturias, a province on the Bay of Biscay in Northern Spain, which goes:

Asturias es España, y lo demás tierra conquistada.

Asturias is Spain, and the rest is conquered land.

It makes reference to the Battle of Covadonga, 722 A.D. when the troops of Don Pelayo, king of Asturias, defeated the invading Moors. The battle is considered the starting point of the reconquista, the reconquest of Spain from the Moors (a long process of wars which ended with the taking of Granada in 1492). Legend would have it that Pelayo and his 300 defeated an army of 180,000 Moors. Historically speaking, it’s more likely that the Moors were not quite so numerous, nor Pelayo’s lot so few but – why spoil the legend? It’s still a famous victory for those defending their homeland.

Don Pelayo in Covadonga by Luis de Madrazo y Kuntz, 1855. Courtesy of the Museum of Prado

As a consequence of Don Pelayo’s victory, Asturias has never been conquered by the Moors which explains the above saying.

Covadonga

I dragged my hard-tried family to Covadonga last summer. Similarly to the time when I dragged them (screaming) to Delphi, once again they couldn’t quite grasp why I wanted to visit some godforsaken historical site, but all my sins were forgiven once we got there.

When you see the location – a gorgeous gorge – you can readily understand how a small army could defend the place. The battle site is commemorated by a church, a statue of Don Pelayo and a little chapel on the other side of the valley (dedicated to the Virgen of the Battles who aided the forces of Pelayo) set into the Santa Cueva, the Holy Cave, right on top of a waterfall on Mt Auseva. All very spectacular and well worth a visit for the beauty & atmosphere of the location alone, even if you want to ignore the historical connotations.

(Click on the gallery to enlarge the pictures.)

Al Quama entered Asturias with 187,000 men. Pelayo was with his companions on Mount Auseva and the army of Alkama [sic] came to him and pitched innumerable tents in front of the entrance of a cave. Bishop Oppas climbed a hill opposite the cave and he spoke to Pelayo thus:

“Pelayo, Pelayo, where are you?”

The man so addressed appeared at a window and replied:

“Here I am.”

Then the bishop said:

“I judge, brother and son, that it’s not hidden from you how a little while ago the whole of Spain was united under the government of the Goths and shone more than other countries for her doctrine and science, and that, nevertheless, the entire united army of the Goths could not withstand the force of the Ishmaelites; can you defend yourself on this mountain top? It seems difficult to me. Listen to my advice: return to your agreement [ie. resume paying tribute to the Moors], you will enjoy many goods and enjoy the friendship of the Chaldeans.”

Then Pelayo replied:

“Did not you read in the Holy Scriptures that the church of the Lord will become like the mustard seed and grow again by the mercy of God?”

[…]

Alqama[sic] then ordered the combat to begin, and the soldiers took up arms. They raised the slings, the catapults were prepared, the swords flashed, the lances were brandished, and arrows were launched incessantly. But at once the magnificence of the Lord was shown: the stones that came out of the slings and arrived at the house of the Virgin Santa María, who was inside the cave, turned against those who shot them and killed the Chaldeans. And since God does not need spears, but gives the palm of victory to whomever he wants, the Chaldeans began to fly …

Chronicle of Alfonso III (Cronica Rotensis)

 

You may also like / Quizás también te gusta:Asturias, el secreto mejor guardado de los españoles (Asturias, the best kept secret of the Spanish)
⇒ A Brief (Literary) History of the Reconquista - coming to this blog soon!
⇒ A Short Pictorial History of RibadesellaThe Chronicle of Alfonso III, Cronica Rotensis (in Latin)Ulysses Found (or our trip to Delphi)
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Land of Giants

Leer esto en castellano

Or The Windmills of Don Quixote

Unexceptional

The Lonely Planet guide about the La Mancha town of Campo de Criptana reads:

One of the most popular stops on the Don Quijote route, Campo de Criptana is crowned by 10 windmills visible from kilometres around. Revered contemporary film-maker Pedro Almodóvar¹ was born here, but left for Madrid in his teens. The town is pleasant, if unexceptional.

Actually, unexceptional doesn’t even begin to describe the town if you arrive by train (Campo de Criptana is on the mainline from Madrid to Albacete, the capital of Castile-La Mancha). Downright ugly might be a better description: as in many Spanish towns, the railway station is on the outskirts, in this case surrounded by industrial buildings of little appeal. Luckily, Campo de Criptana is a small place and fifteen minutes walk will bring you to the centre of town.

Which is unexceptional.

Statue of Cervantes, Campo de Criptana

But you don’t really want the centre of town. You’re a reader, a reader of Don Quixote at that, and what you want is the famous windmills, the giants that Don Quixote fought. Head uphill from the unexceptional Plaza Mayor with its obligatory Cervantes statue, through the Albaícin – the old Moorish quarter -, through the narrow cobblestoned alleys, between whitewashed houses edged in indigo blue… it sounds better already, doesn’t it? There. As you turn the corner, you spot your first windmill. And there are other nine to come.

A Miller and a Thief

Being a miller and a thief is one and the same.

(Castilian proverb)

In 1752, the land survey of the Marquis of Ensenada counted thirty-four windmills here; an earlier survey ordered by Philip II in 1575, the Relaciones Topográficas, simply mentions – rather more vaguely – “many windmills”.

People came here from all over the neighbourhood to have their wheat ground. For the millers, for the town, this was a source of riches. As lingering evidence of the proverbial dishonesty of millers, one of the 16th century windmills goes by the name of El Burleta, corrupted over the centuries from Burlapobres (ie. Tricking the Poor).

The Sierra de los Molinos, Windmill Hill, still boasts three original 16th century mills; the ones Cervantes saw, the ones Don Quixote took for giants. For paltry two euros you can enter one of them and a guide will explain about the machinery inside. Working machinery: on the first Sunday of every month, the mills are still armed with sails and grind wheat. The other seven windmills are more modern constructions, albeit rebuilt from the original stones. The oficina de turismo is located in one of them.

The Land of Giants

Tierra de gigantes / Land of giants

The hill of windmills is tiny. Hardly merits the name of hill, really. But when you reach the top and look around, you feel as if you’re on top of the world. This is the famous Spanish meseta, the Castilian meseta, with the red soil Federico García Lorca sang about and its utter emptiness under a stupendous sky.

These fields are an immense symphony of congealed blood without trees, cool respite or shelter for the brain, full of superstitious prayer, broken lances, enigmatic villages…

(Federico García Lorca: Sketches of Spain)

 

Las ruinas de un granero / The ruins of a grain store, Campo de Criptana, Castilla-La Mancha

There’s nowhere to hide here. You’re exposed to the elements, to the wandering eyes of your fellow humans and to your God, should you have one.

The landscape of La Mancha dotted with windmills is no more rigorously divided into heaven and earth than the Dutch polder. It is an extreme division, unmitigated by temptations, valleys, romantic corners. Most of the meseta is as hard for a man to hide in as the flatlands of the Netherland. A man is always visible between heaven and earth, silhouetted against the sky…

(Cees Nooteboom: Roads to Santiago)

The weather rolls in. You can see it coming from a long way off. Two cyclists stand out as stark silhouettes against the empty sky. There are the four windmills on a distant hill, near Alcazár de San Juan. As you wander, you can find the ruins of old grain stores. You can see the odd olive grove. El Toboso, the home of Dulcinea, is about 20 km northeast. Two low flying fighter planes scream through the sky.

There is nothing really here, apart from the windmills, the sky and the red soil of the windswept, half-barren meseta. But if you walk out on the meseta far enough and look back, the windmills do look like giants. With the tiniest bit of imagination.

You are in Don Quixote country.

At this point they came in sight of thirty forty windmills that there are on plain, and as soon as Don Quixote saw them he said to his squire, “Fortune is arranging matters for us better than we could have shaped our desires ourselves, for look there, friend Sancho Panza, where thirty or more monstrous giants present themselves, all of whom I mean to engage in battle and slay, and with whose spoils we shall begin to make our fortunes; for this is righteous warfare, and it is God’s good service to sweep so evil a breed from off the face of the earth.”

“What giants?” said Sancho Panza.

“Those thou seest there,” answered his master, “with the long arms, and some have them nearly two leagues long.”

“Look, your worship,” said Sancho; “what we see there are not giants but windmills, and what seem to be their arms are the sails that turned by the wind make the millstone go.”

“It is easy to see,” replied Don Quixote, “that thou art not used to this business of adventures; those are giants; and if thou art afraid, away with thee out of this and betake thyself to prayer while I engage them in fierce and unequal combat.”

So saying, he gave the spur to his steed Rocinante, heedless of the cries his squire Sancho sent after him, warning him that most certainly they were windmills and not giants he was going to attack. He, however, was so positive they were giants that he neither heard the cries of Sancho, nor perceived, near as he was, what they were, but made at them shouting, “Fly not, cowards and vile beings, for a single knight attacks you.”

A slight breeze at this moment sprang up, and the great sails began to move, seeing which Don Quixote exclaimed, “Though ye flourish more arms than the giant Briareus, ye have to reckon with me.”

So saying, and commending himself with all his heart to his lady Dulcinea, imploring her to support him in such a peril, with lance in rest and covered by his buckler, he charged at Rocinante’s fullest gallop and fell upon the first mill that stood in front of him; but as he drove his lance-point into the sail the wind whirled it round with such force that it shivered the lance to pieces, sweeping with it horse and rider, who went rolling over on the plain, in a sorry condition.

Sancho hastened to his assistance as fast as his ass could go, and when he came up found him unable to move, with such a shock had Rocinante fallen with him.

“God bless me!” said Sancho, “did I not tell your worship to mind what you were about, for they were only windmills? and no one could have made any mistake about it but one who had something of the same kind in his head.”

(Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra: Don Quixote de La Mancha)

Notes:
¹If one can believe Wikipedia (and why not?), Almodóvar was born in Calzada de Calatrava - only about a 100 km difference!

You might also like:Don Quixote (available for download or online reading on Project Gutenberg)
⇒ Campo de Criptana (Lonely Planet)
⇒ Cees Nooteboom: Roads to Santiago 
⇒ Federico García Lorca: Sketches of Spain

Tierra de Gigantes

Read this in English

O los molinos de Don Quijote

Nada excepcional

El artículo de Lonely Planet sobre el pueblo manchego Campo de Criptana dice:

Una de las paradas más populares en la ruta de Don Quijote, Campo de Criptana está coronado por 10 molinos de viento visibles desde kilómetros. El respetado cineasta contemporáneo Pedro Almodóvar¹ nació aquí, pero se fue a Madrid en su adolescencia. El pueblo es agradable, aunque nada excepcional.

De hecho, la frase nada excepcional ni siquiera comienza a describir el pueblo si llegas por tren (Campo de Criptana está en la línea principal de Madrid a Albacete, la capital de Castilla-La Mancha). Feísimo podría ser una mejor descripción: como en muchas ciudades españolas, la estación de tren está en las afueras, en este caso rodeada de edificios industriales poco atractivo. Afortunadamente, Campo de Criptana es un lugar pequeño y quince minutos a pie te llevará al centro de la ciudad.

Lo que es nada excepcional.

Statue of Cervantes, Campo de Criptana

Pero la verdad es que no quieres el centro de la ciudad. Eres un lector, un lector de Don Quijote además, y lo que quieres son los famosos molinos de viento, los gigantes con los que luchó Don Quijote. Diríjase cuesta arriba desde la Plaza Mayor con su obligatoria estatua de Cervantes, a través del Albaícin, el antiguo barrio morisco, caminando por los estrechos callejones adoquinados, entre casas encaladas y bordeadas de azul añil … ya suena mejor, ¿no? Ahí. Al doblar la esquina, ves tu primer molino de viento. Y hay nueve más por venir.

 

Molinero y ladrón

Molinero y ladrón, dos cosas suenan y una son.

En 1752, el censo del Marqués de la Ensenada registraba treinta y cuatro molinos de viento aquí; un estudio anterior, las Relaciones Topográficas de Felipe II (1575) menciona – en forma algo más vaga – “muchos molinos”.

 

La gente vino aquí de todo el vecindario para tener harina. Para los molineros, para el pueblo, eso significó la riqueza. Uno de los molinos del siglo XVI se llama El Burleta, corrompido de Burlapobres, un nombre que probablemente hace alusión a la proverbial falta de honradez del molinero.

La Sierra de los Molinos aún cuenta con tres molinos originales del siglo XVI; los que vio Cervantes, los que don Quijote tomó por gigantes. Por sólo dos euros puedes entrar uno de ellos y una guía te explicará la maquinaria que se encuentra dentro. Aún es maquinaria de trabajo: el primer domingo de cada mes los molinos están equipados con aspas y muelen trigo. Los otros siete molinos de viento son construcciones más modernas, si bien es cierto que son reconstruidas de las piedras originales. La oficina de turismo se encuentra en una de ellas.

Tierra de gigantes

Tierra de gigantes

La colina de los molinos es pequeña. Apenas merece el nombre de cerro, de verdad. Pero cuando llegas a la cima y miras a tu alrededor, te sientes como si estuvieras en la cima del mundo. Esta es la famosa meseta española, la meseta castellana, con su tierra roja sobre el que cantó Federico García Lorca y su vacío absoluto bajo un cielo estupendo.

Estos campos, inmensa sinfonía en sangre reseca, sin árboles, sin matices de frescura, sin ningún descanso al cerebro, llenos de oraciones supersticiosas, de hierros quebrados, de pueblos enigmáticos…

(Federico García Lorca: Impresiones y paisajes)

Las ruinas de un granero, Campo de Criptana, Castilla-La Mancha

No hay donde esconderse aquí. Estás expuesto a los elementos, a los ojos errantes de tus semejantes y a tu Dios, si es que tienes uno.

El paisaje de La Mancha salpicado de molinos de viento no está más rigurosamente dividido en cielo y tierra que el pólder holandés. Es una división extrema, no mitigada por las tentaciones, los valles, los rincones románticos. En la mayoría de la meseta es tan difícil para un hombre ocultarse como en las llanuras de los Países Bajos. Un hombre siempre es visible entre el cielo y la tierra, recortada contra el cielo…

(Cees Nooteboom: El desvío a Santiago)

Las nubes negras empiezan a llegar; las puedes ver desde muy lejos. Dos ciclistas aparecen como siluetas austeras contra el cielo vacío. Hay cuatro molinos de viento en una colina distante, cerca de Alcazár de San Juan. Caminando, puedes encontrar las ruinas de los antiguos graneros. Puedes ver algunos olivares. El Toboso, el hogar de Dulcinea, está a unos 20 km al noreste. Oyes el estruendo de dos aviones de combate que vuelen sobre la tierra en una altitud muy baja.

La verdad es que no hay nada aquí, aparte de los molinos de viento, el cielo y la tierra roja de la meseta árida, azotado por el viento. Pero si caminas por la meseta lo suficiente y miras hacia atrás, los molinos de viento parecen gigantes. Con un poquito de imaginación.

Es que eres en la tierra de Don Quijote.

 

En esto, descubrieron treinta o cuarenta molinos de viento que hay en aquel campo, y así como don Quijote los vio, dijo a su escudero:
—La ventura va guiando nuestras cosas mejor de lo que acertamos a desear; porque ves allí, amigo Sancho Panza, donde se descubren treinta o pocos más desaforados gigantes, con quien pienso hacer batalla y quitarles a todos las vidas, con cuyos despojos comenzaremos a enriquecer, que esta es buena guerra, y es gran servicio de Dios quitar tan mala simiente de sobre la faz de la tierra.
—¿Qué gigantes?—dijo Sancho Panza.
—Aquellos que allí ves —respondió su amo— de los brazos largos, que los suelen tener algunos de casi dos leguas.
—Mire vuestra merced —respondió Sancho— que aquellos que allí se parecen no son gigantes, sino molinos de viento, y lo que en ellos parecen brazos son las aspas, que, volteadas del viento, hacen andar la piedra del molino.
—Bien parece—respondió don Quijote—que no estás cursado en esto de las aventuras: ellos son gigantes; y si tienes miedo quítate de ahí, y ponte en oración en el espacio que you voy a entrar con ellos en fiera y desigual batalla.
Y diciendo esto, dio de espuelas a su caballo Rocinante, sin atender a las voces que su escudero Sancho le daba, advirtiéndole que sin duda alguna eran molinos de viento, y no gigantes, aquellos que iba a acometer. Pero él iba tan puesto en que eran gigantes, que ni oía las voces de su escudero Sancho, ni echaba de ver, aunque estaba ya bien cerca, lo que eran, antes iba diciendo en voces altas:
—Non fuyades, cobardes y viles criaturas, que un solo caballero es el que os acomete.
Levantose en esto un poco de viento, y las grandes aspas comenzaron a moverse, lo cual visto por don Quijote, dijo:
—Pues aunque mováis más brazos que los del gigante Briareo, me lo habéis de pagar.
Y diciendo esto, y encomendándose de todo corazón a su señora Dulcinea, pidiéndole que en tal trance le socorriese, bien cubierto de su rodela, con la lanza en el ristre, arremetió a todo el galope de Rocinante y embistió con el primero molino que estaba delante; y  dándole una lanzada en el aspa, la volvió el viento con tanta furia, que hizo la lanza pedazos, llevándose tras sí al caballo y al caballero, que fue rodando muy maltrecho por el campo.
—¡Válame Dios!—dijo Sancho—.¿No le dije yo a vuestra merced que mirase bien lo que hacía, que no eran sino molinos de viento, y no podría ignorar sino quien llevase otros tales en la cabeza?

(Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra: El ingenioso hidalgo Don Quijote de La Mancha)

Notas:
¹ Si se cree Wikipedia (y ¿por qué no?), Almodóvar nació en Calzada de Calatrava. Sólo cosa de 100 kilómetros!

Quizás también te gusta:Don Quixote (en inglés en el Project Gutenberg)
⇒ Campo de Criptana (por Lonely Planet)
⇒ Cees Nooteboom: El desvío a Santiago 
⇒ Federico García Lorca: Impresiones y paisajes

Florence, City of the Renaissance

Renaissance – rebirth – is the Medieval realisation that the classical world, in particular Greece, has something to offer us. One of the places where you can observe Renaissance best ‘in action’ is the Italian city of Florence, in Tuscany, a northern region of Italy. For all that it’s a famous tourist destination, I wouldn’t recommend it unless you do enjoy immersing yourself in the Renaissance – because apart from that, there’s not a lot else to do.

Continue reading “Florence, City of the Renaissance”

The Aegean (Aqua & Azure)

 

My last minute entry to the Pic & A Word Challenge Aqua and Azure

You might also like:Sailing the Aegean with Odysseas ElytisThe Caldera of SantoriniThe Temple of Poseidon at Cape Sounion

Out Of This World: The Brighton Space Elevator

After more than half a year of limiting myself to taking holiday photos, last week I suddenly remembered that I used to work my way through the 2016 Dogwood Photography Challenge. For those of you who don’t know, this is a 52-week challenge aimed at helping you to become a better photographer (it’s been extended to 2017 and now 2018 as well) and you can thank it for the only picture of me that you’re ever going to see on this blog – due to the fact that the week 1 challenge required a self-portrait…

Continue reading “Out Of This World: The Brighton Space Elevator”

Caravels (Carabelas)

Caravels were the preferred ships for discovery of the Portuguese and the Spanish in the 15th and 16th century on account of their seaworthiness, speed and manoeuvrability, not to mention their shallow draught which allowed the close exploration of unknown coasts. Bartolomeu Dias, Vasco da Gama and Columbus all sailed in caravels; one of Magellan’s ships was a caravel too. Having recently read a book about Portuguese explorers and visited Portugal, I noticed these famous ships (perhaps understandably) were just about depicted everywhere…

Carabelas fueron los naves preferidos de los navegantes portugueses y españoles en la era de los descubrimientos en los siglos XV y XVI, debido a su navegabilidad y velocidad, por no mencionar que por ser barcos de poco calado los navegantes pudieron acercarse más a las costas desconocidas. Bartolomeu Dias, Vasco da Gama y Cristóbal Colón navegaban en carabelas; uno de los naves de Magallanes también fue una carabela. Como acabo de leer un libro sobre los navegantes portugueses, en mi viaje reciente a Lisboa me fijaba en como esos barcos famosos eran representados en todas partes (tal vez con razón)…

Continue reading “Caravels (Carabelas)”

Gone Sailing

Last week, on the River Tagus, or as the locals call it, the rio Tejo, off Lisbon in Portugal.

It was sunny, thirty degrees and serene on the river. The engine had been turned off; we were under sail only. Young Friend of the Elephants was steering a yacht of 12 metres (she seems to have developed a knack to get respectable captains handing her the wheel), and managed to avoid container ships, the timetabled ferry and the pillars of the bridge. Mr Anglo-Saxonist asked our amiable captain if he thought the Mediterranean would be fine for amateur sailors. He didn’t. (I’ve been saying so for years but you can’t get an Englishman to respect the Mediterranean. It’s not big enough for them.)

But I digress. We’re on the Tagus, off Lisbon.

Enjoy. (As usual, click to open the gallery.)

You might also like:
Tagus River CruisesRest in Peace? The Wandering Remains of Christopher Columbus

In the Footsteps of the Swallows and Amazons: Around Lake Coniston

Pirates on Lake Coniston

If this post will have any merit, it won’t be in the quality of the photos, taken from a distance from a moving boat; it will be in the subject.

For fellow admirers of Arthur Ransome‘s Swallows and Amazons, here follows part two of Waterblogged’s tribute to Arthur Ransome and the beauty of the Lake District: today we’re going on a tour around Lake Coniston.

Continue reading “In the Footsteps of the Swallows and Amazons: Around Lake Coniston”

In the Footsteps of the Swallows and Amazons: Climbing the Kanchenjunga

One of the most engaging books I read as a child was Swallows and Amazons, and its sequel, Swallowdale by Arthur Ransome. (I didn’t get to read more of the series until later.)

Last week, we visited the Lake District and went to see the locations where the books take place. Young Friend of the Elephants, a firm fan of Swallows and Amazons, even lugged the books with her on the trip.

This is our joint tribute to the beauty of Lake Coniston and the genius of Arthur Ransome. (Click on the images to enlarge them.)

Continue reading “In the Footsteps of the Swallows and Amazons: Climbing the Kanchenjunga”

Mediterranean Brilliance

Mediterranean brilliance hit me like a bolt of lightning; the whole of human life was enacted on a single, fabulous, public stage against a careless backdrop of thousands of years of sublime art. Colours, foods, markets, clothing, gestures, language: everything seemed more refined, more vivid, more vibrant…

(Cees Nooteboom)

Spain in Black & White IV (España en blanco y negro IV)

Let’s not let March go by without some pictures of Spain…

Marzo no debe transcurrir sin fotos de España…

P.S. I think this will be the last post of Mediterranean Mondays (unless there are howls of protest). It's been running for a long time and I fancy a change. I will still continue to write and post photos about the Mediterranean of course; it just won't be always on Monday.

P.D. Creo que esto será el último post de Mediterranean Mondays (a menos que hayan aullidos de protesta). Llevo escribiendo esta serie mucho tiempo y me apatece un cambio. Por supuesto, seguiré escribiendo y publicando fotos del Mediterráneo, es que no será siempre el lunes.

A Day’s Hiking (No One Writes to the Colonel)

Two years ago I read No One Writes to the Colonel (El coronel no tiene quien le escriba) by Gabriel García Márquez on the train en route for a day’s hiking. (It was just the right length.) Yesterday it was the first genuinely nice day of the year, so we went hiking; and I re-read No One Writes to the Colonel on the train.

I mean the first time round I thought it was brilliant and my Spanish is two years better now.

It’s BRILLIANT.

(The day’s hiking wasn’t bad either.)

There’s only one problem with No One Writes to the Colonel: I feel completely discouraged from picking up any of García Márquez’s other books ever again: there’s no way  he could have surpassed this one.

In fact, I know he didn’t think he ever did.

You might also like:Gabriel García Márquez, Minus Magical Realism

In Memoriam: Azure Window (La Ventana Azul)

The Azure Window in Dwejra Bay on the Maltese island of Gozo made headlines last week – not for a good reason. The rock formation, one of the most popular tourists sights on the small island, has disappeared without a trace during a storm.

I had the good fortune to see it when it was still there – so for today’s Mediterranean theme, a few photos of the Azure Window in memoriam (click photos to enlarge):

In Memoriam: La Ventana Azul

La Ventana Azul en la bahía de Dwejra en la isla de Gozo en Malta salió en las noticias la semana pasada – y no por una buena razón. Esta formación rocosa, uno de los más populares lugares de interés turístico en la isla pequeña, ha desaparecido sin dejar un rastro durante una tormenta.

Tuve la suerte de verla cuando todavía estaba allí – así que para el tema del Mediterráneo de hoy, algunas fotos de la Ventana Azul in memoriam (haz clic en las fotos para ampliar):

Continue reading “In Memoriam: Azure Window (La Ventana Azul)”