Here's the amazing thing about the small town Setenil de las Bodegas: many of its buildings are in caves. Yes, that's right. How freaking awesome is that? We stayed in a cave house, with the ceilings of our bedrooms bare rock.
My family and I awoke to the sound of a mercadillo directly outside our front door. Since our cave house was on the village's main street, this made sense. Fridays were mercadillo days for Setenil. We ate breakfast (fried eggs, bread, and a bowl of chocolatey cereal) on the terrace, where Olivia and I did some birding. It's pretty great when you can see lifers from your house almost as soon as you wake up in the morning. The best thing we saw was an elegant Blue Rock Thrush, whose plumage was a silvery blue-gray embroidered with a lace-like pattern of gray speckles. We also saw a small flock of Serin, a bunch of Spotless Starlings (so cool, they aren't the nonnative, invasive European Starlings of the US, they are an entirely different species), Blackbirds, a Wren (a lifer whose Spanish name is Chochín), and a Kestrel.
After shopping at the mercadillo for some nice clothes, we walked around the town. We went into a couple of clothing stores, though we didn't buy anything, then walked up this long-ass cobblestone hill to get money from the bank. We then went back to our house and packed everything in the rental car (whose window we got fixed in Málaga, thanks to Leti's help) with only a few minutes to spare; we were supposed to be out of the house by noon, since another group of renters would arrive that afternoon.
My family and I walked up to a place that Olivia and Daddy had gone to last night on a nighttime walk. Mama and I had not been feeling up for a late stroll, so we had stayed in the cave house and chilled. We walked up and up, then got the reward of a tremendous view of the town. Then, all of us went to a shoe shop, where Daddy got some snazzy, made-in-Spain shoes. Afterward, we went to an artisan shop that Olivia and I had been to last trip. The shop was in a cave, dark froths of moss on the roof and intricately painted, handmade plates hanging from the rock walls. The owner refused to bargain at all, but we ended up getting a few beautiful items anyway.
We ate lunch outside, overlooking the river that cuts through Setenil de las Bodegas. The appetizers were anchovies in vinegar and fried bacalao. Daddy ate toast smothered with goat cheese, topped with thick layers of smoked salmon, drizzled with molasses. God, it was amazing. It was also really interesting to discover what molasses is in Spanish: miel de caña, translated literally to "cane honey." This is likely because molasses is the byproduct of the process that turns brown sugar, which is the most raw form of sugar, into white sugar. Thus, cane honey. Anyway, back to the lunch descriptions that are making my mouth water just thinking about them. Mama got callos, which is tripe soup. Yes, the least vegetarian meal on the planet, but, when in Spain. . . That was the first time I had ever tried the meaty stew, and it was awesome. Olivia got fries and chicken kabobs, which were decadently coated in rich spices. I pretty much ate off of everyone else's plates :).
Now, it was off to Madrid, Spain's capital. Daddy, Olivia, and I, had never been, and Mama had only been once, during an airplane layover. Her story of her visit is pretty funny. She went with her parents, and they had an unexpected six-hour layover in the Madrid airport en route to Málaga. My ever-cautious grandfather refused to leave the airport, he was so worried about missing the next flight. Mama and Abuelita said, to heck with staying here for six hours, we're going into the city. So, they went and got jamón serrano sandwiches and walked around a bit, then went back to the airport where Abuelito was waiting.
On our way to Madrid we, of course, got lost. This ended up being quite serendipidous. At 10pm, we took the wrong exit off of the highway and pulled over to try to figure out what we should do next. Mama suddenly looked up and, in the glare of the headlights, saw birds! They turned out to be a family of small Red-Legged Partridges, lifers for O and I! That was great, and we eventually arrived at Madrid late that night.
Saturday, October 22, 2016
Thursday, September 15, 2016
I was not in the best mood in the morning, but after buying some new clothes and showering, I felt much better. We all said heartfelt goodbyes to Leticia, Victor, Victor, and Angel, then headed off to El Chorro!
In 2014, when Olivia and I stayed in Spain for a month with our grandmother, we had visited El Chorro. It is an incredible natural area full of spectacular mountains and sapphire-blue lakes. I have honestly never seen bluer water. We all gaped at our surroundings as we drove in, then stopped at a train station to figure out where to go within the natural area. Olivia and I suggested that we go to a restaurant overlooking one of the bright lakes, where there was access to mountain trails. We all went there and hiked around a bit, taking pictures of the view. Olivia and I spotted a few Pied Flycatchers, which was the first time we had seen them this trip. We also saw a Chaffinch, which we showed Mama and Daddy. I always find that I appreciate nature even more when I am sharing it with others.
Time for dinner! We ate at the restaurant that Olivia and I had remembered from the last trip, called El Mirador. Olivia got fried eggplant drizzled with honey, which, I kid you not, tasted like the best French toast I've ever had. Daddy got bread crumbs in garlic olive oil, studded with bits of rich jamón serrano and covered with a fried egg. Mama ate fries and asparagus with alioli, and though that sounds plain, the flavors were far from bland. I had a spectacular mango, apple, and goat cheese salad. In the middle of the mixed greens was a whole wheel of goat cheese, whose sides were caramelized to a crispy brown. Walnuts rounded off the dish perfectly. Once done with our decadent meal, off we drove to Setenil de las Bodegas.
In 2014, when Olivia and I stayed in Spain for a month with our grandmother, we had visited El Chorro. It is an incredible natural area full of spectacular mountains and sapphire-blue lakes. I have honestly never seen bluer water. We all gaped at our surroundings as we drove in, then stopped at a train station to figure out where to go within the natural area. Olivia and I suggested that we go to a restaurant overlooking one of the bright lakes, where there was access to mountain trails. We all went there and hiked around a bit, taking pictures of the view. Olivia and I spotted a few Pied Flycatchers, which was the first time we had seen them this trip. We also saw a Chaffinch, which we showed Mama and Daddy. I always find that I appreciate nature even more when I am sharing it with others.
Time for dinner! We ate at the restaurant that Olivia and I had remembered from the last trip, called El Mirador. Olivia got fried eggplant drizzled with honey, which, I kid you not, tasted like the best French toast I've ever had. Daddy got bread crumbs in garlic olive oil, studded with bits of rich jamón serrano and covered with a fried egg. Mama ate fries and asparagus with alioli, and though that sounds plain, the flavors were far from bland. I had a spectacular mango, apple, and goat cheese salad. In the middle of the mixed greens was a whole wheel of goat cheese, whose sides were caramelized to a crispy brown. Walnuts rounded off the dish perfectly. Once done with our decadent meal, off we drove to Setenil de las Bodegas.
El Caminito del Rey, a tiny footpath and bridge on the cliff and across this gorge
My dad's meal
Isn't this a piece of art?
Wednesday, September 14, 2016
This is a day I have been dreading to blog about. I want to preface by saying that I refuse to let the events of this day define the entire vacation.
We planned to leave Málaga today. So, after breakfast, we headed to the beach. My family and I walked around, looking at the beautiful Mediterranean and trying out a few exercise machines in one of the many public outdoor gyms of Spain. We got drinks at a little café. I got the nube, which is something that you can only order in Málaga. In this city, there are a host of ways to order café con leche. Victor Sr. had explained all of the varieties the night before during dinner, though we had all already known a couple. Nube means a little bit of coffee and a lot of milk, which makes since because the word means cloud in Spanish. Sombra, shade, means a bit more coffee in the milk-to-coffee ratio. Corto is about half-and-half, and there are many more options. Don't try to go anywhere but Málaga and order a coffee like this, they won't understand you. Isn't that cool how every city has some vernacular or item that is unique to only that place?
Now, we did what Mama has been looking forward to this entire trip: we sat on the terrace of a restaurant overlooking the Mediterranean Sea and ate fresh sardines, roasted to perfection. This city is known for it's seafood, and with good reason. We had a splendid lunch.
When we got back to our rental car, we saw that we had gotten robbed. The side window was smashed in, the trunk open. The robbers had taken all of our suitcases and backpacks, minus one: Mama had left her huge suitcase unzipped, and they must have not wanted a bunch of clothes. Ironically, they had taken my dad's suitcase, although all that contained was all of our dirty laundry. Let me tell you, if you ever want to clean out your closet, pack almost all of it in a suitcase and get robbed! Honestly, a perk to this was getting almost an entirely new wardrobe. The best thing was that they had not bothered to look in the seats, where our binoculars, Kindles, and mini-scope were covered with jackets. The worst things were the violation of safety that we then felt and the journals that they had taken, precious to us and worthless to them. It broke my heart that they had done this while we were sitting by the sea, eating and laughing and talking, oblivious that strangers were stealing things that we cared about. Although the most expensive things that they took were a computer, iPad mini, and Nikon camera, what was most saddening was the creative documents that we lost. My dad lost much of the screenplay he is writing, I lost almost all of the poetry I've ever written. But, do not get me wrong, it could have been so much worse. None of us were physically hurt, and we were all together.
We went to the comisaría, police station, escorted by two kind and attractive police officers. I remember learning that word in Spanish class, and it had stuck with me because of how strange it was; why not just call it estación de policía? I'm not sure if I'll ever know the answer to that question, but what I do know is that that police station helped us. We explained what had happened and the items of great monetary value that we had lost. Everyone that we interacted with was very kind and in no way condescending. After we left, we called Leticia and her family and asked if we could take Victor up on his offer to stay with them in Málaga. They, of course, said yes, and we drove to their apartment to spend the night.
We planned to leave Málaga today. So, after breakfast, we headed to the beach. My family and I walked around, looking at the beautiful Mediterranean and trying out a few exercise machines in one of the many public outdoor gyms of Spain. We got drinks at a little café. I got the nube, which is something that you can only order in Málaga. In this city, there are a host of ways to order café con leche. Victor Sr. had explained all of the varieties the night before during dinner, though we had all already known a couple. Nube means a little bit of coffee and a lot of milk, which makes since because the word means cloud in Spanish. Sombra, shade, means a bit more coffee in the milk-to-coffee ratio. Corto is about half-and-half, and there are many more options. Don't try to go anywhere but Málaga and order a coffee like this, they won't understand you. Isn't that cool how every city has some vernacular or item that is unique to only that place?
Now, we did what Mama has been looking forward to this entire trip: we sat on the terrace of a restaurant overlooking the Mediterranean Sea and ate fresh sardines, roasted to perfection. This city is known for it's seafood, and with good reason. We had a splendid lunch.
When we got back to our rental car, we saw that we had gotten robbed. The side window was smashed in, the trunk open. The robbers had taken all of our suitcases and backpacks, minus one: Mama had left her huge suitcase unzipped, and they must have not wanted a bunch of clothes. Ironically, they had taken my dad's suitcase, although all that contained was all of our dirty laundry. Let me tell you, if you ever want to clean out your closet, pack almost all of it in a suitcase and get robbed! Honestly, a perk to this was getting almost an entirely new wardrobe. The best thing was that they had not bothered to look in the seats, where our binoculars, Kindles, and mini-scope were covered with jackets. The worst things were the violation of safety that we then felt and the journals that they had taken, precious to us and worthless to them. It broke my heart that they had done this while we were sitting by the sea, eating and laughing and talking, oblivious that strangers were stealing things that we cared about. Although the most expensive things that they took were a computer, iPad mini, and Nikon camera, what was most saddening was the creative documents that we lost. My dad lost much of the screenplay he is writing, I lost almost all of the poetry I've ever written. But, do not get me wrong, it could have been so much worse. None of us were physically hurt, and we were all together.
We went to the comisaría, police station, escorted by two kind and attractive police officers. I remember learning that word in Spanish class, and it had stuck with me because of how strange it was; why not just call it estación de policía? I'm not sure if I'll ever know the answer to that question, but what I do know is that that police station helped us. We explained what had happened and the items of great monetary value that we had lost. Everyone that we interacted with was very kind and in no way condescending. After we left, we called Leticia and her family and asked if we could take Victor up on his offer to stay with them in Málaga. They, of course, said yes, and we drove to their apartment to spend the night.
Café con leche "nube"
Olivia's pretty hair :)
Every time we come to Málaga, we walk in the Paseo Maritimo de Antonio Banderas
This is the awesome way that sardines are grilled
Tuesday, September 13, 2016
After waking up and eating churros with chocolate, we went to Málaga proper. We walked around for a bit, then ate lunch at a restaurant near the middle of the city. Olivia and my dad ordered one of my favorite meals: fries covered in jamón serrano, topped with two fried eggs. God, it's heavenly. I ordered a shrimp kabob which was cooked to perfection and sprinkled with vibrant spices. We visited the Picasso Museum, which Olivia and I went to two years ago, and thoroughly enjoyed it. My favorite part was the video clips of Picasso doing quick paint-sketches on transparent glass. It fascinates me how he could make a few odd lines create a creature or person.
My family and I then shopped around, bought a few gifts for family and friends, and then sat down at a pastelería (pastry shop) to eat a few pastries and drink tea. Well, actually, I was the only one who ordered tea. Everyone else just ate pastries.
Now, it was off to visit more family! We went to visit Mama's first cousin Leticia, her husband, Victor; their sons, Victor and Angel (who really is angelic); and Cristian, the nineteen-year-old son of Leticia's identical twin sister, Sandra. We took them all out to dinner for only 60 €, and ate an enormous amount of food. Every drink came with a free appetizer, and after that, we got main dishes and dessert. Cristian and us kids talked about names that can and cannot be translated between English and Spanish. Harry and Elizabeth, for example, can really only be said in English. There was one name that Cristain said that made us all laugh our heads off, and he said that it was not only limited to the Spanish language, it would never leave the southern redneck-country of Spain. Then, we began talking about more serious things, like politics. This began because Victor (Sr.) asked us if we were voting for Trump, to which we kind of exploded and asked why he even had to ask such a ridiculous question. Cristian, Olivia, and I then started talking a bit about Franco and Hitler's relationship. It was so great to hang out with all of them.
Mama, Daddy, Olivia, and I walked back with our extended family to their apartment, and we ended the night by Victor Sr. saying that we were welcome to stay the night whenever we came back to Málaga. Man, I have a wonderful family.
My family and I then shopped around, bought a few gifts for family and friends, and then sat down at a pastelería (pastry shop) to eat a few pastries and drink tea. Well, actually, I was the only one who ordered tea. Everyone else just ate pastries.
Now, it was off to visit more family! We went to visit Mama's first cousin Leticia, her husband, Victor; their sons, Victor and Angel (who really is angelic); and Cristian, the nineteen-year-old son of Leticia's identical twin sister, Sandra. We took them all out to dinner for only 60 €, and ate an enormous amount of food. Every drink came with a free appetizer, and after that, we got main dishes and dessert. Cristian and us kids talked about names that can and cannot be translated between English and Spanish. Harry and Elizabeth, for example, can really only be said in English. There was one name that Cristain said that made us all laugh our heads off, and he said that it was not only limited to the Spanish language, it would never leave the southern redneck-country of Spain. Then, we began talking about more serious things, like politics. This began because Victor (Sr.) asked us if we were voting for Trump, to which we kind of exploded and asked why he even had to ask such a ridiculous question. Cristian, Olivia, and I then started talking a bit about Franco and Hitler's relationship. It was so great to hang out with all of them.
Mama, Daddy, Olivia, and I walked back with our extended family to their apartment, and we ended the night by Victor Sr. saying that we were welcome to stay the night whenever we came back to Málaga. Man, I have a wonderful family.
This was hanging in a bathroom. It's V for Vendetta in Spanish! :)
My awesome family
Monday, September 12, 2016
Today, my family and I woke up at the ungodly hour of 6:40. HAHA!! I love that any time before 7am seems ridiculously early in September, because for the last four years of my life, 6am was the norm. Man, although I sometimes miss school (yes, I really do; I honestly enjoy learning and getting assignments done), I do NOT miss being forced to wake up so early. Plus, this early hour was for something more enjoyable than math class at 7:25am--we were going hiking. We went up the mountain overlooking Casas Bajas and the nearby town, Casas Altas, gaping at the fantastic views and listening to the church bells toll the hour. Funnily enough, we heard the bells of three towns, and every town was separated by two minutes. Weird, huh? It was a beautiful symphony, both to the ear and eye: the bells singing, the sunrise staining the sky, and the towns slowly turning from the blue of shade to the gold of sunshine. During the hike, Olivia and I, of course, saw many birds: the Blue Tit (yes, tit, now stop giggling, you immature people. British people chose to call various species of birds, similar to our Carolina Chickadee and Tufted Titmouse, tits.), Great Tit, Blackbirds, Black Redstart (lifer!), Stonechat, Dartford Warbler (lifer!), Sardinian Warbler, Rock Bunting, and Crested Tit. During our almost-three-hour hike, we also stopped to pick some almonds fresh off of almond trees and took pictures of a really cool hut near the top of the mountain.
By the time we got back to the house, we were famished. Other than a few delicious figs we had picked directly off of a tree, we had not eaten breakfast. We went to a store and bought breakfast foodstuffs, than went to make our meal. Right outside of the house, I saw another lifer: the Nuthatch!!! In the States, my favorite bird is the Brown-Headed Nuthatch, and I had never before seen its European counterpart. I quickly got Olivia, and we got a great look at the inquisitive bird before going inside and wolfing down our breakfast. Breakfast was decadent: a cheese sandwich with tomato rubbed on the bread, bread with nocilla, and kiwis, figs, and paraguayos (a sweet, juicy fruit that I lament has yet to make it to the US).
Since we were leaving Casas Bajas today, we had to furiously shower and pack to get out of the house (which was made in the 1800s, by the way, with gorgeous beams and quirky doors) before going for a walk around town. When we were hungry, we got lunch at a bar/restaurant (every restaurant here is known as a bar/restaurant, because every one of them serves alcohol). My family and I ate at a table next to a group of old men, who, during a Monday afternoon, were playing cards, betting, cursing, and drinking beer. Olivia and I each got sandwiches for lunch. These were no usual sandwiches: the cooks had cut an entire loaf of bread in half, with each of us getting a half; rubbed tomato on it, covered it with slabs of mouth-watering jamón serrano, and drizzled each with rich olive oil and spices. I also had manchego on my sandwich. Needless to say, we had some left for the car ride.
On the road to Málaga. Though the trip was supposed to take seven hours, it took us nine. Have I mentioned the trouble we had with directions and driving in Spain? The entire time, I read The Orphan Train. Oh my god, unless you're reading Harry Potter, read that book right now. It is stunning, showing the ugly and beautiful mirrors of humanity. I finished it at 1:00am the next morning, and felt like crying when I was done. No, the crying part was not a spoiler, I was just overjoyed to have experienced such a powerful book and heartbroken to be done with it. Finally, I went to sleep.
By the time we got back to the house, we were famished. Other than a few delicious figs we had picked directly off of a tree, we had not eaten breakfast. We went to a store and bought breakfast foodstuffs, than went to make our meal. Right outside of the house, I saw another lifer: the Nuthatch!!! In the States, my favorite bird is the Brown-Headed Nuthatch, and I had never before seen its European counterpart. I quickly got Olivia, and we got a great look at the inquisitive bird before going inside and wolfing down our breakfast. Breakfast was decadent: a cheese sandwich with tomato rubbed on the bread, bread with nocilla, and kiwis, figs, and paraguayos (a sweet, juicy fruit that I lament has yet to make it to the US).
Since we were leaving Casas Bajas today, we had to furiously shower and pack to get out of the house (which was made in the 1800s, by the way, with gorgeous beams and quirky doors) before going for a walk around town. When we were hungry, we got lunch at a bar/restaurant (every restaurant here is known as a bar/restaurant, because every one of them serves alcohol). My family and I ate at a table next to a group of old men, who, during a Monday afternoon, were playing cards, betting, cursing, and drinking beer. Olivia and I each got sandwiches for lunch. These were no usual sandwiches: the cooks had cut an entire loaf of bread in half, with each of us getting a half; rubbed tomato on it, covered it with slabs of mouth-watering jamón serrano, and drizzled each with rich olive oil and spices. I also had manchego on my sandwich. Needless to say, we had some left for the car ride.
On the road to Málaga. Though the trip was supposed to take seven hours, it took us nine. Have I mentioned the trouble we had with directions and driving in Spain? The entire time, I read The Orphan Train. Oh my god, unless you're reading Harry Potter, read that book right now. It is stunning, showing the ugly and beautiful mirrors of humanity. I finished it at 1:00am the next morning, and felt like crying when I was done. No, the crying part was not a spoiler, I was just overjoyed to have experienced such a powerful book and heartbroken to be done with it. Finally, I went to sleep.
Sunday, September 11, 2016
This was our last day in Pineda del Mar :(. After getting up, packing, and eating, we headed to Pineda's beach for the last time. Our hosts, Carlos and Ana, sent us off with hugs and kisses. We ate a small breakfast of sandwiches with orange juice and/or café con leche. I had a delicious cheese and tomato sandwich.
Off to the next place: Casas Bajas. It was about a six hour drive, and we stopped about midway for lunch at a tiny town called Sot de Ferrer. We went to a bar (which, during siesta time, was not serving food) after struggling to find a place to park, where we (of course) met the only foreigner in the entire village. He was British and known as el inglés, the Englishman, by everyone. He had this enormous sandwich, and we asked him where he got it. He told us to go to a nearby restaurant, where he said the waitress would serve us anything we wanted. She did! We were the only people there, and there was no menu. She just asked us what we wanted and fixed it up for us. We got a tomato salad (and I'm not normally a fan of huge pieces of raw tomato, but these were fresh and the best tomatoes I've ever had), bread, olives, a plate of my favorite cheese, manchego; and fried calamares. We ate the delicious food, talked, and glanced at the ridiculously dramatic and corny American soap opera with Spanish dubbing. Of course, the fact that the soap opera was translated made it even more hilarious, because along with the crazy plot and incessant overacting, the Spanish voices are all the same. I'm not even kidding; every dubbed movie, show, or commercial that I watch here has the exact same voices for the women and men in the production. It doesn't make sense, because you'd think that a lot of Spanish-speaking voice actors might be interested in translating shows or movies, right? I just don't understand it.
Okay, enough ranting about translated TV. Our waitress was a very nice Colombian women that has lived in this small town for fifteen years. Once we were done eating, she offered us café con leche, which all of us except Mama accepted (Mama doesn't like coffee). We walked around the town for a little bit longer, taking pictures of the man-made stream running through the village and looking at the old architecture. Then, we were off again.
Once we arrived to Casas Bajas, we met our hostess, Carmen, whose personality was great and whose curly hair I envied :). Olivia and I were desperate to do some birding, so we went on a walk with our binos and saw: Melodious Warblers, a growing flock of about one hundred House Martins, Magpies, and more, along with two donkeys and a horse. The sunset was breathtaking, the sun turning the tiny town gold as the surrounding mountains shimmered. After a small dinner at a restaurant ten minutes away from our new house, we went to sleep.
Off to the next place: Casas Bajas. It was about a six hour drive, and we stopped about midway for lunch at a tiny town called Sot de Ferrer. We went to a bar (which, during siesta time, was not serving food) after struggling to find a place to park, where we (of course) met the only foreigner in the entire village. He was British and known as el inglés, the Englishman, by everyone. He had this enormous sandwich, and we asked him where he got it. He told us to go to a nearby restaurant, where he said the waitress would serve us anything we wanted. She did! We were the only people there, and there was no menu. She just asked us what we wanted and fixed it up for us. We got a tomato salad (and I'm not normally a fan of huge pieces of raw tomato, but these were fresh and the best tomatoes I've ever had), bread, olives, a plate of my favorite cheese, manchego; and fried calamares. We ate the delicious food, talked, and glanced at the ridiculously dramatic and corny American soap opera with Spanish dubbing. Of course, the fact that the soap opera was translated made it even more hilarious, because along with the crazy plot and incessant overacting, the Spanish voices are all the same. I'm not even kidding; every dubbed movie, show, or commercial that I watch here has the exact same voices for the women and men in the production. It doesn't make sense, because you'd think that a lot of Spanish-speaking voice actors might be interested in translating shows or movies, right? I just don't understand it.
Okay, enough ranting about translated TV. Our waitress was a very nice Colombian women that has lived in this small town for fifteen years. Once we were done eating, she offered us café con leche, which all of us except Mama accepted (Mama doesn't like coffee). We walked around the town for a little bit longer, taking pictures of the man-made stream running through the village and looking at the old architecture. Then, we were off again.
Once we arrived to Casas Bajas, we met our hostess, Carmen, whose personality was great and whose curly hair I envied :). Olivia and I were desperate to do some birding, so we went on a walk with our binos and saw: Melodious Warblers, a growing flock of about one hundred House Martins, Magpies, and more, along with two donkeys and a horse. The sunset was breathtaking, the sun turning the tiny town gold as the surrounding mountains shimmered. After a small dinner at a restaurant ten minutes away from our new house, we went to sleep.
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| Where we ate our brilliant lunch |
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| Though this is a really low-quality picture, this is the gathering flock of House Martins |
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| Donkey |
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| Daddy posing with a metal sculpture of a hiker in Casas Bajas |
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#birders :)
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