It took much of my life to get to Spain. But I’ve known it — the Spain of blood and sand, flamenco, theater and poetry — since I was a child in Puerto Rico. Madrid evoked marvel and dreams for us, and my mother longed for the crimson geraniums of Seville and the dirges of Granada, reciting García Lorca’s lines, “Verde, que te quiero verde. Verde viento. Verde ramas”
— Luisita Lopez Torregrosa
 

Menorca

 

 
 

andalucia

 

 
 

north Spain

 

 
 

valencia

 

 
 

girona

 

 
 

tenerife