The Impossability of the Prettier tattoo

We are walking near Muros de Nalon.  It is one of those hilltop - well, cliff top - places which suggests antiquity but has had a huge amount of development in recent times.  It has a Mediaeval church and grew as the adjunct to the nearby port - which was a centre for the unloading of coal. It has seen some matters of violence. Marshall Ney sacked the place during the Napoleonic Wars and in September 1934 a steamer full of weapons bound for Ethiopia were detained here and used in the subsequent October Rebellion. Between 1884 and 1890 artists hung around here,  Casto Plasencia was among its leads. His death saw the group dissolve.  I include At nightfall , a work by Tomás García Sampedro as a sample of their work.






I think we haven’t been to a tattoo parlour since Santiago so we will pop into Ume’s home based place of body art.  It gets 32 reviews and averages 5 stars. They have an instagram account https://www.instagram.com/umetattoo/   Five months ago Ana wrote ‘It's amazing to get a tattoo like this!!! A beautiful space and a 10 tattoo artist!!!! With the focus on doing little things with care and care... I felt at home all the time!!! And my tattoos haven't turned out any prettier because it's impossible!!!!’




Mostly we are skipping around subrural housing and gazing over walls to see the view. At the end of it we come to one of those optimistic chapels [Espiritu Santo] that sailors would pray to in hope of deliverance.  The view is spectacular.  It can be enjoyed by anyone landing at Asturias airport - across the way.  Generally it is highly favoured and those not in favour of it are a little confused why.    Maria’s 5 year old one star says ‘It is a wonderful place, with views of a coastline of spectacular cliffs.’  Nuria’s three stars was for ‘It is worth climbing the 400 steps that separate the San Esteban park from the Espiritu Santo viewpoint. You have a nice view of the cliffs and La Deva Island. You are also surrounded by impressive eucalyptus trees that leave their aroma in the air.’  







At the bottom of the cliff is what might be described as a beach but is better thought of as some rocks with a way to the sea.  On one very rough day in October a nice man warned me not to go there, presumably because the waves could carry us away.  Looking at the small boy I was with I opted for caution.




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