Bull versus Man (well 5 men, a horse, some knives, a spear and a sword)

Alright, everyone is requesting that I write about the bullfight, so here we go...

I spent three days in Seville. The first day I was there I was checking email in the common area and met four guys - Ruben from Toronto, David from Houston (who, while working in Fallujah, almost had his hand blown off), Ben (I forget where he´s from), and Aaron from Oregon. The four of them were all traveling solo but had met each other at different points along the way. They were talking about attempting to get tickets to a bull fight later that evening and asked if I wanted to come along. I figured, hey, when in Spain...(which has sort of been my motto so far for this trip). About an hour later, we´re walking to the stadium, arrive right before the match/fight/slaughter (I´m not sure what the technical term is) was about to start and somehow managed to scalp $45 euro tickets for $20. I honestly had no idea what to expect. My only experience with bullfighting was from watching it on TV at the bar in Madrid.

The way it works is the bull comes charging into the ring, un-speared and full of energy. There are between 3-5 guys (we were calling them fluffers, again not sure if this is a technical term or not) with pink capes. They put on a show, waving their capes, having the bull charge at them, either swerving out of the way, or if the bull is coming especially fast, ducking behind a wooden barrier. The fluffers put on a show for a few minutes, then a horn blows and it´s time for the second act -- two guys on horses. The horses are blindfold and coated with some sort of armor. The guys on the horses have long spears. At some point, the bull charges the horse, hits the horse and gets speared by the guy on top. The horse act was my least favorite. The only purpose I could see was to maim the bull. The guy on the horse was not in danger because he was high enough up that the bull couldn´t reach him. I wasn´t so psyched that the horse, who was blindfolded, just had to take these hits from the bull without having any idea what was going on.

The fluffers at least had some skill and impressive footwork. Also there was a clear hierarchy even among the fluffers. It was obvious some were pretty new at this -- they would wave their cape and then immediately run behind the wooden barrier. Others stayed out in the ring, doing almost a dance with the bull, who at this point is charging hard and fast. The most impressive move was when one of the fluffers moved his cape just so and the bull hit the ground, horns first, propelling him upwards and then completely over into a sommersault.

So after the horses, come the knife guys. They have these decorated long knives, with points that I don´t think are too long, sort of like thumb tacks at the end, but longer for decoration and so the guys can hold them. Anyways, these guys provoke the bull to charge at them (they have no cape to swing away at the last minute, it´s just them versus the bull), then they also run at the bull, throw the knives into it´s back/neck area and dodge out of the way at the last minute. This one is also impressive because it seems pretty dangerous. The bull is only slightly maimed and a little tired out from all the running, so it´s still coming at the guy pretty fast.

After two of these guys have a go at the bull, the horn blows again and out struts the matador (seriously, every matador has a strut)....By this time the bull is heaving to catch its breath, bleeding, and has at least two of the knife thingys dangling from its back. Not exactly in top form. But to his credit, the matador gets extremely close to the bull, and to see how the two of them move together is pretty interesting. I have both photos and video, which I swear I will post, sometime soon. The video is interesting because I have video of the bull versus the fluffer and the bull versus the matador and the change in the speed of the bull is glaringly obvious.

So, in total, three matadors "battled" seven bulls and killed six. The bull that sommersaulted from the fluffer was spared (apparently the landing broke something, so it couldn´t do the turns). The first bull was half dead by the time the matador came out. And by half dead I mean that on its first charge at the matador, it collapsed. The fluffer had to instigate it to get it back up. So at this point I´m pretty disgusted by the whole thing. But it seems that there is a ranking even among the bulls because as the match went on, the bulls were more alive by the time the matador came out. The fifth bull was especially fiesty, and the matador was especially daring. His body was brushing the bull´s, as he barely edged out of the way. Then on one charge, the bull hit him. The matador flipped over the bull and landed as the crowd screamed and the fluffers rushed out to shield him from further bull charges. The fluffers are picking him up and start to help him out of the arena, but the matador is resisting and you can tell there is a struggle (I´m sure some of it was dramatized for effect) between the matador wanting to finish and the fluffers who don´t want him to get killed in front of a packed arena. My first thought was, well the bull has to fight to the death, so should the matador.

So the matador finishes the fight and kills the bull.

All in all, it was an extremely intense experience. I´ve never witnessed an animal that large get slaughtered. And I saw it 6 times. I´m glad I went, but I don´t think I will ever go again. My bullfighting companions all said the same thing and we all decided that we wish we had understood a little more about why it was such an important part of the Spanish culture. Although we did determine that bullfighting must be why the Spanish eat dinner so late. Watching six large mammals die slow, gruesome deaths doesn´t exactly pique one´s appetite.

Traveling Women

As a woman traveling alone one of my main concerns was with the guys I would inevitably meet. But so far, every guy I met has been great and oddly it's the women I've met that I've had issues with. I´m in Granada right now and it just so happened that three of the guys I went to the bull fight with in Seville are also in Granada, staying at a different hostel. So we decided to meet up. The hostel I was staying at had planned a tapas bar crawl, so I invited them along and as it happened, another girl they had met on their journeys was also at the hostel, so it was all working out. Until I actually met said other girl and her friends and they proceeded to ignore me all night. To be fair I shouldn´t say that they all ignored me. It was mostly one, but unfortunately she seemed to control the attitude of the group. So when she wasn´t around I actually had some pretty great conversations with the others, but when she was around, I pretty much did not exist. For example, there were five of us hanging out, she decides we should all do shots so goes to the bar and comes back with four shots, proceeds to hand them out to everyone but me. And right now, there are two of them sitting next to me, but I don´t really feel like I have to worry about writing this, bc I don´t think they even notice I exist.

On the other scale of the spectrum, every time I´ve met a woman traveling alone, it´s been a great experience. She´s been friendly and up for hanging out. But for whatever reason, whenever I meet more than one woman traveling in a group they seem to not only not be interested in knowing me, but want to make every effort to show that they´re not interested. Women are weird.

Sant Jordi

Alright, so I´m falling behind on my blogging, I know....It turns out the best time to blog is super late at night (by super late, i mean like 5:30am) when there are no distractions and people aren´t waiting to use the computer. Also, I think I might have screwed up the computer at the last hostel by downloading photos, so I´m not sure when I´ll be able to post more, plus now I´m in Granada and my photos are on a computer in Seville. Anyways, I should have some time to write so I´ll try to sum up the last few days.

My last day in Barcelona I was feeling pretty tired from all the sightseeing, ultimate and going out. So I had resolved to take it easy and enjoy the day in a park that I hadn´t visited yet. But it also happened to be Sant Jordi Day, which I didn´t think would be a big deal because it was described to me as like Valentine´s Day in the U.S. However, Barcelona takes it holidays seriously. Sant Jordi, is the patron saint of Catalonia, who became famous for slaying a dragon that was about to devour a princess. Once dead, a rosebush grew out of the dragon´s blood (or at least that´s one of the stories I found when I googled Sant Jordi). Anyways, it became tradition for guys to give girls roses as a symbol of love and girls to give guys books as a symbol of culture. (The book giving didn´t evolve until 1923, when Sant Jordi Day merged with International Book Day. Barcelona is also the book publishing capital of the world.) Nowadays, book giving goes both ways and vendors take the opportunity to set up tents and tables all along Las Ramblas where they sell books. Las Ramblas itself is packed with people and there is live Catalan music and dancing all day long in the Plaza de Catalunya. Even though it was technically a work day, the streets were so packed I would have sworn that the entire city was out.

After spending the day walking around, people watching and listening to the music (I did eventually make it to the park I wanted to go to and also the Arc de Triomph), I caught a flight to Seville, where there was of course another holiday to be celebrated...

English, por favor

You know you're having a good trip when you start falling asleep while standing up, on a moving train, mid-sentence of the new Spanish phrase you've just learned.

Barcelona was amazing. After a few days in Madrid of barely being able to talk to anyone, I hopped an overnight bus to Barcelona. Both Rocky and Shaun said not only would I love it, but I would never want to leave. Well, they were right. Barcelona was awesome and I can't wait to go back.

I spent the first two days walking everywhere. Each day I would start with a destination in mind, like Parc Guell, a park designed by the famous architect Gaudi, or La Catedral, a cathedral that sits within this entire neighborhood of gothic architecture, or the temple of la Familia Sagrada, another Gaudi piece of work. But everytime I set out with one destination in mind, I would end up going a million different places, half of which I don't know the names b/c they weren't in any tour guides. I would just be walking and think ooh, that looks cool, and then walk down an alleyway and stumble upon an amazing plaza, or just a really interesting neighborhood. So yes, I loved Barcelona. My hostel experience at the Sant Jordi Alberg was about one hundred times better than my experience at the Pop Hostel in Madrid, but that was just part of it. The other two nights I was in Barcelona I stayed with David, an ultimate player who Rocky knows. That turned out to be an awesome experience, b/c he lives in Barcelona, is fluent in Spanish and knows a lot of the history of Barcelona (and I got to play ultimate, which is always a plus).

But, one of the most interesting experiences was the interaction between David, Mariano and myself. Mariano does not speak English very well and I speak approximately zero Spanish. But Mariano was one of the nicest, most outgoing, friendly persons I've met so far in Spain. It was clear it pained him not to be able to talk to me in English (which I tried to tell him was not his fault sinceI was in his country and couldn't speak Spanish). So we had some interesting interactions that involved a lot of hand gesturing, some frustration and even some hurt feelings. What stuck with me though, was that he kept coming back, kept trying to communicate, and although we never really succeeded in having a full conversation, I feel like we both left the meeting feeling some connnection and common ground--the common ground of constantly having to battle a language barrier. David and everyone else was fluent in both Spanish and English, so they would easily switch between the two in the same conversation. Sometimes they would be talking in English so I could understand and sometimes they would talk in Spanish so Mariano could understand. But always, one of us was left out of the conversation. Usually at some point we would make eye contact and give each other the 'yeah, i know how it feels look' and sometimes the two of us would attempt to have our own conversation, but it was always a very time consuming and exhausting process that left both of us feeling inadequate. And while there was always a sense of humor and a sincere intention that went along with these failed attmepts, it was clear we both prefered our own languages. So I was both shocked and touched when at one point, David, Ben and Mariano were joking around in Spanish and Mariano looks at me and says, 'say it in English for Monica.'

(pics below are at the beach where we played ultimate. that is david and mariano.)

Hook, line, and sinker

Yep, I got scammed. I'm actually kind of embarassed to tell this story, because it was a pretty obvious scam, one that I've seen before and never fallen for because it's *that* obvious. So in Barcelona there's this area called Las Ramblas, basically a big street with lots of vendors, street artists, etc. So there's this guy doing the trick with the three cups and there's a ball under one of the cups, and he moves them around and you have to guess which cup the ball is under. Right, we all know not to bet on that. Well somehow I got sucked into betting on it. Not once, but twice. And all in a matter of like 10 seconds. I could see it happening and hear myself saying this is a terrible idea, do not hand him your money. You're going to lose. But it was too late. And I lost. Twice.

On language and pigs

One thing that has becoming glaringly obvious to me on this trip is the importance of language. I speak zero Spanish, and for whatever reason thought that would not be a problem when traveling to Spain (can we say egocentric American?). I didn´t even buy a freakin book of key Spanish phrases for christ´s sake. Anyways, I´ve found that it is a problem and while I´m really making an effort to try and pick up bits of Spanish here and there, it´s really hard to talk to anyone. And after awhile of "hablo ingles?", being the first thing out of my mouth, I start to feel like a moron for not being able to communicate even the simplest of things, like ordering from a menu, asking for and receiving directions, etc. Also, pretty much everyone in my Madrid hostel spoke Spanish, and Spanish only, except for a couple of people - Adriana, who was from Brazil, but now living in Los Angeles (she actually speaks Portugese, English and Spanish), and Gary, from Texas, who also speaks Spanish and is moving to Madrid to teach English. By the second day of being surrounded by people my age but totally unable to interact with them, I found that all I wanted to do was to go hang out in the English cafe/bookstore, where I could actually have a conversation with the girl there, who happens to be moving to San Francisco in two weeks (small world). That obviously defeats the purpose of traveling to foreign countries, which isn´t to go and find the one place that is familiar, but to actually experience something different.

So, by mid-afternoon of day three in Madrid, I decided to try and integrate myself. Feeling satisfied with the number of touristy stuff I had done, I set off on my own (up til then, Adriana had sort of been my translator). First I took the metro to go and buy a bus ticket to Barcelona. The metro in Madrid, is great and very easy to use, so by now I was pretty confident with it. And I must have looked confident and not like a tourist, because someone stopped to ask me for directions. I was psyched until I realized that I had no idea what he had said and all I could answer with was "no hablo espanol." Nonetheless, I managed to successfully buy my bus ticket speaking only in Spanish and hand gestures. Feeling like I deserved a reward, I set off to find a cervecceria (or bar/cafe). Finding one that looked pretty authentic, I walked in and sat down. There was bullfighting on TV and legs of pig hanging from the wall (I´ve found that ham, cheese and bread are pretty major staples of the diet here. So much so, that there was one restaurant that was called the bar de jamon, and served only stuff made from pig). Right, so anyways, I sit down at the bar and order. "Una cerveza, por favor." For some reason, when ordering a beer, you don´t have to specify. If you say una cerveza, you just get whatever´s on tap. My order got me not only a beer, but also an appetizer - two pieces of bread, one with tomato and mozarella and the other with pork (most likely coming from the pig´s leg hanging in front of me) and a slice of red pepper. (That´s another thing, when you order a drink here, you always get some kind of a snack, either what I got, chips, bread or nuts.) So I get my drink, am hanging out with the locals and watching bullfighting. The bartender proceeds to slice the pig´s leg hanging in front of me, but the portion he´s slicing has been cured, to some kind of bacon or something. He´s slicing all these little pieces onto a small plate, preparing the snack for his next client. He sees me watching and hands me a slice. I have to admit, by this time, with an entire pig´s leg (hoof and everything) hanging directly in front of me, the bullfighting on tv, which was just starting to turn bloody, and my pork and bread snack still untouched, the slice of cured pork (or whatever it was) was probably the least appetizing thing he could have handed me. But since it was a friendly gesture and I hadn´t received many of those, I forced myself to stomach it and stay for the rest of the bullfight (the bull lost). I then paid my bill ($1.50), thanked the guy (gracias is another word I know), and vowed never to eat pork again.

More Madrid

My second day of Madrid I did the whole tourist thing, visited the Royal Palace, the Museum of Reina Sofia (a modern art museum), and some famous plazas. Madrid has all these plazas. Some are pretty small, neighborhoody plazas, which are cool, because you´re walking around these tiny streets that open up into a big plaza, usually with outdoor cafes, benches and sometimes a fountain or grassy area. Other plazas are bigger and more touristy, usually commemorating some historical event. The Plaza de Mayor is the biggest and most touristy of them all, reminded me of Fisherman´s Wharf - tons of stores all selling the same cheesy tshirts, knick knacks and postcards.

The Reina Sofia was pretty amazing. Four floors of art, including Picasso´s Guernica, which covered an entire wall. And I´m not even a big fan of museums : )

The Royal Palace was interesting, both for its size (2,800 rooms, 20 of which are still used today) and its extravagance. For example, of the 2,800 rooms I´m going to say at least 1,000 were waiting rooms. Almost every room we went through on our tour was built originally as a bedroom, but as the palace expanded, was turned into a waiting room. Exactly who waited in the rooms and for what, was unclear. Also, the King, Charles (the 3rd, I think), had a thing for clocks, so the Palace has over 400 clocks in it, some of them very intricate and most of them made out of gold. Finding the clocks is kind of like a game of Where´s Waldo, since most of them are made to blend in with the furniture and decorations. For example, there is a mantlepiece of a horse drawn chariot, and the wheel of the chariot is the clock. Anyways, I could go on about the different rooms in the Palace, but I can´t really do it justice without the photos, which I will hopefully be posting soon.

Credit Cards

The good thing about using credit cards abroad is the exchange rate is pretty good. The bad thing about using credit cards abroad, is that if you don´t tell your credit card company you are abroad, they eventually put a hold on your card because your recent activity is not consistent with your profile. It´s a great security feature unless you´re in the middle of reserving travel accomodations for the next several days. Then it´s a bit stressful.

Madrid

Ok, I finally remembered what my password was to get to my blog. The fact that the entire site is in Spanish doesn´t help much either. Oh well.

My first day in Madrid I spent pretty much wandering the city and feeling a little overwhelmed at not being able to understand anything or anyone. However, the first place I happened to stumble upon was a tiny cafe/used bookstore that had books in English. jandjbooksandcoffee.com. After going god knows how many hours without sleeping, coffee was the first thing on my mind. Second, was finding a travel book on Madrid. I was in luck on both accounts and the girl at the counter even taught me how to ask for a map of Madrid in Spanish - tienos une planos.

Some notable things about the city that I discovered on my first day
1. All the stores and restuarants keep the most random hours. It´s hard to know when anything is going to be open. Some places shut down for siesta, which seems like it can be from anywhere between 3 and 6 p.m. Another dead time is 9 pm - too early for dinner and going out, but too late for stores to be open. My first night, myself and another girl from the hostel, Adriana, decided we were going to find a tapas bar. The guy at the hostel recommended El Tigre - buy a drink and eat taps for free. Sounded good to us, unfortunately it was closed. But we figured, hey we´re in Spain, it can´t be too hard to find a tapas restaurant. That´s where we were wrong. After walking around for what seemed like forever - either the places we found were closed (unclear if we were too late or too early) or they were only bars. So we settled for bocadillas instead - small sandwiches.

2. Aside from a few main roads, the streets are tiny. They are all one-way and so narrow that the bigger trucks barely fit, and when they have to turn, usually end up taking over the sidewalk as well. The sidewalks are also tiny, sometimes not even able to fit two people across. Also, everything is covered in grafitti. It´s weird, b/c we´re in a nice area of town with tons of boutique clothing shops, little cafes and bars, but the walls have all been spray painted.

More on Madrid later...

The last hours

True to form, it is 3am, my flight leaves at 7 am, and I am still finishing up last minute packing. Or more accurately, procrastinating packing while I type this. It's a little surreal to think that what started out as a daydream from being completely frustrated by work and life in general, is now reality.

My "Itinerary"

My mom recently asked me to send her an itinerary of my travels for the next two and a half months. Seeing as I've only bought one ticket and am leaving in a week this is going to be difficult. But my plan as of now is that I'm flying into Madrid, Spain, probably spending a few days there, traveling down to the coast with stops along the way, then taking the ferry over to Morocco, spending X number of days in Morocco and then going down to Ghana.

I'm keeping this blog at the request of some friends and also because I'm starting school in the fall and since quitting my job am a bit out of writing practice. Fortunately, I'm pretty sure NYU can't recant their acceptance.

Anyways, I welcome any and all comments or suggestions for how to make this an interesting blog. And yes, I know the name is totally unoriginal, but hopefully it will be easy to remember.