Profile
Blog
Photos
Videos
The ferry from Rome to Barcelona seemed to be sort of a cruise liner. It had a swimming pool, shops, restaurants and even a casino on board, which was quite nice as we had to spend 20 hours on it.
In Barcelona we had booked into a hotel for Sira's birthday, which was a nice change from living in a tent. Barcelona is a city which seems to welcome cyclists. There were cycle paths all around the city. The architecture was one of the things which was most interesting. Modernist buildings stood alongside 'normal' ones.
After thinking over how to tackle Spain, we decided the best starting point would be Madrid. Between Barcelona and Madrid there were harldy any camp grounds and lots of mountains to climb, so we got on a nightbus taking us to Spains Capital.
We were walking in Madrid with the city map in our hands when we saw that there was an arena marked on the map which stated that it was for bull fighting. Intrigued and convinced that in this modern day and age this would be a spectacle and not really the bull fighting as used to be, we went to inquire at tourist information. They let us know that there were shows once a week on Sundays. So turned out we were lucky to be here on Sunday and that tickets were quite cheap.
At the arena there were lots of families with young children, so it really wouldn't be anything too gruesome, or so we thought. As the first bull came into the arena, it still seemed to be a show. The toreros were using their capes to attract the bull and make it run around the areana. No harm done yet. But then came the sound of a trompet and out came the picadors. These men on blindfolded horses had long spears with them.
The bull charged at the horses and the picadors then stuck their spears in the bulls neck. Sometimes the bull would actually lift the horse up with its horns. Good thing the horses had a complete harnas on.
On the second sound of the trompet, the picadors went away and the toreros tried to put a shorter sort of a spear in the bulls neck.
Then out came the matador with the red cape. He was the one to finish the bull off. He used his sword to plant it in between the shoulderblades of the bull and within a couple of moments, the bull would collapse and die.
It was strange to be sitting watching a bull being slaughtered for entertainment and stranger still to see that, for the Spanish, this is a normal as going to watch a football match.
Tomorrow we set off into the Extremadura, making our way towards Portugal.
- comments