Oktoberfest / Ibiza (Sep'12)

Well, sometimes you have to do what every one else does.

Apart from over-consumption of beer, music, sleep deprivation, and a fair share of hangovers, the most ‘memorable’ part of this trip was that I had my first brush with misplaced baggage.

Ibiza-Barcelona-Munich was the route and the layover at Barcelona was an hour only. Sure enough, on landing at Munich, I was not surprised to find that my bag had not reached.

After a brush with German bureaucracy (‘Please fill this form. And then this one’) l was off to the hotel (sans a change of clothes).

My flight to Delhi was in exactly 24 hours and I was told that the next flight from Barcelona (with my bag, hopefully) would reach in 18 hours. Which is where I found myself 18 hours later.

I was nervous about getting the bag (and completing the paperwork) in time for my check in. Anyways, I had to go through security to reach the ‘lost baggage’ section. Took a wrong turn and had to go through security a second time – I was sure that some smart police official would catch me and ask, in his Germanic tone, “Sir, why are you going through security again and again? Could you please step aside?”

Since I am not updating this blog from a German jail, I managed going through the security a second time (a rather nervous fifteen minutes).

On reaching the ‘lost baggage’ section, I was told that my baggage was ‘most probably’ coming on the Barcelona flight which was ‘on time’. The ‘on time’ was re-assuring but the ‘most probably’ was not. And I was pointed towards the baggage carousel for the Barcelona flight.

Standing there, watching everyone else excepting for me, pick up their baggage from the carousel, I had a sense of Déjà vu. When there were only three people left waiting for their baggage (apart from me), I laughed out loud wondering what my Plan B would be. Do I take my flight to Delhi sans my baggage? Or Do I skip that flight? Mentally I made a note of how important my stuff in the bag was.

Fortunately, I did not reach that fork in the road and I saw my bag. Long story short – this is what I remember from my trip – and not the extraordinary amount of beer and paracetamol guzzled and not the thump-thump-thump-thump in the Ibiza night clubs at five in the morning.

Salamanca and Toledo (May'12)

I was last in Madrid in December, 2008. It was the peak of winter but I enjoyed my four days there (much more than my four days in Barcelona in January, 2010). This time I was not doing much sightseeing in Madrid but merely using it as a base to explore the towns of Toledo and Salamanca.

Maybe it was all those news items about the recession in Spain, and Europe, but I felt that there seemed to be more beggars and more pickpockets than I experienced on my last visit in 2008. I decided to take the metro into town on my way in and, in the process, almost made the day of some pickpocket. As I was navigating a set of stairs (lugging my suitcase) I felt something against my back pocket – when I reached the top of the steps and looked back I saw a Roma woman just a step behind me (sorry for reinforcing stereotypes, but true story). Fortunately, my wallet is always deeply rammed into my back pocket and even I have to struggle to take it out so I think it is really difficult for someone to secrete it out without my knowledge. But not wanting to take any chances, I immediately moved it to a front pocket.

After checking into my hotel, I was loitering around the Puerta del Sol (for those who ask, The Tio Pepe sign was under scaffolding). I did a fair bit of bar-hopping between Puerta del Sol and Plaza Mayor before I noticed a wee shop selling bull-fighting tickets for that day at the Plaza de Toros. As I was reading Hemingway’s ‘Death in the Afternoon’ at the time (to put into perspective the corrida I had seen at Sevilla), I decided, on the spur of the moment, to buy a ticket and go for the bullfight. It is a testimony to Hemingway’s skill with the written word, and his ability to explain things, that I was able to partly understand the corrida this time. So much so that I was able to make out that each of the six fights that evening were quite terrible.


The next day, I took an early morning train (hour long journey) to Salamanca to loiter about there. In the town, where most of the buildings are built in sandstone, there is a beautiful glow, especially in the evenings. The town is famous for its University – the main university building has a lovely façade and they say that if you can spot a frog on the carvings in the façade one of the following things may happen – you’ll learn Spanish, good luck will be bestowed upon you, or you’ll return to this town. Neither of these might happen to me since I was unable to spot the frog amongst the intricate carvings. My excuse was that the façade was covered with scaffolding (the second time in two days!).

The centre of town is the Plaza Mayor, a handsome square with lovely buildings – this square, built in 1775, is a nice place to do some beer-drinking and people-watching. There are a number of bars and restaurants dotting this square which was the scene of the action in the recent movie ‘Vantage Point’ (though the movie itself was shot mainly in Mexico).

Suitably inebriated, I then explored the rest of town for its other sights like the Old and New Cathedrals (from the 16th - 18th c), a 16th century ‘House of shells’ (which has about 350 sandstone shells on its façade), and a Peunto Romano (a bridge from the 1st AD) from where I got a beautiful view of town and it’s buildings.

As always, the combination of beer and the inability to locate toilets is a problem in Europe. Having consumed copious quantities of the golden liquor, I had to rush to a McDonalds, much against my wishes, before running back to the train station to catch my train into Madrid.


The next day, I did a similar day-trip to Toledo which, at one point, was the capital of Spain. The town has a number of beautiful gates and from the top of the bell tower, I could see a sea of tiled roofs spread out before me. Toledo's most famous sight is the 13th century Cathedral which has a beautiful altar and where there a number of stunning paintings by artists such as Goya and El Greco (Toledo’s most well-known resident!).

El Greco (1541-1614) was so called because of his Greek ethnicity (his real name was Domenikos Theotokopoulos). He was born in Crete and lived in, among other places, Venice, Rome, and Madrid, before moving to Toledo in 1577 where he lived for the rest of his life.

El Greco’s paintings are distinctive in their use of imagination, drama, and colour and the use of light. One of El Greco’s most famous paintings is ‘The Burial of the Count of Orgaz’ in the Santo Tome Church in Toledo. However, I loved the Museo de El Greco – a house which is recreation of El Greco’s home when he stayed in Toledo.

That was the last thing I saw in Toledo before catching the train back to Madrid.


Next stop – Porto.

Death in the Afternoon and passion in the evening (May'12)

Before my trip to Cuba, I decided to take a break (yes, before not after!) in Spain and Portugal. I’ve been to Madrid and Barcelona (I liked the former more than the latter, contrary to conventional wisdom), and have seen no other part of Spain. So I decided to spend about a week in Andalucia.

A long day – overnight flight from Delhi to Paris, six hours wait at Paris airports, and a short flight from Paris – bought me to the Andalucian capital Sevilla (that’s what the Spaniards call it). I am a bit apprehensive about reaching a new city after dark (this one landed after 20:00). It was only when I landed in Sevilla that I remembered that the European summer means long days. There was bright sunlight, even though it was around 20:30, and I took the airport bus instead of the taxi (which I would have done if it were dark). Whilst I was waiting for the bus I got chatting with this rather roguish looking local and a helpful English student who made sure I reached my hotel.

I was staying right next to the Cathedral in Santa Cruz barrio (quarter) which was the Judeira (Jewish quarter) in medieval times - this area has picturesque narrow streets and rather touristy (and un-touristy) bars. It would take me quite a while to get from one end of a street to the other as I would spot yet another bar and would head in for a quick, and cheap, beer. The atmosphere in the local bars was very different from the touristy ones. In the latter you would see tourists, sitting at the tables, talking softly with cameras, guide- and phrase-books on their tables, looking at the menu and wondering what to order. In the local bars, everyone would be standing – as if in a hurry to down the beer and move to the next bar – talking loudly, gesticulating, and enjoying the free tapas (in Andalucia, a drink entitles you to some free tapas!).

The Sevilla Cathedral is an impressive structure bang in the middle of old town - after Seville was 'reconquered' by the Christians in 1248, the main mosque continued to be used as a Church till the early 15th century, when the mosque was broken down to build a church (one of the largest cathedrals in the world - the architects apparently said "we're going to construct a church so large that future generations will think we were mad"). However, the 90m minaret 'la Giralda' was not broken down and still stands as one of Spain's best preserved Islamic structures. Inside the Cathedral there are numerous Chapels - the cathedral also houses the tomb of Christopher Columbus – which have some lovely paintings by Goya (including the famous 'Santa Justas y Rufina') and Murillo.

Close to the cathedral is the Alcazar, which was the royal palace of past kings and caliphs. The sumptuous palace has a large halls, patios, beautiful gardens and fountains. Here I saw a peacock strutting it's feathers (yes, I've never seen one in 'full bloom' before).


Christopher Columbus sailed for the Americas from Spain and claimed the territory and trade of Americas for Spain. Sevilla was the only port which was awarded a monopoly for trade with the Americas - consequently, all goods, and more importantly, gold, that was brought from the Americas passed through Sevilla. This continued till the 16th century when this monopoly was dismantled and the port of Cadiz was also authorised to trade with the ‘new world’. All the gold that came from Americas was, apparently, stored in the Torre Del Oro (‘Gold Tower’). It is believed that there was ‘silver tower’ too (which no longer exists). The ‘Archivo General de Indias’ contains more than 80 million documents relating to the discovery of and maintenance of trade in the Americas.

The two things which I really wanted to do in Sevilla were to go for a Flamenco show (I ended up going for three!) and for a bullfight (I ended up going for two! – one in Sevilla and one in Madrid). Many restaurants have nightly flamenco shows and it is a matter of choosing the right one, though it honestly doesn’t make a difference which show you go for, if you are totally ignorant about the dance form, as I am.

Basically, for the Flamenco there are three essentials – a guitarist, a singer, and a dancer. What I loved about the dance was the energy behind it – I found it extremely violent (in a good way), intense, and passionate. One of the most famous Flamenco dancers from Sevilla was Cristina Hoyos, who was instrumental in setting up the 'Museo del Baile Flamenco' which I found very informative and interesting, especially after having seen a couple of Flamenco performances and getting some understanding of the dance form.


The Plaza de Toros (bullfighting ring) is amongst the oldest in Spain (dating back to 1758). Now bullfighting (corrida) is a cruel sport no doubt, but I thought it would be interesting to see a bullfight to experience first-hand what the fuss was about. A bullfight is all about spectacle – the setting is very atmospheric, scenic, and colourful. Usually in an evening there are 6 bullfights – two each by different matadors. And sadly, the outcome of each of these ‘fights’ is that the bull is killed cruelly after being taunted for the better part of half an hour by capes, swords, and banderillas (pointed sticks).

There are three stages in a corrida – the first is when the matador along with his assistants judges the bull (his pace, preferred direction of charging etc.) Then picadors (atop padded and blindfolded horses) try to stab the bull’s neck which leads to its first loss of blood. In the second phase, assistants known as Banderillos place pointed sticks (‘banderillas’) in the bull’s shoulders. In the third, and final, phase the matador is alone with the bull and, using a cape and stick, makes passes on the bull before finally killing him with a thrust of the sword in his forehead. A clean swipe that leads to immediate death for the bull is considered to be the pinnacle of a matador’s skill and if he is able to do it, the matador is given the ear of the bull as a prize.

Bullfighting is all about technique and the regulars seem to be knowledgeable about how a banderillos must thrust the banderilla in the bull’s shoulder or how a matador must make a ‘pass’ with his cape. All was lost on me, naturally. And thankfully.


There are a lot of Opera connections with Sevilla - three famous Operas are set in this city – Don Juan, Barber of Sevilla, and Carmen. The Tobacco factory (which is now the University of Sevilla) is where much of the action in Carmen takes place. One of Sevilla’s most famous sons is Miguel de Manara from the 17th who set up a charity hospital, ‘Hospital de la Caridad’ - apparently the character of Don Juan was partially 'inspired' by him. Yes, he had other 'hobbies' before he took to charity full-time.

Sevilla’s most famous Hotel is the Alfonso XIII. Obviously I can't afford staying there but I did go inside to have a look at the lobby and lovely interiors. This hotel was constructed for the World Fair of 1929. Two famous ‘world fairs’ were held in Sevilla – one in 1929 and the other in 1992 (which was a reversal of 29 and also happened to be the 500th anniversay of Columbus' "discovery" of America). The world expo of ’92 put Sevilla back on the world map.

Apart from exploring Sevilla, I visited the close-by cities of Cordoba, Granada (Alhambra), Cadiz, and Ronda. More on those in a later post.

¡ Barcelona ! (Jan'10)

After having braved the bone-chilling weather for the last month or so, I decided to give my tropical body a break. So I was off to Barcelona (with its boiling 10-13 degrees) to fight the January freeze.

On the bus from the airport to Barca city centre, there were a group of inebriated men (claiming to be rugby players) who were asking this mother / daughter duo all sorts of questions about the city (“Where is the best place to party?”, “Where does one get cheap liquor?”, “Where are the best bars?”). The mother spoke no English and was busy having the most horrendous coughing fits while the daughter was patiently trying to answer their increasingly inane questions. My ears pricked up when she told them to avoid Las Ramblas at all costs during the night (“You will definitely…how you say it….definitely get stolen”). That was not good news for me since that is where I was staying. But forewarned is forearmed and I moved my wallet, money, and passport to even safer locations than normal. After having done the needful, I strained to hear more of their conversation - when the spires of the Sagrada Familia came into view the girl proudly pointed it out to them.

“What’s that?”, one of them asked.

When she told them, they followed it up with “Who’s Gaudi?”

That’s when she gave up.

After checking in into my hotel I decided (with my valuables safely tucked in) to go for a wee stroll along Las Ramblas - I got a shock of my life when I saw the number of people there. Now this was 21:30 - at the same time in Edinburgh, you'll probably just see a few inebriated people moving from one bar to another but here in Barca there was no place to walk (over the next couple of evenings I figured that this was the case on EVERY street in Barcelona - people can't seem to remain in their houses after 21:00. They just HAVE to come out). No wonder Las Ramblas is a pickpocket’s haven. If I were in that noble profession, two productive evenings there would be enough to keep my kitchen fires running for the entire year. I kept on patting myself regularly (not in THAT sense!) to check if I had not been divested of my belongings and am happy to report that I did not contribute to the revenues of the pick-pocketeers during my stay there.

A bit about Las Ramblas - running down the center of the Ciutat Vella (‘old city’), it is actually a series of five shorter streets (Rambla means a water flow, and is derived from an Arabic word ‘ramla'). Each of these five sections (the rambles?) has its own specialty - La Rambla de les Flors is where you go if you need to stock up on flowers. La Rambla de Santa Monica hosts temporary art fairs. And if birds are what you want to buy, then you need to get to La Rambla dels Ocells - I found that out the first morning there when, before these bird stalls had opened, I could hear the cocks and roosters sounding their morning alarms from inside the closed stalls – it took me quite a while to figure out what was going on.

The Gothic Quarter (Barri Gòtic) has a very medieval and labyrinthine feel to it – this neighbourhood has many landmarks - the Cathedral, Government hall and the City hall, Picasso Museum, and also one of the most interesting of Barcelona’s squares - Plaça Reial, where I was pleasantly surprised to see elderly gentleman selling and buying all sorts of coins and stamps! At the Cathedral I saw this lady talking to her God – she was having a very animated discussion with her Maker and by the tone of her conversation (monologue?) she didn’t seem to be too happy with the way her life was being run. She started chiding the Man (Woman?) upstairs and then people around her started getting uncomfortable – especially this one man who was trying to have his own discussion with the aforementioned Maker. Finally disappointed with a lack of response from God, this lady finally decided to leave the Cathedral – and while doing so made a few unmentionable gestures directed towards the altar.

The rivalry between Barcelona and Madrid is like that of Delhi / Mumbai, or Lahore / Karachi, or Edinburgh / Glasgow. Madrid is the capital of Spain and seems to have a far relaxed pace compared to Barcelona’s giddy speed. What strikes the visitor about Barcelona is the buzz that the city has - especially at night after what would be considered bed-time in most parts of the world, people in Barcelona are still out on the streets (imagine Karol Bagh during prime-shopping time. That’s what Barcelona is like 24/7).

So no matter where you go, you’ll see lots and lots of people. And plenty of tourists. And none more than near Gaudi’s creations which are littered all over the city. I’m not someone who is really impressed by contemporary architects but I found Gaudi’s creations really different (giddy? bad pun!). His free forms are inspired by nature and don’t seem forced and have a totally different rhythm to them. His most well-known imprint on Barcelona is the Sagrada Família, a church that has been under construction since 1882. Gaudi spent the last 15 years of his life on it and was unable to see it completed at his death in 1926. In fact it is still under construction as architects try to maintain his spirit in the development of the Church. Understandably the spires (and the construction cranes which now seem to be an integral part of the structure) are one of the most popular attractions in Spain. The Church is expected to be completed in 2026 (at his 100th death anniversary)!!!

Park Güell is a garden complex with the unmistakable Gaudi stamp – the park was originally part of a commercially unsuccessful housing site, an idea of Guadi’s patron, Güell. The project never took off and was later converted into a park. But still there is a lot to see here – the gazelle-like buildings at the entrance, the multi-coloured mosaic dragon fountain, the house where Gaudi lived for many years, and the serpentine bench at the first level - apparently Gaudi used the imprint left by a naked workman in clay to shape this bench. Apart from these, there are a number of other Gaudi buildings in Barca - Casa Battlo, Casa Mila (or La Pedrera), and Palau Guell, each of which are unique, unusual, and strangely shaped.

I also spent quite a bit of time in the Barceloneta and the waterfront areas, which were re-developed for the 1992 Olympics. These areas have numerous restaurants, bars, and the Barceloneta and Sant Sebastia beaches can be found here (given that is was January there were not too many people in the water – despite the fact that temperatures touched 15C).

On my last day, with some excess time of kill, I decided to take my window shopping custom to El Corte Inglés (The English Dress Style), which is Spain’s largest department store chain. This particular store had 7 floors and there must have been the equivalent of Edinburgh’s population on each floor which made even window-shopping such a slow experience.

From Barcelona, I decided to go for a day-excursion to Montserrat (I chose it over Tibidabo - those who watched 'Friends' regularly would remember Joey's-How-to-get-sex-for-sure-story). Montserrat (literal translation: serrated mountain) is about 30 miles from Barcelona. A train gets you to the base of the mountain from where you have to take either a funicular or a rack-rail to get to the top. I took the rack-rail thinking it would be some sort of folding railway carriage (needless to say I was disappointed). I reached Montserrat, which has a Benedectine monastery and from where one can go for nice walks with great views of Barcelona, the Mediterranean, and the Pyrenees. Montserrat is a great place to amble around – watching all sorts of people – tourists, believers, and cyclists. Cycling from Barcelona to Montserrat is a popular excursion trip. Well, I wasn’t cycling back to Barca, so I quietly took the train to Barca and its bustling streets.

Next stop Switzerland!

Colour and Food in Madrid (Dec, 2008)

Spent a longish weekend in Madrid.

The day I landed there, disappointment overcame me as it was raining cats and dogs. Dark clouds, wet pavements, and cold windy conditions ensured that I felt I was still in Edinburgh. So armed with my umbrella (yes, I was well prepared!) I set about exploring this city - fortunately, over the next few days it didn't rain any more so I was able to savour a nice couple of sunny (though cold) days in this city despite the scary wet beginning.

The interesting thing I found out whilst preparing for my journey (which consisted of nothing extensive - just flipping through my guide book) was the origin of the word 'Madrid' – the name is derived from the Arabic word 'Mayrit' (from 'Mayra' which means 'trees' or 'giver of life') – this stemmed from the 7th century Arabic conquest of the Iberian Peninsula.

Ok, enough of history / fact of the day.

First things first - the concept of eating there is on a different plane altogether. Unlike UK, France, Germany, and Austria where I usually struggle to find a non-Indian restaurant to get some good food to eat - in Madrid one can step into any Tapas bar or Cerveceria in Madrid - and there you have abundant, inexpensive, easy, tasty, and countless varieties of Tapas and Montaditos to choose from - 'Tapas' means to cover and comes from the practice of waiters providing a wee saucer (with snacks) to cover the beer mugs. The best part about eating these snacks is that if you don't like what you ordered, you can always finish it (they are not too large anyways) and you can then order something else which you might like more (the menus sometimes have over 100 items to choose from). By the time you're on your fifth or sixth tapas or Montadito, the first two have already been fully digested – so you're hungry again. This can go on and on - in one place or you can Cerveceria-hop. And ofcourse, beer is an added incentive - the best part being that beer comes in manageable sizes (ranging from the British-binge-drinkers special to the 200 ml glasses). So it was one of those rare trips where I must have gained weight!!!

In one restaurant, I ordered a Cuija which turned out to be Pizza-esque but with that 'Pizza' they gave a very interesting looking 'hammer' for cutting it. On enquiring its name in Italian (not knowing Spanish, I would speak in Italian - that had better chances of being understood than Ingles) - the server disappeared and came back after a while with the name written on a napkin - it was, for the record, called a 'Mazo'.

The metro in Madrid is quite neat and clean and one never has to wait for more than a couple of minutes for the next train – and they're never packed choc-a-bloc. On my first day, while I was standing in the near-empty 'Gran Via' station I heard shouting. Turning, I saw a man with a flowing beard – he was obviously a tramp – the large number of polythene bags he had in his hand gave him away. It took me a second or two to realise that he was shouting at me (duh!). Despite not knowing a word of Spanish, I could make out that the words that were coming out of his mouth were mainly the 4-letter ones. My mind did a quick check of potential reasons why I might have provoked him - maybe it was the colour of my skin, maybe it was my angry-aggressive-Indian-man look. Whatever it was, he kept the flow of expletives going - at one point he made a few gestures (I refrain from giving details for obvious reasons) and then threatened (in his refreshingly visual form of communication) to throw me onto the metro track. I knew he wasn't serious (the fact I'm writing this proves my assumption correct) – I looked towards others in the station for some sort of moral support but there was none forthcoming and then, in a moment of insanity (which obviously was infectious), I started laughing. I don't know why I found it funny but I just started laughing - not the crazy man laughter but an amused giggle (perhaps borne out of nervousness). Either which way, it put the mad man (not me, the bearded guy) off and he turned his back to me. But that wasn't the end of the story – he went to a young boy with a leather jacket (who must have been enjoying my predicament) and started shouting at him. Laughter is the best medicine! The metro came after two extremely long minutes.

The first thing that struck me about Madrid was the grandeur and colour of its buildings - Art Deco buildings with ornate wrought iron balconies with shuttered windows - coloured in (sometimes bizarre) hues – some of them even have paintings – all in all making it a very colourful city. This is, naturally, accentuated by the exuberance which the Mediterranean people are blessed with – every Plaza has a buzz to it that it very infectious – flowing traffic, honking cars, policemen blowing whistles, children laughing and shouting, chattering women - silence is definitely not treasured here. And given that X'mas time is approaching, the city was decked up – fairs on every plaza and carpets of light over almost every street and avenue – the city did look extremely radiant.

Madrid has a profusion of Museums – one of the main reasons for my visit was to see the Prado. And it did not disappoint – the sheer variety of works by Goya, Velazquez, El Greco, and Rubens was awe-inspiring. Another great museum is the Reina Sofia which as a number of Dalis and Picassos - including the Guernica. Like all Cubist and Surrealist art - it is a bit difficult to understand but once someone (in my case the 'audioguide') explains some of the elements behind the painting one can really appreciate the painting (unlike Classical / Renaissance art where the the theme is the motif) - I have never been a fan of Picasso / Dali but after visiting the Reina Sofia I'm beginning to warm to their brand of art. There were a couple of other good musuems - borne out of private collections - the Thyssen-Bornemisza (with a great collection of impressionist and Italian art) and the Lazaro Galdiano - the collections there are proof that some people had way too much money to spend on art :)

A few words about timing - yes, all shops seem to be closed between 2 and 5 - everywhere you can see shops with their shutters down (and the shutters themselves have beautiful graffiti and art on them!) - but then suddenly the entire city seems to wake up around 5 and by 8 or 9 it seems that everyone is back on the streets - dinner time for them is way beyond my bed time. When I would be eating 'dinner', they would be heading for drinks. I wonder when they sleep - if at all. I never found out....

It was also a pleasure to be re-acquainted with the Europeans' (and I don´t include the British in that) tendency to fuss over babies and children. Any one who spots a baby in a pram just has to go over to the baby and make faces at him/her or even try and have a conversation. And this exchange is not one way – a baby will look at you and immediately demand some sort of communication from you. So yes, you'll see crowds in front of a pram. In fact you'll see a crowd everywhere - in the Tapas bar, in front of ATMs - but I got to see the longest queues in front of lottery stores. I think I should have invested in some lotteries myself!!!!!

Even though I'm not too much of an animal lover (i.e. lover of animals!), I do have ambiguous and unresolved views on the bullfight. Whilst I would not want to miss the spectacle that the Corrida de Toros offers, I perhaps would end up not enjoying seeing the bulls die. Fortunately, the bull fight season in Spain is from March – October so I did not have to make the really difficult decision of whether to go for a fight or not. But I did visit the Plaza de Toros - where the bull fights are held - it was an immense olympic sized stadium built in brick. It did not take much to imagine what a spectacle a bull-fight would present - maybe next time. But I did visit the museum in the arena - which had a number of mounted bulls heads and the bloodied clothes of matadors who were killed at the horns of the bulls. I'm currently reading Hemingway's 'Death in the Afternoon' which is supposed to be the definitive introduction / guide to Bullfighting.

well, a long weekend, but a short post.

PS: Noise or Music
- On Sunday evening, within an hour´s time I was treated to two very different forms of musical entertainment - Basilica San Francisco el Grande had a wonderful classical musical concert (I´m now developing a habit of hearing haunting Ave Marias in churches). Outside there was a Christmas fair that had a very peppy Jazz band that got everyone dancing to their tune. They got encouraged by the crowd´s response and decided to use the children´s carousel as a stage. Music coming from round and round- and everyone joining in (irrespective of whether they were below 80 years or over it!) was great fun to listen and jive to...
- The first time I waited to cross a road - I heard what sounded like a a child's toy gun (the ones with lights, if you remember them) - looking around expecting to see a kid with pointing such a gun at me - I could see none. It was the green signal for pedestrians.

(Dec, 2008)