Con los Madrileños

Whew, I just went a couple months without realizing I had a blog. Yes there is more. I am continuing my series of photos from my most recent faraway excursion in Spain. This was way back in May, so I wouldn't mind having another one already.

My first stop was Madrid, convenient for the fact that that is where my flight landed. Not convenient because of the airport, which is officially my least favorite of all time. I have never had to hike so far as I did in that monstrosity. I really like Madrid, however. For someone traveling alone, it is fun to walk around and explore on your own, pick up tapas along the way. If you want to find friends, the hostels are very active, planning tours, group activities, and bar crawls every day.

Old World Style - seen along my introductory tour

The second day of my stay in Madrid was May 2 - The Day of Madrid. As I gathered from speaking to locals, it celebrates the day Madrid gained independence... from Spain? or France? Something like that. My mission that morning was to pick up a camera battery charger (which I forgot to pack) from FNAC, and on my way there found this big celebration. No big deal, business as usual...

A few spectators, who have been waiting for a couple hours for something to happen

After a while of waiting, triumphant music played and several men in uniform marched up. These are bomberos.

My main memory of this day is watching this guy in green at his post all morning

The mayor of Madrid inspects the troops

My camera was off when I first saw them overhead

Some dudes marching

After spending the early afternoon in Puerta del Sol and finding an (overpriced) battery charger, I wandered the eastern part of the old city. My favorite was the Reina Sofia, though Retiro Park was nice as well. Would have been nicer with a cold ice cream.

Looking out from the Reina Sofia. Guess who designed this statue.

Hiked up this wide and long esplanade to Retiro Park.

Outside Reina Sofia. People looking European.

The first night in Madrid, I went on a pub crawl. By pub, they really meant club (which makes sense in retrospect). It ended up being about 20 guys and 2 girls. The experience felt lacking after a bit, so I left with one girl who wanted to leave early, and we went to a cafebar where she had befriended the waitstaff before. As I knew more Spanish than her, I helped translate for them and they fell in love with me as well. I came back the next night, unfortunately alone this time. They teased me to bring someone next time, but they were still supercool and insisted I take a free coffee. Silly me, I heard wrong, they said coffee liqueur.

Farewell Madrid, time to check out some Spanish rocks tomorrow

Un Día a la Plaza de Toros

On May 1, with a small duffel bag and an even smaller backpack, I set off to Spain in business class, only to spend my first nights on a top bunk in an 8-person dorm at the Way Hostel Madrid. I had done my research, and already knew what I would be doing that first night - seeing a bullfight. It was never a life goal really, but my excitement grew at the prospect of seeing such a unique spectacle. Once a week, every Sunday at the Ventas Plaza de Toros, was it, so I had just this one chance.

After a day of touring the city, I found a couple girls from the hostel to join me for the bloody event. As I was the group's lone Spanish-speaker (scoff), I articulately purchased the cheapest seats, and we headed through the inviting entrance.

Our frugality took us high.. and higher, onto the second to last row, where we struggled to share space with the feet of those on the last row. The roof seemed within the reach. And the ring... wow. A beautiful structure all around. It began with a triumphant tone from the start. A parade of the participants, the toreros, and upbeat music played from the band.

The family in front of us was local, and in half English/half Spanish, the father explained to us what we were seeing. "Tercios! Este es el primer tercio - capote!" Capote refers to the magenta cape of the toreros. They tease the bull around the ring. They also bring out a picador, a guy on top of a horse. When the bull attacks the horse - "pica! pica!" The blood begins to flow.

The second act is that of the banderilleros. I didn't get a good picture of them, so you should go watch a bullfight yourself the next time you travel to see what it's all about. The third and final act, el tercio de muerte, pits the matador and his "muleta," the red cape, against the weakened and injured bull. This tercio above all displays the artistic grace of the torero, not to mention courage and a healthy dose of showboating.

The bull obviously gave this matador a little trouble before it was all over.

For the uninitiated, this spectacle is quite shocking. Seemingly harmless at first, seeing a bull killed, dragged away to upbeat fanfare, and the next victim brought in, makes you feel like you're a peasant in the stands at a Roman ampitheatre. One of my friends had to leave halfway through the first bull's show. Not for the faint of heart.