That’s no bull

Yesterday’s afternoon temperatures got up to a toasty 109 degrees but we didn’t let that stop us from our appointed rounds which included a 4pm tour of the bull fighting ring, which is conveniently located just across the street about a block away.

Incidentally, we now understand the origins of the Spanish “siesta”. The streets were empty and there was hardly any sound. It was quite peaceful actually. The fact is that it was just too hot for anyone to be out and about during that time, as the locals know all too well. But it’s a dry, desert-like heat, so coming from Houston, it really wasn’t all that unbearable. But don’t tell that to my iPhone which kept complaining “iPhone is too hot and needs too cool down” (seriously).

I’ve had never really understood the bull fighting culture before, but their museum does a nice job of explaining the origins and history (it began as a way of training mounted soldiers for battle before transitioning into it’s modern format).

There’s certainly a great amount of tradition and civic pride in bull fighting but I suppose it’s also understandable that it might not be so well appreciated by people from outside the local communities. You could say the same thing about Flamenco or the local cuisine - you might not appreciate it as the locals do, but it’s an integral part of what it means to be an Andalusian.

I was happy to learn that the tour included an opportunity for us to walk out into the open arena (minus a charging bull). The resemblance to gladiator battles in Roman coliseums is inescapable. And the feeling of standing alone on that amber colored dirt, in the screaming hot afternoon sun, imagining myself being surrounded by a crowd of 12,000 fanatical spectators is one that I won’t soon forget.