Espana!

I just finished two weeks of traveling through Spain and have some time now to reflect on it all. We started off in Barcelona, where we appreciated Gaudi's architecture and his masterpiece, the Sagrada Familia, while also enjoying the nightlife with some fellow Canadians we met along the way. After that it was off to Madrid to check out fabulous parks and plazas. The city as a whole felt like a mix of Paris and New York and people were always bustling about. Next stop was Malaga for some fun in the sun and beach time. Finally, last but not least was (my favourite) Sevilla.

A few years ago I had the opportunity to visit this city while my brother was studying there on his exchange journey. At the time I don't think I fully appreciated the culture and the courage he had to live abroad on such a foreign climate. This time around however, I was able to spend some time and immerse myself in the tapas, the cathedral, the language and (also my favourite) the siestas.

Of all the things I have done while abroad probably the most otherworldly and foreign experience I have had was attending a bullfight while in Sevilla. The fight consists of 3 matadors each fighting 2 bulls in separate matches. Each match is divided into 3 sections and are judged by the crowd and officials to determine the best matador of the night. When I first approached the stadium I had the unusually familiar feeling that I was going to watch a C's baseball game back home. There were old die hard fans with seat cushions and bottles of water with them, outside the gates there were people selling peanuts and souvenirs and inside everyone was ushered into their proper seat by stadium attendants. But once the fights began an eerie silence fell over the crowd in anticipation of the first appearance of the bull. Despite the obvious controversies surrounding bullfights and the nature in which they are killed, the cultural aspects of the event, I believe, overwhelmed the negative.

Everything from the matadors flashy outfits and confident stride, to the crowds enthusiasm and emotional response to his achievements or mistakes, to the brass instruments that trumpeted the defeat of the bull exuded a Spanish flare. There were no big frills or gimmicks, it was simply just a man and an animal standing head to head in a ring. I'm not sure if there are words to describe the overall essence of the event, but to steal one from Spaniards themselves, ole!