The following is an account of a bullfight and may not be appropriate for all audiences.

So I found myself at a bullfight the other day.  I say “found myself” as if 2 ½ years of hard thinking and contemplation about whether to go hadn’t gone into the decision to be there.  Normally (that is, when I still lived in the United States) it wouldn’t even be an open question, but now, living in Spain, it was no longer that obvious or simple to me.  Bullfighting, more than any other cultural phenomenon, caused an irreconcilable conflict between my values of the way I want to live on this planet in harmony with all creatures and the way I want to live as a foreigner or outsider in a new culture.  Or, more basically: I am for – hugely, passionately, fervently – the ethical and humane treatment of animals and I value, above almost all else, keeping an open mind about new cultures and being willing to critically think about my own reactions/judgments when I think something is distasteful, rude, bad, or even “wrong” in a new culture.   And therein lay the dilemma.

It was with these unresolved conflicts still swirling in my mind that I approached the bullring and I didn’t know until the moment I stepped through the arches whether I would finally attend a bullfight.

I was so immediately overwhelmed by the scene inside that all thoughts of the bulls and what lay ahead temporarily vanished.  The stands – rows upon rows of cement steps – were packed to, or well over, capacity.  The din of the excited crowd was overpowering and a bit mesmerizing.  People were laughing and calling out as every single spectator crawled across nearly 50 other spectators to get to their (tiny) square patch of cement.  Vendors called out, hawking drinks, seat cushions, sun hats and candy.  The men wore suits, ties and hats and the women were similarly decked out in their Sunday best.  The laughing, excitement and general camaraderie was contagious and we found ourselves immediately befriended and enchanted by 2 elderly gentlemen sipping their way to happy land in front of us.  There was no hint (to my untrained eyes) of the gladiator style spectacle that lay ahead.

After some pageantry in which all the key players (except the bulls) paraded around (and then exited) the ring, the first bull charged in.  If you don’t know how a bull “fight” works…  The bull enters the ring with one spear/stick already stabbed between its shoulder blades.  The end of the stick is decorated with streamers or ribbons that if they aren’t already will eventually become soaked in blood.  Once the bull is in the ring a highly scripted performance begins.  The bull is taunted and harassed by several peones or capeadores – men in costumes swinging bright yellow and magenta capes.  This is supposedly so that the Matador can watch how the bull moves in preparation for his own show down.  The capeadores run around the ring yelling at the bull and trying to get him to charge at their capes.  If he does, they make a bee-line for any of a number of wooden shelters placed around the edges of the ring. 

After several minutes of this, a picador enters on horseback.  The horse is completely blindfolded and covered with a mattress-like armor.  The Picador carries a long pole with a sharp end and his job is to stab the bull in the neck to help weaken him for his eventual conflict with the Matador.  The bull is taunted until he (they are never shes) charges at the Picador.  The Picador is considered skilled if he adroitly stabs and destroys muscle tissue in the bull’s neck without severing the spine, thereby killing the bull too soon.  The bull is stabbed repeatedly so that it becomes harder and harder for him to raise his head and gore his attackers.  At this stage the bull fights mightily and tries in vain to gore the horse; to raise it up on his horns.  Historically more horses were killed during bull fights than bulls due to this, now however, they stand covered in their mattress-like protection, completely still as the Picador stabs, pokes and taunts the bull. 

Eventually the Banderilleros enter the ring (three of them in total) and the torture can begin in earnest.  Each has a set of special short pointed and barbed sticks festooned with even more elaborate decorations.  The Banderillero’s job is to further weaken the bull.  There is more taunting and harassing of the bull until the Banderillero simultaneously drives both spears into the neck and shoulders as near as possible to the bull’s other wounds.  At least three Banderilleros do this until the bull is stumbling around the ring with several spears sticking out of his back and blood running down his sides. 

If it’s not obvious, by this point in the “fight” I was truly starting to panic – my reaction was visceral.   The bull was running after almost anything that caught his attention.  His stomach heaved violently – whether due to belabored breathing or due to some of the internal processes of dying, I do not know.  He was pissing all over himself and stumbling, futilely trying to raise his head in defense against his attackers. 

At this point, enter the Matador.  (Matador means Killer in Spanish).  The entire crowd fell eerily silent.  You could hear the Matador’s calls of “¡Toro!” as he tried to get the bull to charge him, although to be clear there was no “charge” left in the poor bull.  The crowd at various times called responses in unison like Catholics in church on Sunday but I do not know what they were saying or what prompted their unified shouts.  The Matador engaged in an elaborate “dance” (called a faena) that all the Spaniards seemed to anticipate and understand.  He held a long spear and a red cape and drew the bull towards him and around the ring in moves called veronicas.  Popular myth is that the cape is red to antagonize the bull but bulls are color blind.  The cape is red to hide the bull’s blood.  At this point the bull is in the throes of death and although there does seem to be almost fluid movement between the bull and the Matador it is sickening to see.  If the bull tries to walk away the taunting and harassing begins anew until he re-engages with the Matador. 

After what seems like an eternity it is clear the bull will die soon.   At the bull fight we attended, moments before the Matador delivered the fatal blow, the bull, in one last effort to defend himself and protect his life, gored the Matador.  He rammed his horns up and under the gold and beaded jacket.  The Matador was lifted off the ground like a marshmallow on a campfire stick – although the  bull’s horns and the damage they were doing were concealed under the elaborate costume.  Men came running from all directions to his (the Matador’s) rescue as the crowd murmured sounds of distress.  My reaction was “GOOD – he (the Matador) goddamn deserves it – kill him”.  And before I even had time to marvel at and process my own reaction, the bull finally and fatally crashed to his knees and then fell over in one final, heavy slump.

Seemingly simultaneously – it was hard to tell amidst the death and violence – the Matador stood and was helped limping out of the ring.  The crowd went wild.  They burst into thunderous applause as I burst into tears.  I choked out several loud sobs as I looked around me, stunned.  I couldn’t believe or fathom the crowd’s response.  I wanted to yell “my GOD are you all barBARians?!”

I looked at the clock.  It had been 12 minutes from start to finish.

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Six bulls are killed in every Spanish Bullfight like the one we attended in Sevilla, España.  In Sevilla alone, during this season, there will be 29 bullfights.  There are 70 other Bullrings in Andalucía.  Bullfighting is a pastime in several countries worldwide. 

It’s spring in our neighborhood in Granada, the Albayzin, and one of the hallmarks of this season is frequent power surges that blow our fuses. Due to this we have several monstrous surge protectors throughout our highly computerized house. The best of them however only provides enough power to allow for some time to try and save data and properly shut down the computers in the case of a true power outage. Yesterday morning we had just that, a true power outage. As Brian rushed around trying to shut down the computers securely I began to worry about the food in the fridge, realized we’d not likely get a hot shower, and that the entire day might be blown in terms of getting anything done.

I went upstairs marveling at how dependent we are for every little thing on the electricity in our house and noticed right away how deafeningly and beautifully silent it was without any of our computers, clocks, hot water heaters, etc. running. As I thought about what we’d do for the day, I got that old snow day feeling. We could do whatever we wanted; it was a freebie day where we should have been working and responsible but during which we absolutely could not without electricity.

After Brian took a short but intensely painful (judging by the sounds coming from the bathroom) shower, we decided to head downtown. Along the way we passed many of the day laborers who work construction in our neighborhood who clearly were waiting out the power outage as well and enjoying sitting on the wall along the river in the sun. Bar/Café owners stood idly in doorways waiting for the lights to come back on and watching the world go by. An already relaxed neighborhood took on that not-your-average-workday feel and everyone was smiling.

In town we had a beer and tapa before noon, bought lots of fruits and vegetables to have a “cook out” on our grill (in case of a truly all day power outage) and shopped for a long anticipated new camera. In short, I’m pretty much already looking forward to the next “snow day” in the Albayzin.

• Respect the Spanish schedule. Afternoon tapas are served generally from 2-4 and at night tapas are generally served from 9-12. (Anything served outside these times is most likely touristy schlock.)
• Get out of the touristy areas. Walk up side streets and explore. Look for bars with lots of people in them and choose those.
• Free tapas are only served (during the above mentioned hours) and when you order beer, wine or something like soda (Fanta, Nestea, Coca Cola). Tapas are not served with cocktails or coffee.
• Be adventurous and keep an open mind. If you get off the beaten track you will be served all kinds of tapas that look nothing like manchego cheese, jamon or olives – the absolute staples of tourist tapas. We have tried all kinds of new things and combinations of foods we’ve never seen and we love it. What’s the worst that can happen??
• Don’t be intimidated. Learn how to order your drink, and that’s all you’ll really need. For example, if you like a small beer and a tapa, order a caña – “cahn-yah”. A larger beer – tuvo (too-boh). For a glass of red wine order vino tinto (bee-noh teen-toh), for a glass of white – vino blanco (bee-noh blahn-coh), or, order anything like Fanta, Coca Cola, Agua con gas, etc. and the rest will happen naturally.
• Tapas are automatically served when you order your drink and will follow a first, second, third, (etc.) pattern. So if you order one drink watch for the server to bring you (or hand over the bar) a plate of first tapas or “primeras”. Order another drink and soon you’ll be served a different tapa or the “Segunda” and this will last for as many drinks as you order although, most likely, you’ll be full or have hopped on to the next bar after two or three drinks and tapas. (There are just so many tapa bars and so little time!)

Enjoy!!

Getting Here (Granada or Andalucía)

When flying to Andalucía from the US check flights/prices into Malaga, Madrid and Granada. Traveling from the West Coast of the US we generally make a stop somewhere on the East (US) Coast and fly directly into Madrid and then fly on to Granada, or, from the East (US) Coast into Malaga and drive or take the bus to Granada. Check flights also through Paris (Charles De Gaulle) if you’re flying from the West (US) Coast. Generally we avoid Heathrow like the Plague because of endless problems with lost luggage and stressful/almost unattainable connection times in that unending airport. For international flights consider arriving in one destination and leaving from another. We do this almost every time we travel because it’s about the same price as arriving and leaving from the same city and gives you more options for cities you might want to visit.

Traveling in Spain

Once you have arrived in Spain you will be able to easily travel around by train and autobus. We recommend never ever renting a car (unless you like navigating one-way narrow cobblestone streets with maps you cannot read and roads which you cannot enter with all the other drivers honking at you…) Renting cars in Spain to drive from one place to another is far more expensive than any other form of travel. And, on the highways there is little to really enjoy between towns that you couldn’t see from a train or bus window.

Always check domestic flights for traveling within Spain (also if you want to fly to/from another EU country) because they are quite often cheaper than the train. Try Ryanair, Iberia, Spanair and Vueling.

Side Trips from Granada

There many who would say you cannot come all the way to Granada and miss either Sevilla or Cordoba because these three are the trifecta of Andalucían culture and history, the longest lasting representation of the history of the Moors and the Catholics (and arguably Visigoths) in this part of the World. It’s hard to disagree with this. If you are coming to Granada, consider traveling also to Sevilla and seeing the Cathedral, the Real Alcazar and Barrio Triana (just a few of our favorites)…. We also like Cordoba – (especially this hostal, the hammam (Arab Baths), and of course the Mezquita). If you are Granada for a bit longer, depending on the time of year, we like to travel either up to the Sierra Nevada (in the Winter) and to the Virgen de las Nieves or to Salobreña or another Mediterranean destination in the Spring and Summer.

Other Travel to Granada Tips

• Notify your credit card company that you will be traveling abroad – we’ve had ours shut off too many times to count.
• Traveler’s checks can be more trouble than they are worth. If you have a major bank card in the US you should be able to withdraw cash in Spain. Travel with small bills – Euros. In Granada it’s difficult to pay with anything other than cash and you’d have to spend like Midas on food and drink to ever climb far above 40€ for two people in one shot. (Although for a 40€ tab you’d most likely be able to use a credit card.)
• Take advantage of the free included tapas with drinks in Granada and know how they work. You’ll get a free tapa with every drink order of soda/pop, beer and wine. (As opposed to coffee drinks or cocktails which are not served with tapas). Timing is ever important – tapas are served only from about 2ish- 4ish in the afternoon and 9ish to 12ish at night.
• Always be mindful of the Spanish schedule and go out to breakfast, lunch or dinner at the same time as the rest of the city. Breakfast is coffee and pastry or toast – anytime up to 12pm. Lunch usually starts about 2:30pm – 3pm – there is only one seating so do not expect to get there either early or late and be able to eat lunch. Dinner is usually about 10pm and often only one seating however some restaurants have an 8:30pm and a 10:30pm seating. The 8:30pm can often be like a ghost town but if you are going to a show, it’s a good way to still get some dinner because afterwards no restaurants will be serving dinner. (If you are able to find food outside of the usual Spanish schedule it will most likely be touristy schlock so try to get on the Spanish schedule if you can.) Finally, it’s best to allow for up to 2 hours for eating either lunch or dinner. And of course, we always recommend drinking a bottle of wine with your meal…
• Although Granada is casual among Spanish cities, travelers here might feel most comfortable with button down shirts in restaurants and never, if we’re being honest, shorts. Bring layers whenever you travel to Granada and if you’re friends of ours, heed any up to date weather reports because we’ve had guests mightily surprised by both the cold and the heat. Generally it’s mild here, but do ask, just in case!
• Ask us for our favorite tapa bar recommendations and we’ll send you the link to our map. We protect these somewhat as they are far more special than many of the ones listed in any of the English language travel books and we simply don’t want them to get overrun!

Last week was a perfect combination of good snow and a sunny clear day, so I headed to the mountains with my friend Ryan, a solid telemark skier who loves to find untracked snow as much as I do. We had a fantastic weekday day with no crowds.

I’ve skied this mountain for the last 2 years and hadn’t ever been impressed – there hasn’t been much snow the last few years and going down groomers of man-made snow is not my idea of skiing; the last 2 years I only went skiing 4 times. For those of you that know me, I used to ski 35-40 days a year when I lived in Seattle, so I had lots of unexpected free time the last few winters. With real snow, the mountain is a completely different place, it has a good mix of steeps and off-piste slopes as well as a huge terrain to choose from. Definitely enough to keep you interested and coming back to discover new areas. This year I’ll be spending a lot more time on the mountain if the snow holds up!

Ryan and I found a great slope with hardly any tracks that we went down once to scope out; on our return trip there was a minor mishap. I jumped in and was having a great run through fresh snow; at the end of the run I hit some crusty snow and the nose of my board dove in and stuck, sending me for a nice fall. I wasn’t hurt (aside from my pride), but rolled over to find a little problem…

My trusty Flow binding split in half at the baseplate. I loved these bindings, unfortunately they don’t make them any more. Getting down the mountain was a bit of a challenge with just one working binding but it all worked out in the end. Anyone got a recommendation for a replacement binding?

I’m normal sized by American standards – 6′ tall, 180-ish pounds, but by Spanish standards I’m pretty large; for the 70′s a regular giant. Sometimes this is really handy – for example I never get harassed in crowds and I can get some great sale bargains during rebajas, but when shopping for clothes it is not handy. Fortunately I found some clothes that fit, but there were not lots of choices so my style will be questionable at best in SF. As if to remind me (painfully) of this, some of the older metro lines in Madrid have handholds that go across the ceiling at roughly 5′ 10″, making it impossible for me to walk inside the train cars without ducking every 2 steps and occasionally hitting my head when the train stops fast. Ouch!

In July I received an email, sent to all employees in the Madrid office, stating that from July 15 to September 15 the office would be open from 9am to 3pm. Normally it is open 7am to 6pm. Only 6 hours in the workday? Also, its important realize there is a 30 minute coffee/breakfast break at 10am, but I assume one doesn’t each lunch at 2pm on the shorter day plan. I want to get on that plan, summer hours should apply to my house too, right? Well, I suppose I could have pushed my boss in Seattle for this, but I have since found out I would have been wrong had I done so.

A friend of mine here in Granada is also a software engineer; I asked him how he enjoyed this extra free time in the summer. He doesn’t, because he doesn’t get summer hours. It turns out that this summer hours plan is determined by province (think state in the US) and by your profession. In Madrid apparently all software engineers get summer hours; in Granada they do not. I’m not quite sure why my chosen profession is excluded from this free time, I suspect it has something to do with there not being many of us in Granada, its not really a big software town. Perhaps all 20 of us should hold a demonstration at the town hall next year.

A popular and refreshing beer drink is the Clara, a mix of half beer and half soda water (often with a hint of lemon or lime flavor), its nice on a hot day. While we were at the bar a group of people came in and all ordered a beer. And then one of the women tried to amend her order with the bartender – a clara please. What? A clara. Not with my beer was the answer.

When I was growing up in the US this gesture was offensive and I’m pretty sure it still is; it is to me today. However, I live in Spain now and if living abroad has taught me anything (besides how to be humbled) it is that you can’t judge one culture by the norms of a different culture.

I have lost count of the number of times I have seen Spanish people make this slant-eyed gesture. I’ve seen friends (who I don’t consider racist) do it, I’ve seen Japanese people do it and I’ve seen the usual drunken idiots do it. The news articles reminded me that we have a photo from a night out with some friends last year that Shannon and I both thought was horribly offensive.

We don’t know the 2 people in the center (in pink and blue), but the man on the left, the tall guy in back and the woman are our friends; the men are Japanese and living in Granada, the woman is Greek and was visiting for a few months. They didn’t seem bothered by the gesture.

I suspect the basketball team didn’t do this photo out of malice but that doesn’t make it any less offensive to me; however, I’m not Spanish so its not my place to judge.