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. 

• 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!

The cab driver who delighted that we were from “Amereeka, country number one!!” but kept saying “George Bush, Crazy!!” while wildly gesticulating (something) – with both hands – as we bolted down the highway at 120km/h. (This was one of our tamer and saner taxi rides). The grin on a little girl’s face – Habibah – as she rattled off every English word she knew after introducing herself while passing us on the street. The constant refrain from people everywhere: “you are welcome in Egypt”… The 3 lane highways continually being taken to six lanes with seeming absolute disregard for safety… (There were almost no lane markers anywhere but even if there had been the custom is clearly to travel forward along whatever path doesn’t currently have a car in it so that cars are jammed wheel well to wheel well in every inch of space and everybody’s honking at everybody else)… Pedestrians crossing six lanes of traffic when and where they wanted to… (The best advice our guide book gave us was to look for a local when we wanted to cross the street and follow them — because to the untrained crosser it looked as if pedestrians simply alighted from the curb completely irrespective of the hundreds of cars hurtling by. This advice may have literally saved our lives and after just a day or so there we were hurtling ourselves into traffic with the best of them)… Hundreds upon hundreds of old beat up black and white taxis that run on compressed natural gas… Seeing reverent faces, praying faces, in public, all the time… Hauntingly beautiful a capella songs blasted along the beach in the early morning hours… The sound of Camel feet padding on the sand in the endless silence on the trek up Mt. Sinai…

There were places and entire days where we never once saw an Arab woman… Our Bedouin guide who travels by camel and lives without running water or electricity kept text messaging and talking on his cell phone on the trek up Mt. Sinai. (Brian wanted to call his mom from the top and tell her there was someone who wanted to talk to her but thought the others assembled there might not find that funny). People got on and off the buses (in Major Traffic) without the buses even stopping or even slowing down much. Countless times there was suddenly a man jumping out of the (moving) bus next to us and darting in front of our taxi or someone else running though traffic trying to jump on to the moving bus… There were ubiquitous metal detectors (especially on the Sinai Peninsula) – presumably in place after bombings in the last few years – that sat idly as people walked right around them. There are prayer mats everywhere – including one we saw big enough to fit 40 men, at the car wash… There are calls to prayer broadcast throughout every part of every city all day long… And finally, we could never have understood the breathtaking size and accomplishment of the pyramids without having stood next to them. Photos here.

I don’t know whether the political fervor gripping the US recently is uniquely American but we sure saw many things on our recent trip there, that are. Snapshots of just a few of them are here. Americana not captured in photos were things like a group of folks out to dinner – in a restaurant – in full on duck hunting cammo gear; the dizzying, culture shock inducing, rows up rows of consumer goods in places like Trader Joe’s, Bed, Bath and Beyond, and Walgreens; and the gut busting gargantuan food portions EVERYWHERE. (Just to name a few!)

What I love most though about our (real) US travel photos is that they are filled not with sites (like most of our travel photos) but with people – the absolute best and most important thing to us in the United States. We are blessed with the many friends and family we have there and miss everybody already!!

We spent a few weeks in Greece at the end of October with our friends Craig, Toby and Shannon; we had a fantastic time, I’d recommend Greece to anyone. I’d also recommend traveling anywhere with Toby, Shannon and Craig so if you’re looking for travel companions see what they’re doing.

We started our trip in Athens, a bit skeptical because we’d read and heard from some friends that Athens is dirty and not nice. We didn’t have that experience at all, we found Athens to be beautiful and spent lots of time walking and exploring the city. Time of year (late September is not hot like the summer) and where we stayed probably made the difference between our experience and a bad one. By luck we found some wonderful apartments to stay in while searching for live music to see in Athens prior to our trip. Beyond the Acropolis is a website run by Carol, who not only loves live music but also has several very nice apartments in Athens that she rents, I think we ended up staying in all of them on our trip, we passed through Athens several times as we moved around.

From Athens we took a day trip to Delfi, where the infamous Oracle is from. It takes about an hour and a half by car from Athens and is worth the drive; the site itself is beautiful as is the drive through the countryside to get there. We stopped in Arachova, close to Delfi and a great place to find lunch on the way. It’s a mountain town very close to a ski resort, great scenery and food. We ate at το Αρχοντικό and it was the best meal we had in mainland Greece.

We spent 3 days on the island of Santorini in the southern Cyclades. Santorini is a volcanic island that erupted thousands of years ago, blowing the island apart and leaving the caldera of the volcano as part of the Mediterranean and one large island and several small ones, all with spectacular steep cliffs facing into the caldera. We stayed in the town of Oia in the Chelidonia villas, we loved the apartment as well as the owner Rose. While beautiful, Santorini is somewhat overrun with tourists so it takes some work to find good places to eat and some peace and quiet. Each day cruise ships arrive in the main city of Thira and get bussed to the smaller towns on the island like Oia; the result is at times Oia is peaceful and wonderful and then for an hour its narrow streets will be jammed with hundreds of tourists dropped off from busses. We struggled to find good places to eat and eventually discovered Roka which we liked so much we went there twice.

From Santorini we went back to Athens for a day. We went to the house of a friend, Aristidis, who made us a wonderful lunch of octopus and pasta and showed us around his hometown Pireaus, the port city of Athens. You never know what you might find on the streets if you wander around enough.

The next day we took a ferry to Aegina to meet our sailboat captain for a week of sailing in the Cyclades. We chartered a boat with Mystic Blue, an eco sailing outfit. We could not have been happier with the captain and hostess and the trip itself. We sailed to a new island each day, had a beach BBQ, dinner with the Captain’s parents and lunch at his mother’s house and many more adventures that made the trip wonderful.

Me: Hi, I’m calling to confirm the booking for Shannon, its booking reference ABCDEFG.
Airline: And your name is?
Me: Brian. I’m calling for my wife Shannon, she’s camping and asked me to call you.
Airline: You’re not listed on the account as being authorized to change the flight.
Me: I don’t want to make any new changes, I just want to pay for the change already arranged.
Airline: Due to privacy concerns I can’t tell you there is a change. Shannon needs to call us to make the change herself or to authorize you to make the change.
Me: Ok…. Shannon is camping right now and has no way to call anyone until after her original flight date.
Airline: I don’t see how that is possible. Doesn’t she have a cell phone or a friend with a cell phone?
Me: Well yes, but where she is there is no cell phone coverage.
Airline: I just can’t believe that. What if there was an emergency?
Me: Well she’s camping with 40,000 other people, they have medical gear, etc. But the whole point of the camping trip is that you can’t easily contact the outside world while you’re there.
Airline: <click>

So I called back.

Me: Hi, I’m calling to confirm the booking for Shannon, its booking reference ABCDEFG.
Airline: And your name is?
Me: Shannon.
Airline: You’re changing your flight to the 4th?
Me: Yes.
Airline: Thats $75, shall I charge your credit card?
Me: Yes. <insert card info>
Airline: Ok, you’re confirmed.

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.

This did not prove an easy task and although we had no less than four maps and found several road signs, it took us the better part of an hour to find the first winery. We saw cows, farmers and a lot of grass but we couldn’t find anything resembling a winery. Once we found our first stop we realized the problem: every sign for it had been pointing in the wrong direction. Every single sign.

When we finally found the winery we wandered around the grounds looking first for a wine tasting area or shop and then eventually just for someone to ask about possible wine tasting. When we wandered past a room with a bed in it we figured we had gotten way off track and tried to find our way back to the car. We finally met a gardener who seemed to understand our intent (we don’t speak any Portuguese) and we seemed to understand his – that we should follow him. We made our way to a locked door where he indicated we should wait. We waited for a very long time while various Portuguese men walked by and told us (we think) “don’t move” and “wait here”. Our worries that we had offended or done something wrong were not allayed when a man finally arrived to open the door and seemed completely at odds at our presence. He at once began to point to various (unopened) bottles of wine and explain their tastes and virtues to us. After a long recitation he asked if we were ready to buy some wine. Somewhat at odds ourselves, never having bought wine at a winery without tasting it, we bought five bottles. We asked if we had come at the wrong time or off season and should we expect other wineries to be open, etc. He said essentially “but of course, just like here you will have no problem.”

Off we went to try the whole thing again. We stopped along the way however at a fantastic little restaurant in Estremoz called Café Alentejano (at Rossio 14 if you’re ever in the neighborhood). It’s a restaurant you might miss unless you’re looking carefully. We were looking and we drove by it 3 times! Once inside you have to walk down a long hallway to sit in back and it first it might be daunting – it’s a packed locals’ joint with bench style seating and a TV blaring Portuguese news and sports scores in the corner. You eat surrounded by giant – and I do mean huge, one of them could fit five of me inside – wine caskets. It’s a grill house and the meat (we confess we’re not sure what it was so bad is our grasp of the Portuguese language) was melt in your mouth delicious. That, along with the house vinho verde (at 2.50€ for the carafe), made clear why so many locals lined the tables. We ate and drank ourselves silly for a serious steal.

Our final stop was at a wine coop in Borba. Things looked very promising as we drove into a town (rather than onto a dirt road with cows staring us down). There were grape and wine signs everywhere and we easily found the Adega Cooperative. Once inside we wandered the aisles looking at bottles of wine wondering how in the world to choose a wine. We had read that Portugal has over 100 varieties of indigenous grapes but didn’t know where to start. Finally we decided to choose a few bottles and ask if we could buy them, open them and try them right there on the spot. All of this we tried to communicate with an elaborate (yet not at all sophisticated) set of hand gestures, bad Spanish and the odd English word to a woman who only spoke Portuguese. Eventually she understood our meaning, if maybe not why we wanted to open wine and drink it right there, and she brought out some of her own already opened wine, some glasses and a corkscrew.

We had two bottles open and were working on opening the third when a police car raced into the parking lot and came to a rather dramatic halt right in front of the door. We’ll admit, we were alarmed – had they arrived because of us? Was what we were doing illegal?? One of the officers raced in the door (and to our minds) hollered something at the cashier who hurried into a back room. We waited, hands frozen around our wine glasses. After what was likely 30 seconds but seemed an eternity to us (long enough to anxiously run through the possibilities of an arrest in a foreign country) the cashier came out with three bottles of wine, the officer paid for it, and then left in nearly the same hurried and dramatic manner in which he had arrived.

We proceeded to buy a probably ridiculous amount of wine (it is quite distinct, was a more than fair price and any purchase helped support a local growers’ cooperative) and left for home.