Jun 28
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Jun 24
Numbers are marked on old cement benches that circle and rise concentric from a lustrous red wooden wall making an amphitheatre around the giant circle of fine-raked yellow sand. On the ground, following the wooden wall, has been painted two massive red rings. High over the empty sand and all of us in the Plaza del Toro is a clear Spanish sky. Tourists wear shorts and carry blue vinyl seat cushions. Locals are in Sunday dress and carry glossy colored programs. People climb over one another, arms stretched to hands trading Euros for Cervezas, Ice Crème and Peanuts. The crowds soft rumble grows and above it sound whistles and hollers from seated friends to wandering ones.
Dressed in tights and jewel studded armor of bright blues, pinks and yellows, the players parade into the ring. They are a star matador and an army of others who strut and wave with a noble dignity. From their march, they take to positions beyond the freshly painted red wall. The crowds common voice had hushed for the display, but returns now. As the full bullring chats, drinks, eats and waits an anxious excitement grows inside all of us.
Jun 13
For those of you who have been following my travels closely, I suppose its fair to keep you abreast of my relevant moods and ideas. As you may have noticed from recent posts (or lack thereof), Im getting a bit of travel fatigue. Considering Ive been moving around for about five months now, maybe it is to be expected. Sure, there were times Ive spent a couple of weeks on the same bed (Bangkok, McLeod Ganj and Paris), but I think being in one place for awhile without having had plans to stay there, still feels transient.
Jun 12
We were circling around the cathedral on our search for a bar with a free Flamenco (Spanish dance) show. I was walking slow and falling behind, trying to decide if I wanted to leave them and head back to watch the street magicians we had stopped for only a minute to see.
This cathedral was a giant, the biggest in Spain. It stood wide and sort of haphazard, full of steeples that looked bumpy until close inspection revealed them to be laced with intricate sculpture. All stone churches look old, but this one looked older. The stones that made it appeared as if they were cut crudely and stacked quickly, like a medieval castle. The sun was hidden from me, but still lit the tall cathedral.
Read the rest of this entry »Jun 10
While in Barcelona, I also made friends with a Kiwi (New Zealander) named Cameron who was staying at my hostel and working as a deckhand on a ship in port nearby. I was impressed and intrigued with his job and the way he was travelling and likewise was he with my magic and pictures.
Jun 09
Hello! Do you speak English?
Yes. Only! I responded.
Its a phrase Ive taken a liking too. I must look very European, because I get to use it quite often. Other English speaking travelers often speak to me very slowly at first. A few times Ive made up my own language on the spot and watched them try to figure out where I was from. Spanish people will carry on complete conversations with me until I repeatedly tell them I dont speak Spanish. I must mumble, because they dont seem to notice Im responding in English. Maybe I just look Spanish or maybe its the fact that I do a very good Hola! and the only other phrase I know is Yo Hablo Espanol! (I speak Spanish!) I do like the Spanish language. Im trying to figure out which language Im going to take a serious stab at learning. Its a toss between that and French right now.
