Ma did Madrid

We ended up not taking a siesta and went to the rail station but the ticket window was closed. But the trip wasn't fruitless because mom bought a couple oranges on the way back. (Pause for laughter.)

She decided to stay in and read and I went out with Aaron. On the train, my mom and I had met an adoarble little blond girl from Austin who was in Aaron's group, but he had lost her somewhere in Sevilla. Oops. We went to a bar and had a couple free shots and I had a free glass of Sangria (yay for being a girl) and then we went to Bhudda, this three story club with hookah on the bottom, a bar in the middle, and a discoteca on the top, with a terrace full of caravans with more hookah. Basically, it was awesome. I danced with Aaron and other Texas Tech students (so long as they aren't Aggies, I don't care) till 3:30am when Aaron escorted me back. He's a good bloke.

The next morning, mom and I went to the station to buy our tickets from Madrid to Barcelona and caught an earlier train to Madrid. We blew off the hostel and got a hotel more centrally located. Mom is over the hostel situation, so from here on out it is going to be hotels. We got our bullfight tickets first thing and then went out to see what was going on for the Saints holiday. All we saw was a medieval festival, but who doesn't like Spanish wenches?

The bullfight was wild. At first, they had six mini matadors taunt the bull and he chased them around, then two men on horses came out and stuck the bull with a lance, the bull overturned a horse and I thought it was gored straight through, but later found out they had padding. Mom and I were aghast. Then the main matador comes out, "dances" with the bull and sticks a sword in the top of his back, through some organs, and then dances some more, then the bull falls and a mini matador sticks a knife in it's neck, the bull dies and is dragged off by a pack of mules. This was repeated six times and only the first really made me flinch. I think it was because the horse fell and seemed upset. Horses are my animal. I love them. But after the first bout, none of the other horses seemed to care that a bull was thrusting his horns into them, and I picked up on the nonchalance. Another thing that deadened my heart after the first bout was realizing how stupid the bulls are. They just chased anything that moved and if the object of their malice disappeared behind a wall, the bull seemed to think that they ceased to exist. I have a low tolerance for stupidity.

Three novices, and then a hero. When this matador came in, I discovered what bullfighting was about. It seemed choreographed. Whatever he wanted the bull to do, it obliged. And when it came time to plunge the sword, it went in completely and the bull fell only when the matador was ready. Gasps of "Muy bien" flitted around the arena and when it was over, people stood and cheered and waved white hankerchiefs. He walked the arena picking up flowers the ladies threw and tossing men back the hats they had thrown. I wanted him to catch my eye, tell me I was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and ask me to marry him right there. We would have had the most wonderful life of tight sequinced pants and rocky mountain oysters.

The next matador came out with an attitude and performed miserably. When the bull finally died, he sulked out of the stage to no applause. Then, the hero came back for another try and he didn't impress again. I was kind of glad that the marriage fell through.

Mom and I stopped in a cafe for coffee, bailey's, and ameretto to wait out the crowd and then we went out looking for a party. First we found McDonalds. I had been fighting a hankering since Paris and finally gave in. Delicious. Then we found a cool bar with beds and Pedro and Leonardo from Brazil and Philippe from London. Pedro left early, but Leo and Phil stayed up and talked with us until about 3am. We tried for a jazz club, but had just missed the music and the only good discoteca was across town, so mom and I opted for bed instead. I really hope I run across Leo again one day because we both have that travellers mentality and we talked of politics, religion, and tattoos. Brazil is definitely on my list of places to visit.

This morning mom and I left some unnecesarily heavy clothing at the hotel, then headed for the train station. Found out that our night train to Milano only goes every other day, so we will be an extra day in Barcelona at the expense of one in Venice, but ces't la vie. After much walking and poor directions, we found our fancy hotel in Barcelona and set about planning our stay here. Looks like massages and pedicures tomorrow, after a month and a half of backpacking, mom is trying to turn me back into a woman.

Even though it is Saturday in Barcelona, I think we are going to bed early. Though there is a bar made completely out of ice that is whispering my name.