hola seville! friday

I packed my stuff up and checked out of the hotel. I flagged down a taxi who also frowned at my 20-Euro bill upon arrival at the train station. He had to deal. I got a sandwich to go and went out to the platform. The train was nearly 20 minutes late. I had trouble with my suitcase. I need to mail more stuff home because I can’t lift it and because my later flights won’t let me have stuff—20 Euros per extra kilo. I’m 100% sure it’ll be cheaper to ship! I slept for most of the ride. Near the end, I noticed the scenery. There were hills upon hills all lined with orchard trees. The trees continued down the hills and across a flat valley. On the other side of the valley was a raggedy mountain. It was SUPER scenic—very Spain.





After that, I stayed awake and read my guidebook. I decided I’d play SUPER stereotypical Spain today: see the bull fighting ring and a flamenco show.
Upon arrival, I was surprised by the size of the train station. It was like the size of Seoul Yeok, more than Boryeong, unlike the majority of my stations here so far. Barcelona was different—lined up inside underground instead of outside or in a giant warehouse.
I bought my ticket to get to Cordoba and then got a taxi to take me to my hostel. The driver spoke to me in French. Odd. It was rush-hour. I tried to explain I only had 11 or a 50 because I didn’t want the driver to be upset. He thought I was saying he better hurry because my money was wasting away. No way, sir! It’s pouring down rain and my suitcase is heavy. I’ve seen the map! I’m not trying to tote my things cross-town!
I arrived and put my stuff in my room, which is on the ground floor RIGHT next to the reception desk. My room is clearly the handicapped option and reeks of cigarettes. It was cold and had no lock. I couldn’t wait to get out of it!
I decided to try to go to the bullring right away. I took my map and headed out the door.
It took me nearly an hour and it’s close on the map. I went through Plaza Nueva and Plaza Francisco and by El Corte Ingles and by the cathedral and by some towers and by a tram and by Starbucks (x2!), all in a misty sort of rain that umbrellas barely protect against, but I could not find the stadium!















It’s actually called Plaza de Torres, logically enough. It’s by the river and I did eventually locate it after referring back to my map regularly. Street names in Spain are always on the side of the building above the street. They can be hard to find and here, I think they’re the worst. They’ve got nice letter tiles, but they hide them. Also, streets here do more bends than most. Just because it starts pointing the way you want to go doesn’t mean it will take you there.
The bullring is a big rounded building. It’s white with yellow and red trim. I thnk the front gate looks like a bulls’ face.









I went in a door and up to a desk and just looked at a man. I think people ought to know that if I’m a tourist in a tourist destination that I want a ticket, but they never do. I had to go to another desk. He was the giftshop man, to his credit. There was a bull’s head on the wall.
The next tour was in 20 minutes. I wandered the bit of hall we were allowed in and waited. Then they opened a massive door and we were welcomed. They did the tour first in Spanish then in English.






I learned we were at the Prince’s gate. If a matador successfully kills a bull in style, he can get 3 trophies—2 ears and a tail. If he does this, the crowd carries him out this gate on their shoulders.
The next stop on the tour was the museum, which was organized chronologically. Originally, bull fighting was done on horseback. One king tried to instate horsemanship games instead, but someone else brought back the bulls. There are 3 stages to fighting a bull. 1- stab him to calm him down. 2- put a sort of garland around his neck to rile him up. 3- kill. The best method is through a place on his back/neck. Part one is on horseback. Lots of horses died in the olden days but now they get armor. Part 2 and 3 are done in teams. You get helpers! Also, you do it in sets of 3—each person kills 2 bulls. The oldest fighter goes last. Each stage gets its own cape. It takes about 25 minutes to go through all 3 stages.







Occasionally, a bull wins. Even more rarely, someone dies. Only one person has died in this ring. It’s the oldest ring that’s still in use in the whole world. Its season is April-October. It starts on EASTER. The seats are by sold by whether or not they’re in the sun—at the top in the sun is about 20 Euros and at the bottom, in the shade, 150. In the final room of the museum, there are lots of bull heads and one of a cow. She bore lots of bulls that won fights. Also, one of the bulls is missing an ear—a trophy. When the bulls have been killed, 3 burros drag them away to the butcher. To choose a bull, the ring owner, the team manager, and the guy who raises the bull all meet to choose. Bulls are 4-6 when they go to the ring. Matadors practice on 2-4 year olds. The youngest bullfighter was only 14. He died at 25 in the ring.
Then we saw the chapel where the matadors go just before the match. They meet their teams in there. The bulls arrive 2 days in advance and horses come 1 day early.








Then we saw paintings of bull fights. There are LOADS they have a special museum of them in the room that used to be the hospital.






Then finally, we saw the ring. There’s a special seating area called the prince’s something… It’s where the royal family sits when they come. Next to them is the president. He has to approve for a fighter to get a trophy. If the crowd wants them to, they all wave white hankies and then the president declares it ok or not.









After that, I went in search of my flamenco venue. I wanted to get tickets for tonight or tomorrow, worst case. I chose a show that was cheap, but listed in my guidebook and on the sheet that I picked up at the train station. I went in a tourist officina to ask where my place was and they wanted just hand me another list. I have a map and a list and I need help finding the tiny alleyway it’s on! The woman impatiently made a little circle and told me to ask someone when I got close.





I just followed the map up and down and over and across. It was a bear, but I made it. There was a cute ticket man at the door promoting the show. He smiled a lot and giggled a bit. I wanted to go to the 9pm show but it was sold out both nights. He told me it was 10:30 or bust. I wasn’t sure about walking around Barrio Santa Cruz (the old Jewish Quarter) at night, but I went for it. I didn’t mean to go through the quarter—I was planning on seeing it tomorrow! I think I’m going to go to the Cathedral and then church in the Barrio because it has the Last Super painting in it. I will also go to Starbucks because my hotel has no internet and maybe the post office if I make it before 1 with my stuff.
I had dinner in a place with paella in the name. The host chatted to me out the door- hola! Que tal? I don’t speak Spanish, but I’m tired and cold and wet and cranky. I chose paella Valenciana and a coke lite. The man at the table next to me asked if I was ok. He’d noticed I was alone. Yes, fine, just end of the day! It’s hard to be alone—people judge you lots. I need to remember to bring a book so I can LOOK busy. I got bread and olives and they charged me for the bread.
I walked back to my hotel in a roundabout way back by the bullring, thinking I was desperate to be there. When I arrived, I was desperate to be anywhere else! I changed my outfit and played on the computer and went back out to the flamenco show.
I’d seen a sign that had a video camera and a digital camera with a line through it so I left my camera at home. Turns out you just can’t do video. Photos were only allowed at the end. Oops.
The theater was Arabic themed. It had vines hanging down a wall and lots of lanterns and arches and tiling. The ceiling was draped fabric. It was open to the cold!
The show started with guitarists and a singer. The whole song, he had his eyes closed. I wondered if he was blind, but found out he wasn’t later on. Then a male dancer came. I didn’t realize how much of flamenco is stomping or tap dancing. I was very intrigued. He did lots of crazy-fast moves and then suddenly he’d spin. The singer was clapping in like 6 different ways to make beats to compliment the sound of the dance. I was wondering when I got to clap along, but they never gave me the chance, although some people tried. My sense of rhythm isn’t that good and I couldn’t predict the changes. There was also a lady dancer later in the show. She was even quicker. Her costume could have been better though. It was plain black with lame parallel ruffles around the bottom. I’ve seen more elaborate ones in the tourist shops! The music was very nice—very Spanish. I was just thinking, isn’t it supposed to be a pairs’ dance? when they turned the lights on for photos and did about one minute of dance together.
I walked home and thought I was going the right way but chose the wrong Starbucks next to the Cathedral as my landmark. I ended up by the bullring again. For all of my effort to find it and now I can’t get away from it! I am very frustrated with the streets here. Usually my sense of direction is perfecto, but here I’ve been lost 3 times! I can’t even think of the last time that happened!
Aside from that part, Seville and Granada seem similar. They have similar main sights (palace and overlooking quarter, plus Cathedral) and an Arab influence. That makes sense though since they’re geographically near as well. From what I’ve seen in Granada and Sevilla, they’re LOADED with American students. It seems the south of Spain is the study abroad capital of the United States.