When the Cheshire emerges...

A year ago today I was at Madrid, Spain, attending a bullfight held at a packed Las Ventas. 

 

 

The performance on horseback isn't done as much but it was the only one I could attend and it was part of their yearly festival when the best in the country are all around. Saw a few of the very best. It was a very interesting experience and with a bit of research under my belt I'd managed (with assistance from my newfound friends) to order good tickets purely in Spanish with a bit of pointing. It turned sour when I had a worker verbally attack me in the native tongue after I incorrectly thought it was tradition to throw the cushions towards the arena at the end. The guy mocked and berated me, I've never felt so angry/offended ever. That could've even beaten the Sevilla moment to be honest.

But until then Madrid had been pretty good. And Cordoba before that where I spent two days (largely uneventful). But deciding to skip a trip to Malaga from there as I'd planned and head to Madrid a day early was fate because I met two lovely young ladies about half an hour after getting to my hostel - on a city walking tour. We would spend the next three days together, one in nearby Toledo with an extra companion.

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It wasn't all rosy though. How could it be when Spain had kept up its ability to challenge any foreigner it could? I found out two of the ladies had stuff stolen in Madrid, while the third did right under both of our noses in a shoe shop a few hours before she had to head to the airport to fly out. Ended worse for her than my start did for me. So it wasn't just me huh?

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But still, Spain continued to amaze me with its houses of God, which I almost felt were getting better and better with each one I saw, and I began to lose count of my ice cream consumption. My time in Madrid was made better with the company I found so I was ultimately grateful that my time in Spain ended on an oh-so-nearly perfect note.

Cordoba

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