the random Radiohead mix at the local internet spot.
Well, today is my last in Spain. It's a shame I haven't had more time to update the almighty blog (because I know each and everyone of you is hanging on every typed word), but every day has been filled with wandering the metro, avoiding dog... poop, and acting like a complete guiri.
Went to Las Ventas with Miguelito and Miguelon (yeah, you try keeping them straight) on Wednesday. The ceremony of it all was impressive. The moment of slaughter was not. It was just sad, to be honest. But I loved every other aspect of the bullfight so much that I seem to have repressed my inner-PETA person. Well, at least for now.
Favourite Spain moment so far is as follows:
We (Nacho, Miguelito y yo) were walking back from the Palacio Real to KM 0 (in order to meet Salva, Susana y Marta for an etypical espanish night) and passed a statue of Larra (1809-1837). The dates made it clear he died at 28 (or 29. My math skills are now notoriously awful. Terrible, terrible). I mentioned to mis hombres that Larra died rather young.
"He committed suicide," Miguelito explained.
"He was a Romantic."
It made my heart sparkle. Es un poco de humor de empollón, pero bueno.