The Bullfight


So while I was in Deba, I got to be there during the festival of San Roke, which meant everyone dressed up in white and red and there was a mini carnival and music and everyone drank all night and slept all morning and hit repeat for four days.  During the festival, there also ended up being bull fighting, which is tradition to have at any of the festivals. If you’ve ever talked to a Spaniard about bullfighting, you’ll know that it’s an either or situation. For them,  there’s no middle ground, you either agree with it or else you don’t.  


I didn’t actually get to see the full bull fight (and I’m told that, if you’re going to watch one, you watch the good ones, which are normally in Madrid where all the best matadors are), but they did let people through the gates towards the end. So the kids and I crawled underneath the stands (which is a.) really uncomfortable and b.) probably not the best idea) and I got my first glimpses of a bull fight.  To be honest, I don’t have anything to say other than I thought it was interesting. It’s such a cultural thing and is so associated with Spain that it was interesting to see the reactions that people gave when they talked about it and their points of view about it.   I would like to, and am planning on, going to see another bull fight, this time sitting in the stands instead of underneath them and watching one the whole way through.





Things I’m Loving:

+ This playlist – (to get you started on your weekend.)
+ This photo – (The light on her face is stunning.)
+ This recipe – (In case you ran out of things to make out of all those pumpkins.)
+ This cocktail – (Also for your weekend.)


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