I have a lot to catch up on, and Iīve recently learned the par of a good story from the Irish, and so thereīs no better place to start than with the death of two bulls.
A couple weeks ago Laurel and I went to a bullfight. A traditional Spanish Intelligence versus Strength man versus beast macho elegant bullfight. If thatīs what you want to think about Bullfights for the rest of your life, or if you have a weak spot for bulls, stop reading....here. Because heres what really happens.
The Bull comes out into the ring, seeing light for the first time in days and already bleeding, and Iīm guessing itīs not because he tripped on his way out or picked a scab or something (gross, sacha.) And thereīs not one flamboyantly dressed man out there waiting for him, but 30, some of them on horses. And they chase the bull around the ring for a while with their pink capes (did you think I was kidding when I said flamboyant?) to confuse him. Then the guys on the horses stab him for a while. Then some of the more daring bullies (Iīm pretty sure this is actually where that word originates from after seeing this fight) has some huge metal hooks. Sorry, theyīre not that morbid. Huge metal hooks decorated with Spanish colored ribbons. And he runs up to the bull and pierces him with the hooks so they stay in, and runs away with the rest of the bullies.
And THEN the bullfighter comes out, when the bull is dizzy, tired, and wounded. The first one I saw was actually vomiting blood. And he kind of walks at the waving cape to humor everyone, and then the bullfighter stabs him between the eyes about 10 times until he falls over with his legs all stiff in the air. Then they play some trumpets and drag him out of the ring and pour sand over the bloodstains.
Apparently this happens to six bulls every match, but I couldnīt confirm that for you, because our stomachs only tolerated 2.
Okay bull lovers you can start reading again! The bull was freed at the end into the countryside, one that had never ending fruit. SPEAKING of countryside, item two of three: IRELAND.
On the 17th of April I went to Ireland (exactly one month too late for St. Patrickīs day.) We got there around dinner time and weīre picked up my Laurelīs family friend Bartley. Bartley is a darling Irish man from Trim who has a million stories and a wonderful Irish accent to tell them in. He wasted no time in starting with them on our countryside ride to his cottage in Trim (a small town about an hour outside of Dublin). When we got to his cottage (I donīt think the word house exists in Irish. Theyīre all on cottage status, by my standards), we had some dinner and tea and told more stories and went to bed.
The next day we woke up to have oatmeal with irish milk, Irish soda bread with Irish butter, and coffee with Irish cream, and went into Dublin. We saw a house, no, cottage in the city that Bartley is remodeling, the Book of Kells, Grafton Street, a park that I forget the name of, and Temple Bar. At temple bar we went into the actual temple bar and had a pint while we listened to live Irish music. Afterwards we talked to one of the musicians and he told us a story about how heīs a miner in Africa. (I also wasnīt kidding about those Irish story tellers.)
Then we had dinner number one in town and drove back to Trim (along the countryside listening to Irish celtic music, and I called the window, which in this case was on the driverīs side, which was strange), where we had dinner number two, some tea by the fireside, and bed.
The next day we started the same (see above menu or recall recent jealousy drool on keyboard) and then our personal tourguide took us out to Fore, a monastic settlement close to trim. It has a tree that supposedly doesnīt burn and water that supposedly runs uphill. The tree that supposedly doesnīt burn sure does have some dangerous kindle on it...when you visit the tree, youīre supposed to attach a piece of your clothing to it for the grace of good health. Most people chose to attach their socks. As for the water running uphill, well...it was at the very least a very slight slant. Almost completely vertical. Erosion might have taken itīs toll, I donīt know.
In any case, we explored around the place for a while, and I found a heart shaped rock to go in the heart shaped locket Iīd bought the previous day (with that Irish Claddagh symbol on it) which matches my heart shaped bracelet and heart shaped ring and earings, none of which were intentionally bought to match the others.
Then we had a picnic in the pigeon tower, watched the cows and sheep and rabbits for a while, took some pictures, and went on our way home again to duck (yes I ate duck) and tea and ice cream and fireside and a bed that forces you to sleep in.
The next morning we went to Church (I have now been to Church in 5 countries, and 5 languages if you count Irish as a language, which it sort of is?), and then to Trim castle right next to it. This is where Braveheart was filmed, which I definetely appreciated, but probably would have appreciated more if I hadnīt fallen asleep when attempting to watch the movie. It was alongside a river, which we walked along afterwards, played with the sheep, and found a 300 year old graveyard and some ponies walking around which we also played with (can you imagine the amount of animal noises we imitated this weekend, seeing as how the natural human reaction when encountering any animal is to attempt to speak their language?). On the walk home, Bartley drove us out to one more ruin, where we climbed around and took more photos, including one out of a tower window, which Laurel took the picture of, because I called that one, too.
Speaking of calling the window again, the third highlighted activity of my last two months was seeing a show called Me Pido La Ventana. Itīs a stand up comedy show of a Colombian Comic named Andrés Lopez. It was quite appropriate for many reasons, apart from the obvious that I like to laugh and I like to appreciate that I can laugh in Spanish. Me Pido La Ventana is a saying referring to the craving to see the world from as many views as possible.
Humor and Intellectuality are friends yet again!
p.s. Iīll try to steal some of laurelīs pictures to put on that same webpage I put the other oneīs on, so look into it.
Ireland's Flag
Map of Ireland