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Published: July 10th 2006
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Today we ventured out to Arles. If you’re ever looking for a party at 11:00 on a Monday morning, go to Arles on the day of a bull show. We were planning on touring the Roman Arena and visiting the museum of antiquities; we weren’t expecting packed streets, live bands, wild dancing, horse parades, and live bulls roaming the streets. (For the record, we never saw a live bull, just the triangle-shaped warning signs. We did however stumble into music, dancing, and a horse procession. Festivities were going on all over the place.) We couldn’t tour the Roman Arena, because they were setting up for the bull show. “Bull show”-- that’s what the locals called it. They made clear that it wasn’t a “bull fight” and that we could get tickets and take our three-year-old. No blood or guts. I read somewhere that the bulls in Arles die of old age. I’m sure Katherine would have loved the bulls and horses, but the heat was intense, and the show wasn’t until the afternoon, so we passed on the offer. We did however, buy her a bull stuffed animal. Then that evening at the hotel we turned on our television and watched
A Square
June Bug and her stuffed bull enjoy live music as they bake in the heat. a crazy French show with bulls: lots of contestants, hilarious costumes, outrageous stunts, angry bulls. I’m trying really hard to think of a way to describe it, but I can’t. Men, women and children competed, but the children’s stunt didn’t involve bulls.
P.S. The parking lot in Arles had a bare-necessities outdoor restroom which David thought was great. No closing doors, just swinging doors to cover your midsection. David was all like "Look, Sally!" And I was really embarassed to look up and see a man peeing right next to me. Our eyes never met, thank goodness. David wanted me to take his picture in the restroom, but I wouldn't, so he took pictures of it empty. Guys are impressed by the simplest things.
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