I made a very bad judgement call last night and went with Nigel to the bull fight. I hadn't thought too hard about it because A. I assumed that in the age of dog reiki and cat psychology, nothing much would be allowed to happen to bulls. And B. I just thought the matador would do that little shaking thing with his cape and the bull would run at it a few times. Anyway this was as far from reality as I could imagine. I'm not even going to grace this blog with what happens but safe to say I cried from the minute it started and we left as soon as we could (they lock you in once a fight starts and no one can leave or enter until that fight is over). I've since done what I should have done before I left and looked it up. It turns out that now bullfighting is a protected 'art' in Spain because of its social, political and cultural significance.
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