KS - Barcelona
I have an old post card that Mom saved, depicting Zaragoza and also a couple more from Barcelona. We spent about three days in Barcelona - one of the cards said we got there on the 13th of April 1962. Still in my possession is a business card from the Hotel Villa Madrid - where we stayed - and a map of the city of Barcelona.
We went to a bullfight on the Sunday we were there – it was packed out, something like our pro football games. I still have a booklet from the event, telling some things about the proceedings – in fact I just noticed at this writing for the first time that it was also written in English. Inside were pictures of their usual bullfighters, with descriptive photos of the happenings in the ring.
It was a bad day for the bulls – none won that day, even though they put up a good fight – I think it was fixed. They tried to let one of them win, but he wouldn’t have any part of it and they finally allowed him to assume ambient temperature – with a little help. Then he – like the rest – was very unceremoniously dragged from the ring by a team of mules – probably to a nearby fresh meat market.
According to another post card, we headed back north on the 16th of April, crossing back into France. Our route took us along the French Rivera, but it was much too cold – and wet – for doing anything at the beach except for admiring it from a distance and a couple of damp, windblown photos. This card was from Marseille, dated 17 April 1962 and stated that we had slept a few hours in the car before arriving there that morning. Three full-grown guys snoozing in a VW bug was a bit crowded, to say the least. On the way there we passed through Perpignan, Narbonne, Beziers and Montpellier – all in France.
Our tour of Europe took place in peacetime, but there was an unseen war going on. The prize of this war had nothing to do with gold or possession of land – it was for the control of my soul. What made it all worse was the fact that I was aiding and abetting the enemy in his quest.
To be cont’d. ec
We went to a bullfight on the Sunday we were there – it was packed out, something like our pro football games. I still have a booklet from the event, telling some things about the proceedings – in fact I just noticed at this writing for the first time that it was also written in English. Inside were pictures of their usual bullfighters, with descriptive photos of the happenings in the ring.
It was a bad day for the bulls – none won that day, even though they put up a good fight – I think it was fixed. They tried to let one of them win, but he wouldn’t have any part of it and they finally allowed him to assume ambient temperature – with a little help. Then he – like the rest – was very unceremoniously dragged from the ring by a team of mules – probably to a nearby fresh meat market.
According to another post card, we headed back north on the 16th of April, crossing back into France. Our route took us along the French Rivera, but it was much too cold – and wet – for doing anything at the beach except for admiring it from a distance and a couple of damp, windblown photos. This card was from Marseille, dated 17 April 1962 and stated that we had slept a few hours in the car before arriving there that morning. Three full-grown guys snoozing in a VW bug was a bit crowded, to say the least. On the way there we passed through Perpignan, Narbonne, Beziers and Montpellier – all in France.
Our tour of Europe took place in peacetime, but there was an unseen war going on. The prize of this war had nothing to do with gold or possession of land – it was for the control of my soul. What made it all worse was the fact that I was aiding and abetting the enemy in his quest.
To be cont’d. ec
posted by mreddie | 6:33 PM
5 Comments:
I am awaiting the next installment.
Barking goldfish, huh? Funny.
I saw a bull fight in the sixties in memory of Hemingway. My younger son was disgusted and wouldn't come. I wouldn't repear the experience.
I love that part of France. we used to stay in my friend's house in the Langedoc - less spoilt than Provence. Could we see the post-cards?
granny - The saga continues on Mondays and Tuesdays. The goldfish thing was very funny, it continued growling as the cat was leaving. :)
pi - The bullfight was quite an experience - don't know if I would enjoy a repeat performance. My knowledge is limited in the posting of pictures, but it will be a future addition. ec
I remember my grandparents filming a bullfight in Spain, and I watched the swords hanging out, blood running down his side. I couldn't bear to watch it. More fun were the bulls chasing men down an alleyway, everyone running.
bonita - At least the running down the alleyways puts the bulls in much more of a position of power. There is an old saying - If you mess with the bull, you'll get the horn. ec
Post a Comment
<< Home