Corrida de Toros

So I really have to stop putting this post off because my mother will have my head if I don't give an in depth description of her visit to Seville and my visit to Fuengirola for the weekend. To put it into context, my mother's visit took place at the beginning of the month, and it has taken me this long to post about it. This is not due to the lack of memories, or stories, unfortunately it's purely due to my pervasive procrastination with these types of things.

Taking things from the top then. So for a vacation my mother had planned to fly into Barcelona and then drive down to a resort that she, and a very close family friend had reserved for a week in the town of Fuengirola, just outside of Malaga. In this case I decided that I would go and meet her, spend some time in the coastal city and then make my way back in order to show my new home city around. Once I sat through the two different buses to get to the resort, I finally arrived and boy was it nice to be able to lounge around until my family showed up. Since my mother and Rose were flying in and had to drive from Barcelona, they were forced to endure a gruelling 9 hour drive down the Spanish coast. Now in actuality there are worse places to be stuck in a car, but 9 hours anywhere doesn't sound like an ideal situation to me.

Fuengirola was a very quant little city. Just like most other Andalusian cities I have visited thus far, it was full of its own little character, and possessed its own charm that would make me want to stay just a little longer if I had the time. Even though the weather didn't cooperate in the typical blistering heat and omnipotent sun, I can't tell you how relieving it was to spend time with family. Even though I had only been overseas for a month, I couldn't help but feel a little homesick and having the opportunity to spend some quality time with family kind of brings a piece of home to me.

Why I both love and hate having family come visit is summed up perfectly in this picture. 

 After Fuengirola, Rose, Mom, and I packed up the compact rental car (probably spacious in European terms) and made our way towards Seville. There must be something about driving in a car rather than a bus that really shows you how beautiful the Spanish countryside is. The terrain was never constant although, the only constant were the infinite olive plantations. Everywhere I looked I was able to see a massive expanse of olive trees that just had my mouth in a permanent state of salivation.

A small snapshot of the countryside with the olive fields everywhere.

Once in Seville, it was actually quite nice to be both at home, and feel like a tourist again while showing Mom and Rose around. We went and visited some of the main sights while enjoying excellent company together. Although, our first real experience together in Seville is one I will not soon forget. In Seville it is a way of life, and tradition that is steeped in culture. The Bull Fight was a veritable spectacle, but one I only need to see once to truly understand.

At this bull fight, everyone was dressed in the typical Andalusian attire, a light coloured dress shirt with pale khakis with brown shoes, and an unnecessary amount of leather bracelets and hair gel. I'll have to try this look out at some point, probably when my spanish gets better so that I feel that I will be able to back up the attire. Once seated the carnage began to ensue. One by one there were six different matadors who proceeded to display their prowess and tight glutes while slowly killing a bull. I guess the description I just gave really doesn't give the sport justice, but at no point did I ever feel that there was a possibility that the bull might turn things around and win. The whole process of it, I have to admit was quite fascinating, but it is something that truly shows man's power over animals. All critique aside, it was another opportunity to spend some quality time with Mom, and Rose because the next morning it was back to school for me and off to Malaga for Mom and Rose. 

I think a matador interview consists of seeing how long he can clinch his butt.  

Goodbye is always tough, and sometimes it feels nice that I will have my own space again, but there will always be a part of me that will miss having the comforts of home and the warm presence of my close family around. No matter what people say, family is truly where the heart is.