I had a couple of goals for the long weekend in Spain. First, I wanted to go to see, or perhaps participate in, the running of the bulls in Pamplona. The first day of the festival was over the weekend, and I hoped to catch a train up there early and do some bullin' and then head back to Barcelona. No hotel required. In the weeks leading up to my trip to Spain I attempted to secure reservations on a train while in Italy. This proved to be impossible. I tried to go to the train station in Rome, but I was told that they did not sell tickets for international journeys at the International window. What they did sell was a mystery. I could purchase tickets online, but they would be sent to the U.S. and there was no way to get them to Italy. Sending things by mail to Italy is a poor idea.

When I arrived in Barcelona I tried to wait in line at the train station, but the line was unbelievably long. So we headed to our rental unit, which was right off of La Rambla, the main tourist drag. I headed back to the train station, but still too long a line to be worth it. So I went online and rented a car from Hertz at the airport. I then took a train to the airport and a bus to Hertz, only to realize that I had left my driver's license in Rome. After all, why would I need my driver's license in Spain? D'oh! I took this as a hint that I was not destined to see or participate in the running of the bulls. One intereting note about La Rambla was that I spent a decent amount of time at night watching a crew run a three-card-monte scam. In all there were two lookouts (one in each direction who would signal if the cops were coming), the dealer, and three 'players.' The game was setup on a piece of cardboard on a milk carton, which was easy to move if the cops showed up. Everyone would head off in a different direction, the dealer folding and bringing his cardboard. The 'players' would place bets and sometimes win and sometimes lose. But with a few people crowded around the dealer, it was clearly easy money for the marks, right?

My next goal for Barcelona was seeing a bull fight. I am not a big fan of cruely to animals, or even hunting for that matter. However, it is one of those things that I figured was worth seeing once in one's life. We got tickets to a bull fight and headed over to the Plaza de Toros. It was definitely interesting. In essence, it is a play, with scripted roles, drama, and the like. The main difference being that one of the actors is pretty well assured of dying. Most of the time, that would be the bull. However, every once-in-a-while, that is the matador instead.

The script goes as such. First, everyone, except the bulls, parade out. Then, a matador comes out and a bull comes out. The bull is already slightly wounded at the start. The matador shows off his courage and skill by receiving and avoiding the bull's charges. Then a horseman comes out on a well-padded horse. The horseman spears the bull in the back of the neck, further weakening the bull. Next, the matador returns and when the bull charges, he side-steps and sinks a pair of blades with tassels of a sort into the area between the bull's shoulder blades. This is done twice and the lost blood weakens the bull further and causes a distracting amount of pain. Finally, the matador uses cape to receive additional charges and then uses a long, curved sword to kill the bull. A good matador will kill the bull with a single stab between the shoulder blades.

As I said, a play where one of the actors dies at the end. Overall, I thought it interesting but rather sickening. First, I would prefer if the matador went in against the bull without outside assistance. Even better if he did it without a weapon! Second, I would prefer if the bull was not, essentially, tortured to death. I guess that is why they do not place me in charge of public spectacles. The bull is then dragged out of the circle and the next fight begins. There were three fights.

My next goal for Barcelona was seeing some of Antoni Gaudí's unique architecture. Gaudí is known for eschewing corners and straight lines. He makes use of a lot of color and a look clearly inspired by nature. Some of his best known works in Barcelona are Güell Park, which is a public park on a hillside overlooking Barcelona, the Sagrada Familia, a partially-completed church, as well as a number of houses and buildings, like Casa Mila. We went inside all three of the buildings listed, as well as going past a number of others. Some really cool stuff. The Sagrada Familia was just enormous. For someone afraid of heights, it was a bit of a challange, but I made it through unscathed.

My final goal for Barcelona was to get the **** out of Italy for a while. My command of Spanish far exceeded my command of Italian, even after being polluted by the Italian I learned. In addition, the people in Spain seemed more willing to help out with things. One annoying thing in Italy was that all of the movies were dubbed in Italian. That is probably OK for people who at least speak Italian. Not so good for me. I found a couple of theaters in Barcelona that played the original versions of movies, with subtitles. As a result of not getting to Pamplona, I had a bit of extra time, so I saw "The Man Who Wasn't There" and "The Believer." Both were pretty good and it was weird coming out of the theater, in a mall, with a candy counter, it was just like being at home. While at the airport on my way back to Rome, I saw an Italian man trying to talk to a shop keeper. The Italian man clearly spoke no Spanish and the shop keeper spoke no Italian. I thought to myself how poetic the word is some times.

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