Ronda

"I have searched everywhere for the city of dreams and found it here, in Ronda." - Rainer Maria Rilke, poet

We take the bus to Ronda, the location of the largest and oldest bullfighting rings in Spain. Bullfighters are rock stars in Spain. In fact, bullfights are part of Sunday afternoon spectator sports and are broadcast on TV. Think Sunday afternoon football in the United States. There is a museum attached to the bull ring where the costumes, capes, and saddles -- all part of the pageantry -- are on display. All of these items are hand sewn and embroidered.

Mom and I admire the straightness of the stitches, the artistry, and the designs. When I was young, my mom made a lot of our Sunday best clothes. Picture me in my Easter outfit: big straw hat, blue coat, yellow dress with flowers, patent leather shoes with white anklets, and of course, white gloves. All clothing hand sewn ... quite the picture.

Our hotel in Ronda is beautiful with a lovely swimming pool. Before dinner we are treated to a concert by the very talented Amica, who is traveling with her mom and sister. They are from New Hampshire. When Amica returns home, she will immediately go to a five-week violin summer camp. It may be a coincidence, but was there a Stradivarius missing from the Prado when our group was touring? Hmm...

"Bullfighting is the only art in which the artist is in danger of death and in which the degree of brilliance in the performance is left to the fighter's honor." - Earnest Hemingway

Our group heads over to a bull farm owned by bullfighter Rafael Tajada. We learn from the tour guide about the reverence and caring for the bulls and the history of bullfighting. Of course, some of us have to practice bullfighting. Here is Javier as the bull and Mike as the matador.

We practice bullfighting techniques, which I think would get us all gored by a bull. Then off we go to a family run olive oil mill where we are instructed in the traditional ways of making the oil. Here is a photo of the owner of the mill, and if you look closely you can see our group reflected in his sunglasses. No more bulk Costco olive oil for me.

We head over to Arcos and stay in a hotel with a beautiful view of the city. I watch the light settling in on the town. Before dinner, I walk along the streets of Arcos. Later in the evening, there is a procession honoring Saint Peter. A group of men and women carry a very heavy platform with a statue of Saint Peter on it. They balance the float on their neck and shoulders. I am thinking they will need my services as a physical therapist after this.