For most of my time in Spain I was loathe to attend a bullfight. Especially after hearing the experiences of my friend Christina in Ciudad Rodrigo – where they do bull runs and bullfights for Carnival – I found little to no appeal in what I saw as an unforgiving blood sport.
But my Spanish history and culture teacher was adamant. “Even if you don’t agree with it,” he would tell us, “you should see it once before making a judgment.” At the time we were learning all about tauromaquia, the umbrella term for everything surrounding this deeply controversial spectacle. Read more
It’s a Sunday afternoon in Madrid and we are standing in the central square known as the Puerta del Sol (“Gate of the Sun”), kilometre zero of Spanish roads and the pulsating heart of the capital. Home to great collective events like the city’s New Year celebrations, it is now centre stage for a spontaneous nationwide protest movement dubbed “15-M”. Read more
It is difficult to pinpoint the exact moment when I shed the trappings of a tourist and began acting like a local. Maybe it all started when I went to the bar opening on the second night without my camera in tow. Or perhaps it was more to do with the fact that I knew enough Spanish to get me by. Read more
In the rain, the wet cobblestones reflect the glow of the street lamps and the darkening skies above. I am in Lavapiés with my high school friend Chelsie, who lives in a flat in this gritty, bohemian inner-city neighbourhood. Read more