Shopping bag and plaza de toros
When I was in Torremolinos of Spain, I went shopping to Malaga once a week
by train. Because there wasn't even super market around my house. The train
was very roomy, clean and some how, a classic music was played from the
speakers. Adding to that, most of the passengers were elder people. It's
20 minute trip. After passing stations in residential area, I saw an air
port on the left. The train crossed a stream, and the scenery gradually
turns into the city's one. Shortly after, the train got into the under
ground station of Malaga.
Malaga was old town. The town where Picasso was born. The town where was
left by Picasso. Although I don't know the town in the Picasso's period,
Malaga wasn't countryside of Andalucia any more. It's a big city. But it's
true that Malaga still had the wicked atmosphere of port city. The climate
was everlasting spring. There was the avenue with palm trees and oranges
in front of the city hall. It enhanced the mood of resort. However once
look down the benches, I saw boozer was drinking under the mid day sun.
On the promenade of alcazar (fortress), young guys sneaked around and keeping
eyes on me. Scent of orange and smell of urine were all together in Malaga.
I bought a bunch of food stuff for one week. And I always stopped by "plaza
de toros", the bull ring, hanging shopping bags on my both hands.
Because of off season, the gate was loosely opened. So it's easy to get
into it. I sat on the stand seat for a while. I had only known small bull
rings. Compare to them, the bull ring of Malaga seemed so graceful. Blight
light and deep shadow. The sun shaded seats were called "sombra"
and which have sun shine were "Sol". A bull fight was usually
held in summer. Therefore "sombra" was more comfortable than
"sol", in another words, the sombra seat was more expensive than
the sol seat.
I was not satisfied with just sitting on the seat. So I came down and saw
the special room for taking the killed bull to the pieces. Then I went
down to the ground level and even observed the training of matadors. Perhaps,
they could not concentrate on the training because a strange guy having
plastic bags in his both hand was beside them. And me neither. I worried
all the time if a real bull was coming up. It must so stupid running away
from the bull with the shopping bags.
"Tasteless" in negative meanings and "good circumstances"
in positive, Torremolinos was so organized. I might be looked forward the weekly trip to Malaga
which made me touch on the wicked air. Five years later, I visited Trremolinos
again. There were new shopping mall. I had no reason to go to Malaga any
"Plaza de toros" Malaga, Spain 1997