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I thought then and still think now these dresses are of a gorgeous design for the good figure. We may have seen some flamenco but not sure.
We stayed in Sevilla a couple of days then headed for Portugal before heading back toward Madrid in another week or two and then to Paris. I was living on three dollars a day and would like to have cut that to less, but it is difficult to do in that I was eating pretty good then. Was June and I intended to head north up thru France to Belgium and Denmark and then probably Scandinavia.
In Sevilla we went to a bullfight. The people around us who spoke English would tell us the ins and outs of bullfighting and complain about how bad the bull fighters were, and if we had only seen the great so and such. They seemed genuinely embarrassed by the performances and felt mortified in our presence apparently. Of course we wouldn't know a good matador from a stumble-bum. The bull came out through an opened gate, and that was quite dramatic. It was arrogant as all get-out: blustery, august-grand, majestic, spirited, egotistical, haughty and pompous. Then guys ran by it and stuck sticks into its neck, until it began to look like an ambulatory pin cushion. I then came to the understanding that the bull fighter doesn't come into the ring until the bull is in no fit condition to put-up a fair fight - having been bled enough to make him woozy of life preserving fluids. I was willing to give it a fair shot and bring no prejudices into the ring, but now I was beginning to have second-thoughts about this, what was becoming a sordid spectacle, and was starting to form a discrimination against it.
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