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 more.