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My first Spanish bullfight.

I arrive at the Plaza de Toros de La Maestranza at 6:29 p.m. and walk straight up to the ticket counter. I have no idea what this thing is going to cost me. The agent shows me a seating chart by price and I select the cheapest option, which still puts me back $35. The best seats in the ring cost upwards of $200 for certain bullfights. I exit, ticket in hand, and the large wooden doors for the ticket office close behind me. For a country so notorious for its fluid concept of time they sure take their Spanish bullfight punctuality seriously.

There are no concession stands. What’s the point of even watching a sport if you can’t drink beer and eat a hot dog? Like, I’m from Chicago.

Everyone is already seated and I’m not permitted to take mine because the bullfight has started, which is fine with me as I don’t exactly know where I’m going anyway and I feel extremely self-conscious in these foreign surroundings. Surely my presence must scream bleeding-heart-liberal-Democrat-animal-loving-sanctimonious-judgmental-xenophobic-ugly-American. I stand in the entranceway for awhile — my view blocked — and eventually take my seat. A seat, anyway.

Seville bullfight


I know very little about the Spanish bullfight: there’s a matador, there’s a bull, the matador pisses off the bull by throwing javelins at it, the bull charges the matador, the matador uses his cape to confuse the bull, the bull dies, we all go home. Olé.

In actuality the Spanish bullfight is obviously much more complex and very ritualized. To break the event down as simplistically as possible, it consists of three matadors, accompanied by a crew of assistants, each fighting two bulls (not simultaneously). Each fight has three stages: the tercio de varas (the part of lances), the tercio de banderillas (the part of banderillas), and the tercio de muerte (the part of death).


My heart rate palpably accelerates when the bull charges into the ring: it’s big, it’s powerful, and it’s NOT happy to be there. The assistants and then the matador thrust their capes and incite the beast for the purpose of seizing up their opponent. This is fun.

Two more assistants enter the ring riding blindfolded horses wearing a padded sort of armor. The furious bull attacks the clueless horse, nearly wrestling it to the ground as my heart clenches in empathy for the poor animal that has got to be utterly terrified. Now it’s the bull’s turn to be tortured: the assistants stab it in the neck with their lances. This is not fun.


Now the matador and his assistants plant barbed sticks into the weakening, enraged bull. yay.

Everyone around me is engrossed in this lopsided spectacle. Enrapt, no one appears to be tweeting or updating their Facebook status or texting photos to friends. The sixty-something man and his wife seated next to me passionately chant óle óle óle (not olé) in awe after every pass the matador completes. Children look on, much as they would observe Disney on Ice.

I confess I’m not immune to the adrenaline rush produced by the drama unfolding below me: my palms sweat for the bull, for the matador, for the assistants, for those goddamn horses.


The matador returns to the ring and performs a number of distinct styles of passes, luring the bull in with his red cape (the bull is color blind: the red hides the blood), inching ever closer to the dying, murderous animal as their dance becomes more intimate and intense. I’m mesmerized and I loath myself for it.

Finally the matador puts the beast out of its misery with what looks like to be a stab to the head. The crowd cheers. A team of mules is released into the ring and they drag the bloody body out. The brass band plays like it’s halftime. Where are the cheerleaders?

I hang in for another round. This time, during the tercio de banderillas, the bull pursues an assistant who hides behind a barrier, and the beast crashes head-on into the planks. It falls to its back, legs flailing in the air. Seconds pass. It struggles, and struggles, and cannot right itself. The crowd is enthralled. I can’t handle this. Somehow witnessing the humiliation bothers me more than observing the fear and pain. I feel shitty.

I leave.


Not far from the Plaza de Toros, walking through the streets of Santa Cruz, I pass a band of a cappella singers entertaining the carefree Sunday crowd with comical ditties. I discover the resplendent El Divino Salvador church where people kneel humbly. Singing, laughing, praying, killing, music, beauty, death — the contrasts are difficult to process.

El Divino Salvador church

I order dinner and chastise myself for giving $35 to the Spanish bullfight and contributing to its sustainability. Yet here I am eating serrano ham with pleasure. I can condone the pig’s pain and suffering because I wasn’t there to witness it?

I reach a reconciliation. The bulls and pig suffered at the end in exchange for life. They would have never lived if they weren’t destined to serve some purpose. And unless you’re fortunate enough to be born as Paris Hilton, Petra Ecclestone or a spoiled pet like my two cats there’s a price to pay for your existence. You’ve got to commute two hours daily, or smile at your boss’s lame jokes, or pull a cart, or lay some eggs, or blow the repulsive producer or fight a guy wearing tight-fitting, gold-brocaded pants and a funny hat. There’s no free lunch. Not usually, anyway. So that’s how I justify my behavior.

Still, I’ll be donating to PAWS (Pets Are Worth Saving) when I return home to Chicago.

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This post is part of a Japan Trip series.

If you visit just one city in Japan, make it Kyoto. With its temples, geiko (geisha), bamboo groves, walking paths and traditional wooden houses it is the quintessential Japanese city combining the charm of Takayama with the glitz of Tokyo.

Now, here’s what you should do in Kyoto.


After my spartan stay at Ekoin walking into the Hyatt Regency Kyoto felt like entering a palace. A concierge! Restaurants! My own shower! Sure, sleeping on the floor of a monastery is all fun and games for one night. And then it’s not. I like my luxuries.

Kyoto Hyatt do in kyoto


  • Complimentary taxi service from Kyoto Station (but it’s secret complimentary taxi service: the Hyatt Regency Kyoto website and the reservation confirmation emails fail to mention the service.) After you disembark, go to the MK taxi stand near the Ibis hotel to claim your cab
  • Proximity to the Yogen-in Temple (next door), Shichijo station (the Keihan Line conveniently runs North and South along the River) and a McDonald’s (I know! I know it’s wrong! But I will never get used to Japanese food for breakfast)
  • Choice of three restaurants and a bar
  • $30 off meals and spa services when you book your reservation online (this may be a temporary perk — I was surprised to receive it even though I booked my stay with points)
  • Some native English speaking staff
  • Above-and-beyond, friendly service (outside of the restaurants, anyway)
  • Garden/courtyard views
  • The Hyatt Regency Kyoto accepts and awards Starwood Points
  • To-die-for pillows (of course any pillow is going to feel like heaven after that oversized bag of marbles I slept on at Ekoin)
  • Colorful but tasteful decor:

Hyatt Regency Kyoto


When you arrive at Kyoto Station, go to the Tourist Information Center to get a map and the Kyoto Walks guide (or download it here), which outlines specific routes and lists the admission fees and opening hours for the sights along them. My favorite of the Kyoto Walks was the Higashiyama Area walk (photo below) that cuts through the Gion district, past shops, restaurants, temples, and gardens into Maruyama Park, ending at the Heian Jingu Shrine. If you’re not walked-out at this point, head approximately six blocks east to catch the lovely Path of Philosophy leading to even more temples and shrines. Kyoto is not lacking in temples and shrines.


Exploring the Gion District was my favorite thing to do in Kyoto. Don’t stick precisely to the Higashiyama Area walk artery: explore its capillaries for glimpses into upscale residential life in Kyoto. Everything feels so secretive, so impenetrable in Japan: I’ve never felt like more of a foreigner in this land than when I wandered through Kyoto’s backstreets.

Kyoto Walk

The street you hear the most about — Shijo Street — may be the most dull: the blocks north of it are far more interesting. I’d walk them at night, passing the endless clubs, restaurants and teahouses that appear so aloof and unwelcoming. Who is going to all those places? What’s going on in there?

Geiko (Kyoto dialect for geisha) and maiko (geiko apprentices) spotting is a popular pastime in these parts, but during the day you’re more likely to spy young Japanese women dressing up as geiko for a kick, shuffling joyfully between temples and posing for selfies with unsuspecting tourists.

From Gion, cross the Kamo River near Shijo Station and stroll the atmospheric Pontocho Alley (it runs parallel to the west bank of the river) in the evening. The narrow strip of sidewalk is not much to look at by day, but its restaurants and bars come alive at night.


The Arashiyama District is an easy Japan Railway train ride from Kyoto Station. You’ll first encounter its main street, which is kinda touristy but should not be overlooked if for no other reason than the availability of green tea, black sesame and yuba tofu soft serve ice cream cones (all excellent and, yes, I indulged in one of each).

sesame softserve

A pleasant  (if melanoma-inducing) walk or bike ride through the district will lead you to multiple shrines, the Kameyama-koen monkey park, and the river where you can rent a boat and do some rowing. Or, — better yet — sit in the shade, enjoy a tap beer and watch other people row their boats past you while feeling smug.

Don’t miss the tranquilic bamboo grove.

Kyoto Arashiyama Bamboo


Here’s how you find Sen Mon Ten restaurant: Find Man on the Moon pub, which is on many maps and sports a big sign written in English, and then look across the street. That little hole-in-the-wall restaurant at the top of the steps that you would never, ever look at twice? That’s Sen Mon Ten.

Sen Mon Ten is not fancy. For decor there’s a tv, a bar, and a few tables and stools. For food there are three varieties of gyoza (potstickers) (vegetarian, pork or pork topped with melted cheese), draft beer, sake and all the pickles you can eat. Unlike many Kyoto restaurants hidden behind foreboding heavy wooden doors, Sen Mon Ten is casual, welcoming and unintimidating, and the food is cheap and tasty. Sen Mon Ten is a neighborhood hidden gem that is worth the search.

Senmonten Kyoto


The one thing you absolutely HAVE to do in Kyoto is visit the temples. More on that subject in my next post…


My last recommendation for what to do in Kyoto is to check-out the Inside Kyoto website before you go. It’s an attractive, straightforward website authored by Chris Rowthorn, author of Lonely Planet Kyoto. You will find everything about what to do in Kyoto and how to do it at this resource.

Read the entire Japan Trip series.

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I am in marketing, fly a lot and have a skewed sense of humor. So of course Virgin America’s new campaign cracks me up. The sarcastic creatives behind it have perfectly satired the bland flying experience and lousy customer service that’s pervasive in the uninspired airline industry and have delivered it in the boring package that is BLAH Airlines.

You will get there. — BLAH Airlines

The name says it all. — Connie C., 54. Payallup, Washington


BLAH Airlines logoThe brilliance of the BLAH Airlines design (hell, the whole campaign) is not that it’s so bad, but that’s it’s so believably bad.

Of course beige is the brand’s color scheme: that’s a no-brainer. But that font selection is pure genius — awful enough to offend, but it’s not overly offensive. I’ll bet valuable BLAH Airlines miles (that can be redeemed for earphones that work) that the marketers behind this graphic travesty debated long and hard over the just-right so-wrong-it’s-right typography.

And about the layout of the logo. It’s not good. Again, the team successfully managed to balance off-putting with not quite over-the-top-off-putting that would trespass beyond the realm of belief.

it’s such a fine line between stupid and clever. — David St. Hubbins and Nigel Tufnel, Spinal Tap

And a lot of thought went into creating a website that looks like not a lot of thought went into creating the website. With BLAHairlines.com’s grid paper background, mixed fonts (some with shadows — always a good look), amateur graphics and grainy photos it succeeds in exemplifying the company’s commitment to mediocrity while simultaneously calling out the cookie cutter website design of nearly every airline.


BLAH Airlines peanutsBLAH Airlines provides an array of amenities (proudly identified by #travelperks on Twitter) including (but not limited to): rear-mounted magazine pouches; complimentary peanuts (which come free, they add); drinks, sodas, and other liquids; and “entertainment” (their quotes, not mine). One might think that the marketers are going a tad bit overboard here, except I had the misfortune to fly not only Ryanair but EasyJet recently, and neither offered the luxury of rear-mounted magazine pouches; complimentary peanuts (provided free); drinks, sodas or other liquids (at no cost); nor “entertainment”.

The (BLAH Airlines) windows can be opened or closed. — Gwen G., 68. Phoenix, Arizona


Blah Airlines Bulk lint

Has BLAH Airlines got perks? You bet!

For one, BLAH Airlines passengers are afforded the opportunity to buy Air Junk™ from the Air Junk™ catalogue, which offers such practical must-haves as bulk lint, a rubber band, a red brick and a paper cup. Some loyal passengers are appreciative, yet more hard-to-please flyers have expressed (through social media outlets) an unfilled need for hair picks, executive beige bricks, and bags of cat hair.

You can’t please all of the people all of the time. — Abraham Lincoln

And speaking of fiber, per a Facebook announcement yesterday: you can also buy Stool on BLAH Airlines. A wooden stool that is, for passengers who want to take the comfort of their seat home with them.

I envision the Virgin America popular kids (the Marketing department) behind this campaign collapsed over a conference table in a hip, glass-walled room laughing themselves to tears over the mundacity of “bulk lint”. They’ve got a fun job, those marketers.

You might be thinking to yourself that those very marketers have finally jumped the shark with their ridiculous Air Junk™ offerings until, like me, you are forced to rifle through a stained SkyMall magazine between O’Hare and Detroit Metropolitan Wayne County Airport and discover that this real-world shopping magazine makes available items as ordinary as 7-Watt Replacement Bulbs, Toilet Locks, Compression Socks, Gutter Zap Cleaning Spray and Night Bunion Regulators (great name for a band, though). Suddenly “bulk lint” doesn’t seem so far-fetched.

BLAH Airlines coffee and bev nap

Shopping aside, other BLAH Airlines perks include free cups with every decaffeinated coffee order (limit one per customer, per flight), the BLAH Airlines Beige Credit Card ($450 quarterly fee) and pay phones at their terminals. The psuedoperks are funny because they’re grounded in reality. At the risk of sounding like Jerry Seinfeld, what’s with airlines no longer offering free meals on domestic flights, having to book award travel 331 days in advance, and the lack of in-seat power outlets on most major carriers (except, ahem, Virgin America)?


Like marketing, retail sales, and running a public aviation company, customer service isn’t BLAH Airlines’ strong suit.

We don’t care. We don’t have to. — The Phone Company

Customers are advised to contact BLAH Airlines over the telephone, via fax machine (they’re very fond of faxing over there at BLAH) or by sending them an email.

We may not respond, but you can always contact us via fax, phone, or email. — BLAH Airlines on Twitter

Customers calling BLAH will reach a robotic sounding, slightly-garbled and inarticulate automated attendant:

Thank you for calling BLAH Airlines. To ensure that we are best able to serve you, we will give you some options for you to pick. Please listen closely to our menu of options as they may have shifted even though they probably have not changed in years.

Customers seeking arrival or departure status information are told that their flight is delayed, those wanting nutrition information on BLAH peanuts will hear a detailed dietary breakdown for both the salted and unsalted varieties, and anyone curious as to the in-flight entertainment will learn that Gary Giggles (a baby who can talk) will be shown on longer legs. Anyone hoping to reach a human is SOL.

Not big on phones myself, I e-mailed BLAH Airlines requesting use of their photos in this post. My inquiry was met with the following reply:

Hello Individual,

You are receiving this automated electronic mail because you contacted BLAH Airlines with a comment, question, or suggestion. We acknowledge your input but are not responding to individual communications at this time. For a more personalized experience, please refer to our Response Matrix below.

Yours in transit,

BLAH Airlines, Consumer Interaction Division

“You will get there”

The Response Matrix displayed a chart offering canned replies depending on whether the email is a comment, question or suggestion and is positive neutral or negative.

If all else fails, customers are invited to chat live with Sheri, who suspiciously resembles a mannequin (with bad teeth and lockjaw).

Sheri: Welcome to BLAH, sir or ma’am!

Me: Hi, Sheri

Sheri: I didn’t realize that is how you felt about that.

Me: Sheri, I forgot my diamond tiara on the plane

Sheri: Okay, let’s go back.

Me: Back where?

Sheri: You’re going to love our peanuts.

This parody is not that far off-the-mark from the real thing. Gary Giggles sounds execrable but a quick search of current online entertainment offerings on major airlines includes such Oscar contenders as the Sandler/Barrymore hit (to use the word loosely) BlendedGodzilla (yes, there’s a 2014 version) and endless episodes of The Big Bang Theory, which is admittedly entertaining. Until the fourth consecutive episode.

And we’ve all been sucked into a hellish automated attendant vortex in which our punched-in responses deliver us to an endless loop of repeating options, our pointer finger eventually bruised from stabbing wildly at the keypad through a film of tears. Who among us has not flipped-off our phone as an automated attendant failed to recognize our verbal “DE – PAR – TURES” directive after multiple, clearly enunciated attempts? Then hated ourself afterwards for being reduced to profaning a computer.

Should a person have the good fortune of reaching a live, breathing, agent, good luck booking flights with Miles (you’d reserve them online if you could, but the options are neither visible nor bookable on the airline’s website). Just as often as not you will be rushed through your award flight inquiries by an impatient agent who clearly can’t wait to discontinue the conversation. Only to then engage in a similar conversation and another and another ad infinitum. If customer service isn’t a person’s “thing” I can respect that, but maybe in that case don’t go into customer service?


And in conclusion… Despite all my complaining I still love to fly. I’m STILL thrilled every time I pull down the window shade, pop my Ambien, recline the seat, and position my leopard-print eye pillow knowing that in sixteen hours I’ll land on the other side of the world. THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD. How fortunate I am to be living in an era where continent hopping is possible, and to possess the means to do so. Crappy peanuts, blasé service, and bulk lint? It could be worse. 

Thanks, BLAH Airlines, for taking from the place where I was to the place I am going. I know I will get there!


If you haven’t flown for awhile and have forgotten just how luxurious and sexy air travel can be, fly BLAH Airlines virtually here.

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