And thats A load of Bull!

instead of sullying your judgment with my views just yet I will try and present an unbiased description of what happened next.

It was early evening when the girls and I returned to La Rambla to meet up with Danielle, Ari and a few others from their hostel. With anticipation and to a certain degree trepidation, our big group pushed its way through the crowds to the nearest subway.

On the train I was chatting to a lady who’d come to visit her daughter on the Spanish leg of her European tour when she asked me where I was originally from.

“India,” I answered.

“Whereabouts?”

“Chennai.”

“Oh really?” She looked at me with a wistful expression. “You wouldn’t know anyone called Fabian Mendez would you?”

“No,” I answered. “I reckon Mendez sounds more Spanish than Indian, don’t you?”

“How about Salmon?”

A knot of excitement began churning in my stomach. “Yeah, my uncle’s family name is Salmon.”

“Do you know Olivia Salmon then?”

“You’re joking right?”

“No, she’s a friend of mine.”

“My God! Olive married my Dad’s brother, Cyrus. It’s actually Olivia Assey now.”

The two of us were instantly reduced to yelps of excitement. By the time we’d settled down and exchanged email addresses the train was pulling into Monumental Station and we had to say our goodbyes.

It was a short walk to the only active bullring in Barcelona, but when we’d reached our seats my excitement had been diluted with apprehension. I’d seen pictures of bullfights and heard the stories, which ranged from the exciting to the macabre, so I didn’t know what to expect or how I’d handle it.