Anyway, the gothic movement that is synonymous with Spain's love of blood is one of the few French imports, and when in doubt, just bash the French.
It's easy for a foreigner to dislike bullfighting, but in the end it is a distinct and wildly loved tradition, and after all, what did I know? For that, I admired bullfighting. Nevertheless, If I ever did come across a bullfight, I would probably find justice in the goring of the matador.
Love of blood, like love of bullfighting, is Spanish: the bloody rabbits in the grocery store, the blood of the dying bulls back, the bloody pictures of the Holy Roman Emperor with a crown of thorns, Sangrìa - the blood-colored drink. Blood sausages.
Blood is Spanish, and when Lily compared the Anne Rice screenplay, Interview with a Vampire to Eva from Mallorca, it all seemed to make sense: romantic nocturnal creatures, in love with the high culture, the darkness, the kill, the party. The cafe was small, rows of garlic and catholic crosses hung from the wall. We drank Pacharon, a red anisette brandy made a few miles down the road, and also red freshwater crawfish, strong coffees, and olives too. And then, after some more coffee, and a red wine or too, we were off, in the air and back to Los Angeles.
