Gladiators, Matadors and Moores

Day 7

Seeing Red: Matadors were the rock stars of Spain, but their Ted Nugent levels of testosterone and taunting turned me off.

The bullmeat was given to needy townsfolk after the bludgeoning, but I was still glad to see it was off-season by the time we got there.

Moore is More: Tile, tile everywhere and not one kitchen sink…but Alcazar had plenty of other water works, including interior pools, fountains and a self-contained aqueduct.

This never-ending Moorish Palace, ahead of its time and covered head to toe in tile, scattered its walkways with ceramic breadcrumbs so that we could find our way back after traversing the massive property (we actually lost Mom at one point).

Ruined it: I’ve gotta crow…like Russell. Transforming into a gladiator and kid all at once, I rushed onto the arena's dirt floor where battles were waged for entertainment – the original UFC.

It was a 30 minute bus-ride to the Roman Ruins and if you’ve ever visited The Coliseum and wanted to get in on the ground floor, this was your chance. We walked above animal pits and within the walls where the gladiators would wait…or hide.

Cypress trees and remnants of this mini-Roman society (house foundations, etc.) cloaked these Spanish outskirts in seasoned, Italian dressing.