Bull fight weekend

This afternoon, I walked again along the promenade as far as Castello Sohail, and up the river park with the express intention of taking another look at the turtles in their murky water, no far from the huge Miramar shopping mall, with go-karting and a cinema on the roof, and two storeys of retail and restaurants. As there'd been rain in the night and morning, the mall was very crowded with families. The beaches were quite deserted.

This time, standing on the same bridge, I counted nine different creatures. One of them was out of the water, basking on a rock, looking handsome and exotic. I have yet to find out anything about whether this local colony is a survival from a different era, or an import into a re-created environment.

On the return journey, I passed the bull-ring. The street outside was closed to traffic and several horse boxes were parked in the open road. 

People were queuing for admission to an evening of equestrian spectacle and flamenco dancing, a pre-cursor to tomorrow evening's bullfight. I felt no inclination to attend either event. In fact, tonight I need to get to bed early and rise early for an additional duty at the beginning of the day.

Right next to the Plaza del Toro is one of the town's cofradia houses, with its own ancilliary building housing historical archives, very much an indication of the value given to its activities.

Its doors were open, inviting passers by to take a look inside at the images carried in procession - Christ crucified and buried, and our Lady of Sorrows, in a large chapel-like room.

Just five minutes earlier, in a back street, I passed two badge toting Mormon missionary males with a young man in tow, dressed more like a holiday-maker or a local. Despite the strength of traditional Catholic piety, the supermarket of religions is as much a feature of life in contemporary Spain as it is anywhere else in western Europe.