The sun breaks through and I begin to sweat. It's hot. I keep looking at the map, trying to estimate how long before we get there. There are no sights along the way, but the city is smaller than it seems. Before I know it I can see the top edge of the bullring through the trees.
We walk through the main gate, uncertain of which way to go. A man with a mustache leans back, his chair rests against the wall. His eyes are closed.