During my first semester of college I constantly talked about New York. I told everyone who would listen about my favorite Indian restaurant, about the Astroturf field behind my high school where we ate lunch (even on 20-degree days), about the East Village community garden where I wiled away hot summer afternoons.
Rain was good for Oxford. The endless grassy quads were at their most verdant, and students packed the local pubs to warm their fingers around mugs of hot mulled wine. When the sun came out one mid-afternoon, the wet paving stones glistened. Perfect English weather, I thought with relish when I stepped off the train and into the damp air.
A triumphant novillero, or novice bullfighter, raises his sword at the Plaza de Toros Oriente in San Miguel de Allende, Mexico. Spectators wave handkerchiefs to implore the judges to grant the young man, Hector de Avila of Tenancingo, a severed bull’s ear as a trophy.
Francisco Martinez salutes the crowd as he rides out of the bullring on the shoulders of another man. Judges award a bullfighter a salida en hombros (literally “exit on shoulders”) if he performs exceptionally well.