Bullfighting in Seville,

*** Warning, The following posts depicts bullfighting in graphic detail... it may be slightly gory, read at your own peril. ***

We walked directly to the bull fighting arena after my last post and since we arrived early we stopped by a lovely (if expensive) bar and got nice and drunk in preparation for our bloody adventure. Emily and I were both very excited about this, it is very difficult not to be... this is an area famous for bullfighting and it is represented EVERYWHERE! We found our seats (eventually) and sat down with Cerveza in hand marveling at the fantastic view we had of the entire arena... we would soon regret this.
It must be understood, that bullfighting is a process of many stages that pits Matador against bull in what is advertised as the ultimate test of Machismo.... we soon found however, that the Bull does not really have a fighting chance. This is not a single man vs. a large angry bull, stomping at the ground and such instead it is the sad tail of an exhausted and powerfull animal put out of its misery.
From the start, the bull charges out of the gates and only the bravest Matadors face it alone (to thunderous applause). More often, the Matadors hide behind wooden walls and taunt the charging bull back and forth across the arena, tiring it. Only when the Bull is panting and sweaty, does a Matador step out and seek to control the bull in the center. With the support of his friends, the Matador struts before the bull using the traditional flowing cape to taunt it into charging and further exhausting itself. Should the bull so much as look at the Matador instead of the Cape, others immediatly step in to steal its attention. While all this is happening, the horses have arrived... as if the fight were not already unfair enough.

The Matador, carefully, brings the bull under control where it is then taunted into charging a fully armored horse twice its size by the rider. The rider, holding a long wooden spear, uses the bulls own charge against him to drive a spike into the bull. Blood flows.
The crowd roars its pleasure as the symbol of Spain is speared 2 to 3 times by a man on an armored horse. Should the bull ever decide to change its mind, up to four Matadors surround it and instantly control the creature again with their flowing capes.

Soon, the horse retreats and the I start to see why the people of Spain love this animal, though not why they love hurting it, the bull is angry. Furiously stomping the ground, often charging the horse again and again in desire for revenge the bull is now difficult to control. Were I to be stabbed in the back, I imagine I would not find the strength and energy to furiously attack those around me. In due time, a series of Matadors keep the creatures attention long enough for the spearmen to come out. This is a simple, and decidedly dangerous time... the Bull must charge a man while he sidesteps, leaps, and plunges two ornate spears into the back of the creature, just above the front shoulders. This continues until between 6 to 8 spears stand out of the back of the bull, and finally... the bull is tired. It stands there, angry at the men around him, blood dripping down its heaving sides. The snorting and panting can be heard throughout the arena, as can the occasional painfull moo.

Finally, the Matador is 'brave' enough to stand with the bull alone. In the center of the arena, stands a creature with blood flowing freely from its wounds, and a Matador strutting. He is fresh, having not faced the animal yet.

The taunting continues, and the crowd cheers, again and again as the man stalks the beast. The Matador turning his back often on the creature that has to be screamed at before it even moves. An ornate series of simple charges and flourishing capes keeps the crowd entertained, until finally the Matador decides to release the beast. A sword is produced, easily 3 feet long with a wicked looking hook at the end. The bull, dazed and bloody, is forced to stare at the lightly moving cape at the Matadors feet. Then, in a flurry of movement the Matadors leaps and the bull charges... when all works well the sword is plunged through the back of the creature, and into the heart. The Bull, struggling, fighting to its last charges everything around it until finally dying at the foot of the man who killed it. He rejoices, he struts, he raises his fist in glory and the crowd loves him. I do not.

When things do not work as planned, as we experienced, the sword misses the heart and a creature who has been stabbed NINE! times at this point now has a 3 foot sword sticking through its back. The Matador must try again, only now blood does not simply flow... blood flies. Gore is everywhere as the internal bleeding of the creature finds an exit, with the second attempt to finish the Bull blood sprays furiously from its mouth. The walls of the arena are coated in it. The Matador is soaked with it. He is forced to leave in shame, for causing the creature to suffer and not offering it a clean death.

Only the Matadors who finish the creature with the First attempt, causing no undue pain to the ceremony of its death, are allowed to gloat. They walk around the arena, and are thrown flowers and hats. Cheers are abundant.

The highlight of the evening for both Emily and myself, is likely the two occasions of the 9 fights we witnessed where the bull was allowed to survive and exit the arena. Once because of a broken horn when the animal too aggressively charged a wall the proud Matadors were cowering behind and the other because of an injured leg due to over-passionate spearing.
On both occasions, Emily and I disregarded what likely happened to the bull out back and cheered for the creature. The crowd did not love us for it.

I appreciate spanish passion and machismo, but 20 men fighting one injured bull is not something to be proud of. The strutting and glorified Matador deserves the injuries often sustained in the sport, likely due to careless flaunting. It was an interesting evening, full of things we will likely never see elsewhere in our lifetime. I recommend it for everyone, form your own opinion.

As for me. I always root for the underdog. The valiant warrior heaving his last against all odds.

I cheer for the Bull.