Disclaimer: I did not have my wonderful camera with me…the one that has video and gives me nice photos—this was a spontaneous trip (the best kind)—so I apologize for the crappy phone photos ahead of time.
So just moments after I got off the plane from Portugal and still at the airport, my friend Diego informs me he has a “superplan” for us that day…..but he wasn’t sure if it would be my “cup of tea” (his English is perfect and he knows more English slang than I do). He will explain the details over lunch….
A bullfight in his cousin’s town, about an hour and half outside of Madrid…..oye. I went to a bullfight in France several years ago and I remember strongly disliking it. But hey I’m still on spring break! And an authentic experience with the locals is what I thrive on…so why not? I’m always up for an adventure.
This small town is situated in Avila, which is stunning. Rocky mountains, streams, waterfalls, the greenery…wow. But this isn’t about nature right now….the bullfight.
So we get to the Plaza de Toro (arena/stadium) and there’s a bit of a what appears to me as a “tailgating” scene happening. Great. Sunshine, lots of people, so we have some cocktails outside in the crowd. So far so good. Then we go inside as it’s time to start.
Why this small town of 8,000 has so many attractive people living in it I have no idea. First I thought they were visitors from a big city….no, most of them are local. And many were here at the bullfight. As well as some famous bullfighter who was sitting near us with his very pretty trophy wife. I thought I was back in Beverly Hills.
So the first matador (bullfighter) comes into the arena on a horse. Beautiful….so graceful. I love horses. Oh right….the bull. And the whole killing thing that was about to happen…..so as it turns out, this first matador was the “worst” one (after sitting through this whole damn thing he did get the lowest score---if you can use the word “score?”—I’ll get back to that later). And he deserved it. And a smack in the face. And a kick in the ass. When he went in for the final kill, he positioned his sword incorrectly, because what happened next was one of the worse things I have ever seen. I felt like I was watching a horror movie. Oh the blood. Blood started gushing…GUSHING…out of the bull’s nose, spraying everywhere….in the air, all over the wall the bull was stumbling against. It was absolutely horrifying. I gasped and let out a small noise and looked away. I had my sunglasses on thank goodness, as I started to cry and had to do everything in my power not to completely break down. But I wanted to sob. As I was with Diego, Diego’s cousin, her husband, and a few more people…and as the “foreigner” these very nice people were quite attentive to my well-being….was I a having a good time, was I enjoying myself, etc….This was tricky. Those that know me well know that I have no problems voicing my opinion. What in the world do I say???? I don’t want to be disrespectful. But yet I want to be me. I was invited, they paid for my ticket (and these events aren’t cheap), and I don’t want to offend anyone. So I politely say, “It’s a very interesting experience, and I didn’t like the way the first bull was killed.” Translation (excuse my French): “I fucking hate this, I have to sit through the murder of 5 more fucking bulls!!?? I want to get the hell out of here, you people are all sick!” But alas, I refrained.
Thankfully the first killing was the worst. But that will be my last bullfight I ever attend. It was interesting. The way the judges decide on the matador’s performance….does he get one ear, two ears, two ears AND the tail?? Or nothing? The way the people stand up waving their white handkerchiefs in excitement after each fight, trying to convince the judges to give the matador at least one of the bull’s body parts. The beautiful clothing of each matador. I did see a famous one….Cayetano. His father was a famous bullfighter that died in a fight. And Cayetano also happens to be an Armani model. All of the women LOVE him. He’s handsome but I don't understand all of the hype…but I also haven’t seen him in his underwear….
Post bullfight. Now this made everything worthwhile! This UNDOUBTEDLY has been one of the best experiences I’ve had in Spain thus far. Boy do these small towns know how to party. We end up in the very old Spanish restaurant….pretty small place. Bull heads all over the walls (see above), and pictures of matadors and bullfights everywhere. NO I CAN’T ESCAPE IT! We order a couple of plates of food to share (I will forever live my life the Spanish way with tapas/pinchos/sharing of plates—frickin love it). The food was incredible! Fresh and delicious. Okay I can forgive the interior designer now. This small place was already fairly full of people, but as the night went on it became packed. The young hot people I saw earlier started coming in, the old people that were already there were still there, and then there was everyone in between. This was awesome to see. Such a mix of people in one place! So of course this made for very interesting conversation with the various people I talked to…in my poor Spanish. And as it got later, the music got louder. Until it was a full-on dance party. What??? Modern music, 22 year-olds dancing next to 82 year-olds….Where the hell am I???? Never have I seen or experienced anything like this…not to this degree. I danced my ass off. And had the time of my life. A big thank you to my friend Diego. Truly an experience that I will never forget.
But the thing is…..these damn bullfights are what create this kind of culture. The party. The whole small town coming together for a good time…..as you can imagine, this leaves me perplexed and confused. They need to modify these fights…..like not kill or torture these bulls. Why not leave it as an art…like it is the first 2 mins before they put any daggers into this poor animal (insert debate starting now with a Spanish person)? The way the matador moves with the bull and red blanket (whatever it’s called) is actually quite beautiful. So quit while you’re ahead! Leave it at that…..if Spain bans bullfighting (as Catalunya already has as of recently…but they’re not really Spain anyways) these kind of parties will also die out. Keep the bullfights just don’t kill the bulls. Easy. And the parties shall go on.....
