One interesting thing that happened over the holiday was that we went to a bullfight (or should I say bull massacre!) Lucy wasnt best pleased with this and our conversation went as follows:
Lucy: Where are you?
Me: At a bullfight
Lucy: Really thats cool, I'd love to go to a bullfight!
Me: Really? I thought youd be angry! Do you know what bullfighting is? Anyway gotta go.
10 mins later via text after dicussing bullfights with our housemate Jim: You're Sick
Seriously though you have to have a strong constitution to go to a bull fight as well as a lack of morals. As far as I can tell this is how it goes:
- The bull runs into the arena a bit dizzy and drugged up and runs into a few barriers while trying to gore some matadors
- The bull gets tired and the bring out some horses with riders with spears
- The bull tries to gore aforementioned horses and fails (as they have armour on and a guy is stabbing them with a spear)
- the main matador then comes on and the knacked bull ambles round while the matador sweeps his red cape over the bull to much cheering.
- The matador brings out his knives and stabs the bull in the back as it trundles past slowly
- The matador brings out his sword, the aim of the matador is to stab the sword through the bulls back and spine and into its heart swiftly. This is apparently the macho part
- In four out of five fights the matador completely misses and his assistanta come out and have to repeatedly stab the dying bull in the kneck as it flails around
- the bull gets butchered in the entrance to the stadium!
Anyhow we were very close to walking out and I have to say I was fairly close to being sick. I am one for experiencing different cultures, but it is very difficult to see how this is macho in any way. I think we were the only ones yelling "come on the bull!" and hoping the matador would be the one that was gored!
Oh and ps, the pink frilly oufits do nothing for the matador's image!
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3 comments:
Your brother sent me over too. He said you'd take us all to Australia with you.
I was in Spain once living with this rich family in Madrid. I told them I wanted to see a bullfight and they basically said, "Our kind doesn't go to bullfights." So I never went.
Well there you go. I suppose it was an experience but I'd hate it.
Basically it appeared to be only old people and toursits, which kind of makes you feel more guilty, because without the tourists would they actually be doing it?
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