During our Saturday afternoon at Rota Feria, Meghan mentioned to Katie and I that she would be going to a bullfight with some of our Spanish friends, Gonzalo & Ignacio, whom we went to the Spain vs. Scotland soccer game in Sevilla with this past October. Needing a little prodding, Katie and I decided to take part in this Spanish cultural event, and we also coaxed our friends Aidan & RJ to tag along with us.
**Warning: it was bloody and the bulls died. We didn't photograph the worst of it, but I do describe the general procession of a bullfight. We also hated it all and wouldn't do it again. If you choose to keep reading, know we end this blog post by saying we hated this experience and we would tell anyone visiting Spain to skip this "cultural event." This blog is meant to educate and share what we learned- we don't condone this custom.
So here we go!
Friday, May 10
On Friday afternoon, Katie donned her traditional flamenco dress and we headed to Jerez for the bullfight and for a night at the Jerez Feria.
Plaza Mamelon: Plaza del Mamelón
We got to Jerez well before the 7:00 pm start time, so we parked in an underground lot in Plaza Mamelon and grabbed a few pictures at the Jerez sign with a beautiful cloudy sky. Before heading to the bullfighting ring, we stopped at O'Donoghue's Irish Pub for a quick pint.
Jerez Bullring: Plaza de Toros de Jerez
Right before 7:00 pm, Katie, Aidan, RJ, Meghan and I headed to the Jerez Bullfighting Ring to meet with Ignacio & Gonzalo. The crowds were packed with locals dressed in Feria attire and formal wear for a night at the bullring.
Bullfighting has been a significant cultural event for the Spanish people since the medieval period when bullfighters would fight on horseback. The introduction of fighting bulls on foot is believed to have begun in the early-to-mid 1700s in Ronda, Spain, about a two-hour drive from our home!
After fighting a killer crowd and climbing to the top row in the highest section of the stands, we finally made it to our seat; this place was totally packed, which wasn't great for our 6'7" friend, RJ.
As we mentioned earlier, the bulls all die...just a heads up. Katie and I were aware of this going into the fights but figured this was a major Spanish sport we should experience once during our time here. Looking back on it, it was just as awful as Katie expected and we would never suggest this experience to anyone visiting Spain.
A little backstory: in the Spanish version of a bullfight, the matador is accompanied by an entourage of six people: two picadores on horseback, three banderilleros (extra bullfighters with magenta & gold capes), and a mozos de espadas (sword page).
In the first round of the bullfight, known as the tercio de varas (the lancing third), the matador and banderilleros will antagonize the bull with their magenta and gold capes, attempting to learn his behavior and quirks.
After a few minutes, two picadores on horseback arrive in the ring. The picadores use a large spear to stab the bull in the back of the neck, causing significant injury to its neck muscles & limiting the bull's ability to turn its head. In reaction, the bull attacks the blindfolded horse; fortunately, the horse is well protected by its armor. The matador will observe how the bull attacks the horse to determine which of its horns it likes to use and how it chooses to charge.
Katie didn't take any photos of this part of the bullfight. It's not really fair, considering the bull doesn't see it coming. We did catch ourselves holding our breath as the bull attacked the armored horse though, out of fear that the bull would knock the horse off balance and harm him. This didn't happen, but it is a rare occurrence in bullfights.
In the second round, known as tercio de banderillos (third of banderillos), each of the banderilleros (pink cape guys) will attempt to stab two large barbed sticks into the back of the bull. This will further antagonize the bull while also "decorating" the bull for the main matador's performance.
The barbs are colored to represent the home country of the matador and his team. The first and third matadors at this event were both from Andalucia, Spain, so their barbs were red and yellow, for the Spanish flag, and green and white, to represent their connection to the Southern Spain region we live in: Andalucia. The second matador was from Peru but had a multi-national entourage, so he used white barbs during his fight.
The third and final round, known as tercio de muerte (third of death), the matador enters the ring solo with a small red cape known as a muleta and a sword. A common misconception is that the red color of the muleta is what agitates the bull, but bulls are color-blind; it is the movement of the muleta that makes him charge.
The matador will cause the bull to charge in a series of rhythmic passes known as the faena; the matador will attempt to have the bull pass as close to his body as possible to excite and engage the crowd. After tiring out the bull, the matador will plunge his sword just behind the head of the bull, hoping to penetrate the heart or the aorta, causing a swift death for the bull.
Following the bull's death, the judge will award up to three white flags, based on the matador and his entourage's skill and cleanliness of the bull's death; the crowd also plays a role by whistling and waving white handkerchiefs, insisting on the number of flags the matador deserves.
Following the awarding of flags, the matador will parade around the ring, with people throwing their hats and flowers at the matador and his entourage. The bull's body is hauled out of the ring by 4 horses.
Now that you know a little bit about the "art of bullfighting," I can share my thoughts on our experience; it was horrible. The first fight was relatively swift and the bull went down quickly after the "killing blow." Katie and I were thinking, okay, that wasn't awesome and the tight ball in the pit of our stomach is telling us how wrong this all is, but at least it was a quick death.
The second fight, a bit of the same, this bull was brown so we saw a little bit more blood on his hide throughout the fight, but again, it was a fairly swift kill. It's not great seeing an innocent animal die for sport and get dragged out by horses, but whatever, it's a cultural thing.
The third fight was absolutely horrific. After the killing blow, the bull did not go down quickly, but rather suffered for what felt like hours (it was only about 1.5 minutes). The crowd watched on, as the bull stayed on his feet after the matador clearly missed the heart or aorta and instead hit the lung; I'll spare you the gruesome details, but it was so bad that Katie couldn't even watch.
This was the point where we learned we were only halfway through the bullfight. Each madator had another chance in the ring with a new bull. The knot in Katie's stomach was in full swing at this point. If the crowds hadn't been packed in so tight without any exit path available, we would have left.
The fourth fight was relatively uneventful, but the fifth fight had a little bit of excitement as the (Peruvian) matador was knocked to the ground by the bull. The entire arena gasped and time seemed to slow as we watched the matador flip over backwards and hit the ground. His banderilleros came out to his aid almost immediately, drawing the attention of the bull away from the grounded matador, who also lost a shoe in the process. The matador kicked off his other shoe and continued with the fight, killing the bull rather swiftly and earning himself a loud applause from the crown, and two flags to boot.
The sixth, and last, fight was again horrific; the same Spanish matador from the third round struggled to kill his bull, again causing it to suffer before finally dying. It's all over. Finally.
This was Katie and I's first time seeing an animal die for sport; neither of us hunt, so witnessing this event was difficult for us to stomach. Katie says this experience was terrible. She originally rated it a 4/10 (4 points just for it being a cultural experience and being surrounded by locals for the 3-hour event) but by the time we got home, those points were gone and she cried in the shower thinking back on our night at the ring.
Neither of us are PETA people, but this definitely did not sit well with us. After the fight, Katie asked Ignacio and Gonzalo a ton of questions. Some things we learned from them:
They don't eat the bulls that are killed. They are bred for muscle and weight- thus not good meat. (A Spanish lady I work with said they are eaten, so we aren't sure which is true...) Google says the meat is sold, some say it's given to the poor..so we aren't completely sure.
Bulls raised for fighting live three times longer than cattle reared exclusively for meat. They also live wild in open meadows and forests which the bullfight's box office funds. So they suffer for roughly 30 minutes but live a pretty lavish lifestyle compared to cattle raised for meat. (I don't know if that makes it better or makes me look at things from a more PETA perspective on animal rights, in general.)
Bulls can be saved during a bullfight. Sometimes, if the bull performs particularly well and the breeder agrees to take the bull back, the event's president can grant an indulto, or pardon. The bull returns to the wide open fields to heal and live out its life breeding future bulls. A dentist I work with at the hospital witnessed this happen during a bullfight in Puerto.
This sport originated in Spain, but has expanded across Central and South America, France, and Portugal. Bullfighting morphed in the United States into what we know as rodeos. At least in the States, we ride the bulls instead of killing them.
Matadors are local celebrities. Gonzalo actually went to high school with the son of a famous matador, Juan José Padilla, who lost an eye and half of his hearing to a bullhorn in the ring. He wears an eyepatch still to this day. (Apparently, you can see that fight on Youtube. We just took Gonzalo at his word.)
The two other bullfighters we saw today were Pablo Aguado, from Sevilla, and Alejandro Talavante, from a small town on the border of Portugal.
The second matador we saw today was Andrés Roca Rey from Peru. He is considered the best Matador in the world right now. Seeing him flipped by a bull reminded us of the dangers of this sport.
We were sure to snap a few pictures of the ring just for proof that we did attend, but we would NEVER encourage anyone to go.
Real de la Feria del Caballo
Following the bullfight, our group headed to the Jerez Feria to check out the festivities. This Feria was significantly larger than Rota's Feria, with tons of casetas and huge lit-up arches.
After the traumatizing event we just endured, none of us really had anything left in our social or emotional batteries, so after snapping some pictures, we made the long, quiet walk back to the car.
After the 25-minute drive back home, and struggling to cope with what we witnessed, Katie and I both decided that we will never attend another bullfight. I can honestly say, I support all of the backlash that this Spanish sport has received. The bulls are stabbed and killed for sport while surrounded by a cheering crowd. It took us a few days to even go through the photos we took at the event. Just take our word for it: skip this Spanish custom.
¡Salud!
Bryan
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