Some love it, some hate it.

         This past weekend I traveled to Madrid Spain, initially I had planned on seeing the cliche tourist attractions such as the Retiro Park, The Prado Museum, Rastro Markets, and Plaza Mayor.  The rain dampened our day plans to visit the Retiro Park but I can’t complain because we ended up viewing The Royal Palace and eating delicious chocolate churros, which I definitely recommend trying! Soon after we headed to an appetizing Tapas bar and stumbled outside The Plaza de Toros de Las Ventas.  Naturally I stopped to admire the beautiful architecture and learn some knowledge about what was inside.  The Plaza de Toros de Las Ventas is the pinnacle of one of Spains oldest traditions, bullfighting.  I had heard about bullfights but this show was definitely not what I expected.  Yes, the art of show was beautiful and burst with unique talent but it can basically be depicted as a dance with death. 

        

        The huge arena was decorated with multiple Spanish flags while the crowd discreetly sipped their alcohol covered with brown bags.  The drunken old man next to me stated the stadium holds 23,000 people, I was surprised because it didn’t even seem half way full.  Maybe because it was a Sunday evening or possibly bullfighting isn’t as a popular amongst the Spaniards any longer, I’m not entirely sure. Nonetheless, the large amount of enthusiasm from the small crowd had me eager to see what was next. The start of the performance began with the Matadors and their assistants entering the bullring, each parading in front of the cheering crowd. Later I learned the Matador is the name of the person who kills the bull at the end and the assistants seem to ease the bull when the tension increases between the Matador and the bull.  The assistants surprisingly held a pink blanket called a muleta and Matador’s was a typical red color.  The performers wore Spanish outfits that looked to be dated from the 1700’s; the colors were bright and the material seemed to be a shiny silk texture. I really enjoyed the traditional outfits because I felt as if  I had travelled back in time and was alive when bullfighting originated. 

To begin the bull fighting show the two assistants  angering the bull and stabbing spears into the bull’s upper back.  The fur turned red as the bull aggressively trotted about, I was a bit grossed out from this image along with some noble character in the audience; he yelled something in Spanish in disagreement towards the animal cruelty but the crowd just shook it off and laughed.  After about ten minutes of testing the bull’s temper, loud trumpets echoed throughout the stadium introducing the Matador as he entered the applauding venue with his sword in his right hand.  His style was very regal as he walked with his chest high in the air and on his tip-toes disregarding the fact that one wrong move and he could be pierced into the bull’s horns.  The Matador continued to prove his bravery and artistry, the sense of fear never seemed apparent while he danced with the bull.  At times people chanted finish him off in Spanish but the Matador continued to gracefully sway the muleta, teasing bull with the distance of foot between; to me the concept was to make the dance pleasurable and dramatic for the audience.   And indeed it was, the thrill  was especially powerful when the Matador sprinted for protection behind the walls.  Finally after much sensed anticipation from the crowd, the Matador stabbed the bull; I'm guilty of shedding a tear as the bull’s feet whimpered in the air.  And the show didn't stop yet, a blind folded horse galloped into the arena and dragged the dead bull out of the stadium, leaving behind a trail of red blood in the dirt.  There were about 3 more bulls waiting to enter the stadium, but I only managed to stay to watch one more entrance from the second bull but left before the brutal killing.  I did embrace much of the Spanish culture but I am still completely disgusted with this form of entertainment.  Although I do agree it was an interesting experience, but only something I can witness ONCE.

Kimberly Novak 

UCSC