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Traumatized Tears
Entry 73 of 80 | show all | print this entry |
In retrospect I would not have gone, even though it was my father's only request, I should have declined and sent him on his way, but what do you do when your traveling the world to experience different cultures and traditions, stay in?
Exiting Ventas metro stop in Madrid, you're blinded by the sun. While your eyes adjust to the light you see this massive brick arena with tiled details and a bullfighting statue in the front courtyard. Venders selling t-shirts, hats, drinks, snacks, surround the entrance. Being 3 hours early we purchased our 'up-close and personal' seats and went walking. Eventually finding a quick light dinner we made our way back to the arena and found our seats.
Smashed like sardines into the rows of cement block seating, I got out the camera and started taking photos. As the clock struck 20:30 hrs two horsemen came trotting out into the ring acknowledging the dignitaries in the nice velvet box seats. Then the matadors came walking out, dressed in skin-tight embroidered costumes, all different colors, with flapped hats and ballet slipper shoes. Grabbing their capes and finding the wooden barricade to stand behind, a man comes out with a sign showing a weight and number of the bull to arrive.
Out it comes, charging for the first cape he sees. The poor thing has no idea what it's in for... Hell neither did I! The matadors pop out from behind the barrier (cowards) and wave their yellow and pink capes at the bull attracting it this way and that. The main matador stands in the middle at times swirling in and out of the bulls' way with his cape. All seems well, until...
Out came the two horsemen, on blind folded horses I might add, with spears. At first I didn't realize their true roll in the event until I notice the bulls back covered in blood. They poke the bull, at least twice, in the neck with the spear to piss him off and to weaken his neck muscles. This was just the beginning; it wasn't getting any better.
Next came three matadors with 2 ft poles. Let me remind you that at this time I still wasn't grasping the whole thing, capes waving, crowd cheering, bull charging, but then I look again and the bull has 6 poles hanging from his back. Barbed poles that the matadors, oh so bravely (sarcastically I say this), plant into the bull back. How would you feel after being poked and then barbed? Now bleeding profusely all the matadors move to the side to draw the bull toward them while the main matador does some daring passes with the bull and his cape before sticking his long sword into the bulls neck, I guess aiming for the heart to kill it instantly, but of course these guys are still training and it takes them at least 2 go's before they succeed in killing this poor helpless creature.
Just writing this right now is making the knots in my stomach and nausea come back all over again. After the first killing 3 blindfolded horses are paraded out to drag the bull out of the ring and the man and his sign show's the weight of the next bull. How many are going to die this Sunday evening? I wasn't going to find out.
My dad looks over at me after the first bulls' sad death and I am crying. I feel bad asking him to leave and so he hands me his baseball cape and I put my head on his shoulder unable to watch any further. As the crowd cheers, I can only imagine what is happening next. Only 45mins in to this event and 2 bulls have died. I couldn't take it anymore and so we dragged ourselves out of the sardine can crowd to the exit where I stood there trying to get some fresh air, as not to puke all over the entrance of the arena.
Walking back through Retiro Park, I regained my stamina, still lingering over what I had just witnessed. I really can't say anything except that this was the worst cultural experience I have witnessed in my 9 months of travel. How this could be a sporting event is beyond me!
We ended this traumatizing evening with a beautiful stroll through the park and along the main city streets to get a glimpse of Madrid at night. This was a great way to calm myself down so I could sleep, although sleeping that night was not as easy as some might think.
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