We chose the least expensive seats, so of course, they were at the top. We complained about all the steps, but once at the top, we decided the view was well worth it.
" We waited for an hour while the crowd filed in, listening to the vendors yelling, "Chapeaus", "Boisson Fresh", and "shoo shoo", whatever that is!
The pomp and circumstance started as soon as the arena was filled. Matadors, roman soldiers with huge feathers sticking out of their helmets, and armored horses all marched out in a parade, then took their places behind the perimeter wall.
Then silence, the drum roll, then they let the first bull out. He was mad from the start. A group of bullfighters with pink capes taunted him. In an arena that large, we could hear each bullfighter's "heeeeey" to the bull. He would run at them, under their cape, then to the next. At times, another bullfighter would run at the bull with no cape, but with two spears, one in each hand. The bull in response, would run full speed at him. The bullfighter would then spear the bull in the back and quickly run away.
After several moments of this, the "head matador" (I'm not familiar with bullfighting terms) came out to great cheering. The other bullfighters moved aside, and the Matador tipped his hat to the crowd in all directions. He dramatically tossed the hat behind him and headed straight for the bull. Dead silence. Exhibiting great showmanship with his red cape, he called in a deep growly voice, "Hey, hey". As the bull, growing madder and madder, ran under his cape, the crowd would yell in unison, "Ole'!" Then silence again out of respect for the Matador.
As the show went on, the Matador would walk with his back to the bull, showing his bravery. When the bull got close, he would stretch and bend over allowing the cape to take the bull.
The first Matador made an error in judgement and the bull got his horns stuck into the Matador's leg and threw him into the air, then to the ground. The Matador lost his cape and a shoe. All the other bullfighters came to his rescue, distracting the bull. When the injured Matador regained his composure, he came back into the arena, the crowd cheered, happy that the bull hadn't won.
He soon put the bull out of his misery (details too disturbing for this blog) to the great delight of the crowd. Two horses were let into the arena to drag the bull out.
There were two more fights, but we had had seen enough and chose to make out way down through the crowd of 15,000. It was a unique experience, but sad and disturbing. I will never see another bullfight, and that is okay by me.
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