Barcelona Bullfight. Mixed Emotions.

Outside, there were anti-bullfighting supporters out side the plaza holding signs and blowing whistles. Inside, the plaza was rather empty.The atmosphere was the opposite. It was new and mysterious, but it had a sense of pride and tradition. My anticipation of greatness and my excitement of what was about to happen gradually faded as the first fight continued. We watched 6 bullfights; in other words, we watched 6 bulls die. Not exactly the most exciting or innocent thing to watch, and we quickly found ourselves hoping the bulls would somehow get the matadors. It wasn´t until the fourth fight, that we witnessed just that. The matador was hit, snagged, thrown into the air, dangled from the bull´s horn, gored in the buttocks, and pinned to the ground before others could help to get the bull away from him. It was awesome!...but then the injured matador returned and killed it. Dang! The bulls really have no chance of survival, which is why, in my mind, bullfighting is more of an art than a sport. As we watched each fight, we picked up on the process, as well as the techniques and skills of the matadors. The failures/mistakes are marked by whistling from the crowd and the successes by applause. Overall it was very interesting and a great experience, one that I don´t think I´ll need to see again, but nevertheless it was a look into a different culture. I´m still not sure what I think of the whole thing; I´m not totally against it, but I´m definitely not sold on it.

One thing led to another...

That was a Brian Regan reference... here are the middle stages:

After some dude on a horse stabs it with a
long spear, some other dudes run by and
put those red & white things in its back

The dude with the red thing (el matador)
just stabbed the bull with a sword
(through the shoulder blades and into its heart)

Off to the butcher
(this happens right away and then the meat is sold
 in the local markets, which was nice to hear)