Honeymoon- Day 12 (5/1/2011)

After a night of champagne and strawberries, we got off to a slow start.  The buffet at the hotel was delicious, with a broad range of choices including fruits, cereals, eggs, pastries, breads, meat and, of course, cheeses.  When we finally rolled out onto the street, we headed toward Plaza de Santa Barbara.  It is quite different than the Santa Barbara I know, but there was a Cerveceria, so not entirely different.  We strolled the streets of the neighborhood, taking it all in.  It was in this stroll that we stumbled upon a building that reminded me of something Willie Wonka would use.  The outside of the building was like a sculpture.  Three-dimentional flowers and vines were all over the building.  It was almost like a Gaudi creation, but less dark.  We have no clue what the building was used for, but it was a fun little discovery, nonetheless.

We wandered to Iglesia Santa Barbara, a lovely, Gothic church, the interior of which was said to be elaborate.  One of the kings is buried there, as well as other famous people, but as soon as we entered, my gall bladder wanted to leave.  Maybe it was because we inadvertently entered during mass and the gall bladder wanted to be more respectful.  Maybe the gall bladder thought you all had read enough about Gothic churches.  Or maybe, just maybe, it was the plate of cheese in the breakfast buffet without the buffer of an enzyme.  Who can know for sure?  Whatever the reason, it necessitated a return to the hotel and an afternoon rest, that Tony took advantage of too.

By late afternoon, we were up and ready to go.  When Tony went to the room to get his hat, I took the opportunity to thank the man at the front desk for the sparkling surprise in our room the night before.  He then asked me if I would like to see a bull fight, free of charge.  I had not intended on seeing a bull fight.  In fact, I had heard they were only for tourists and expected them to be gory.  But, I was tempted by "free" and had seen several local places where people appeared to be genuine bull fighting fans.  Tony was game and I tagged along and we were off to our first (and last) bull fight.

The Plaza de Toros was this impressive building with a bit of a moorish look to it.  The area where the bull fight was was alive with vendors and afficionados (and tourists).  After an early dinner of tapas, we headed in.  The seats were all concrete (maybe granite).  There was a threat of rain, but when we sat there, the sun was shining and it actually was quite warm. 

The festivities began at 6:30 with a parade of matadors (and other people who torture/taunt the bulls), galliant looking men on horses, reams of mules and a great number of people dressed in simple uniforms.  The band played a little bit of music and then they all left except some of the matadors, which, I soon learned, were actually more like rodeo clowns.  Their job was to distract the bull and possibly tire him out a bit.  Then, a man in a black hat and blue shirt came in, to a different tune played by the band.  He stood kind of grandly near the edge of the ring until all attention was on him.  He left and then the gates were opened and the bull came in.  (Warning:  From, this point forward, I am going to tell you what a real bull fight is like.  It is not for the faint of heart.)


The bull ran and lunged at the rodeo clown matadors until the men on horseback came.  The horses were wearing some kind of full body decoration, which I later learned was armor.  The rodeo clowns lure the bull near the horses and the bull charges the horses.  The men on horses, stab the bull in the back with long spears.  It seems like an unfair fight and, while it is obvious the bull is the loser, the horses are also getting a pretty bum deal.  While the armor appears to protect them from the horns, there is still the whole matter of the full weight of a charging bull pressing against them. 

The spear-holding men on horseback leave to the band and then these other lavishly dressed men come in, also to the band.  The new entrants' job is to stick ruffle-y spears into the bull's back, two at a time, while the bull is charging.  Sometimes they were successful, sometimes they weren't.  After three go-rounds of this, they leave, and the matador enters with band accompaniment.  The matador makes some kind of gracious display toward the stands and prances into the center of the ring.  With great dramatics, he places his little black hat on the ground and prepares to dance with the, at this point bloody and fairly wounded, bull.  This is where you see the red cape and elaborate passes with the bull. 

The first fight we watched, the matador got a little too close and the bull knocked him over, continuing to charge.  The matador wasn't injured, though and he got right back up to continue the fight.  (I struggle with the word "fight," since one side is severely disadvantaged at this point.)  Eventually, the matador brings out a sword and stabs the bull, once or twice, until the bull falls to its knees and dies.  If it doesn't die, they kill it right there.  Then, the team of mules, adorned with flowers on their harness, come in and the uniformed men hook the dead bull to the apparatus.  The mules drag the bull out while another team of uniformed men clean up the bloody spots. 

I had gone trying to take in the cultural aspect of the bull fight and, had I watched this happen just once, I probably could have walked away feeling like I had just been on a cultural adventure.  After all, we had the loudest heckler in the whole ring sitting behind us, smoking cigars and shouting things in Spanish like, "Don't let him do that, he's an invalid!" and "Kill him!"  There were witty insults too that I could not translate, but the Spaniards in front of us chuckled.  It was gruesome, but oddly interesting, the first time.  Tony and I had enough by the 5th fight and left before it began.  It is very bloody and, frankly, violent; you just can't help but feel at least a little bad for the bulls.  I had to go somewhere or do something just to get the images out of my head.

 We walked Madrid's equivalent of New York's Upper East side, complete with high end shops, chic cafes, manicured small dogs and spoiled children.  It was a very active neighborhood and we enjoyed peeking in the little shops.  Much of the commerce was closed, though, either because it was Sunday evening, or because it was the equivalent of the Spanish Memorial Day.  A quick ride on the Metro took us back to our hotel, where our Crianza awaited.  It was a pleasant end to an interesting day.