Bullfights

  Zaragoza, Spain
Monday, April 12, 1999

Wow! Here I am at the bullfights. Just wandering around Zaragoza I thought I'd have a look at the Plaza del Tores, just on the off chance it might be open. Not only was it open but the activities were not far away from starting.

It is housed in a ring about 50m in diameter floored with sand and two concentric painted white circles about 35m diameter and 30m diameter. All around the ring are seats in 3 tiers. The bottom one (where I am seated) is about 21 rows of concrete seats, the second tier is possible wood but is definitely grander and consists of four rows; the third and highest tier is also four rows.

Probably, all in all, the stadium would hold around 8000 people, at a conservative guess and is probably three-quarters full. It all looks very old and ceremonial with the only concession to technology being two LCD screens across which details of the fight (the fighters, the bulls and the composer of the music being played by the band) scroll. Covering the whole stadium is an elaborate canvas roofing with lighting and loudspeakers jacked up. The natural lighting (it is 4.45pm) which is allowed through gives the whole arena an almost eerie, dusky glow. The atmosphere is fantastic - all around me men in their suits and berets are smoking pungent cigars and greeting each other with kisses on both cheeks. The women are very stylishly dressed. Everyone seems to know each other - it appears to be the social occasion of the week. The TV cameras are here. Notable though is the lack of children in the arena - a pleasant surprise. This appears to be the upmarket cousin of futbol. In the top tier, directly above where the honoured guests sit, I can see and hear an orchestra warming up. I am tempted to use my sweatshirt as a cushion to protect against the hard concrete, but am afraid my tatty t-shirt may be a little too lowbrow for the occasion. As it is I am probably the most under-dressed person here.

Suddenly the orchestra starts to play - triumphant marching music. While the crowd continues to talk the lights are dimmed and two men in black with orange plumed caps trot in in unison on horseback, followed by what I imagine is the entire cast, to applause. The lights are put back on and all the performers, about 30 in all, walk around the arena and then trot off again. There are now three men in the ring, all with bright pink 'rags'. A bull is released and comes charging towards one man who hides behind his barrier and this happens a few times. One man enters the centre and casually teases the bull by moving his flag just as the bull bucks at it, to applause and cries of 'Olé!' Another guy does the same and another, confusing the animal as to which man he should chase.

A blindfolded horse enters also, ridden by another fancily dressed chap. The bull charges the horse, which is protected with a really big chain mail saddle while the rider pokes the bull in the back of the neck with a spear. The bull is now wounded. The man on the horse taunts the bull, who charges and is again stabbed.1 In agony now he falls over. Bleeding severely, the bull stands in the ring alone as the men disappear. Thousands of people watch and jeer at the poor beast who must be, to put it mildly, rather scared. Five cows are released into the ring and then led out again. The bull goes out too, to mild applause, because he is too injured to continue. Men come in to scoop up the bits of sand with bull blood on them. The skill for the guys with the pink flags is in how little they move to avoid the bull and how they maintain their poise.



Another bull, this one more energetic, is let in. The whole horse business is repeated but with two horses this time. This time the bull, sensibly, won't attack the man on the horse at first but he is tempted and taunted and eventually he does attack and is inevitably stabbed. He again refuses to charge, to the whistles of the crowd, so a flag guy is again required to provoke the animal. It works. A man without a flag runs up and pokes to brightly decorated sticks into the bull, to applause, then two more, then two more. The orchestra plays "ta-da" music such as you might hear upon completion of a magic trick.

Blood is now pouring out of the wound but the bull cannot resist charging again - must be some sort of pride thing. A new guy, very cool and better dressed but with only a red rag, taunts the bull to strong applause. He is, I think, a more important guy. He is very macho and arrogant and shouts at the bull. He gets very close without being touched. A rhythmic clap and the orchestra starts up as the tension rises. The guy draws his thin sword from behind his flag and with a cry stabs it into the same place as everyone else has already. The poor bull is now staggering around with three or four coloured spears and one great big sword embedded in his back. Not content with this, the guy then walks right up to the bull and stabs it right in the head, killing it. Perversely, the bull is then dragged around the ring by four horses, to the whistles of the crowd.

"Lucerillo" is the next bull, 477kgs according to the big screen, and the lidiador - whatever that means - is Jose Castilla. The whole process is repeated on Lucerillo. One for the bull as he speared the macho guy in the backside. Hooray! However, Jose, tames the beast and turns his back with arrogant disdain, knowing somehow the bull won't chase him. The bull just sits there even though he has a stationary target who isn't even watching him. Jose then stabs the bull but loses his rag (so to speak) in the ensuing fracas as the bull tries desperately to butt him in revenge. This is a bad mark against Jose I think.

Once Lucerillo is dead, the horses come in to drag him away, but they refuse to cooperate and instead charge around the ring with their handlers unable to hook the bull up, much to the amusement of the crowd. Then one horse breaks free from the others and all hell breaks loose. After about five minutes of this, the two remaining horses are finally hooked up to the bull and normal business is resumed.

"Ayamonte" was next, a mere weakling at 441kg but he put up a good fight. For some reason the killer-guy took an inordinately long time to deliver the killer blow, whether this was on purpose or not I don't know. Even then Ayamonte rose again and again, defying death. The crowd was cheering (probably for the bull) and jeering (probably at the guy for not doing his job properly). Full credit Ayamonte.

The next two bulls come and go but seem to be getting bigger and stronger. A lighter moment occurs when one of the bulls gets his horns stuck in the ground, making it do a kind of headstand for a second or two. I find myself shouting "come on the bull!" as he pushed the horse (with rider) up against the railing. Nevertheless, hopelessly outnumbered, even this courageous beast creature finds the odds too great. It must be said that the bulls are not very smart, only chasing the flag rather than the guy, even when the chap has his back turned. For one bull the entire crowd spontaneously broke into a very complicated clapping routine that they all seemed to know.

I think I got quite a good seat as most of the action seems to happen right in front of me. I chose ones that were near the higher prices range (there are about 15 price options, from 800ptas to about 29000ptas and mine cost 2100pta, or about NZ$25). A guy in the crowd started jumping up and down, causing one of the bulls to try to charge him. The bulls do actually paw the ground before they charge, which is very dramatic. Obviously the skill for the matadors etc is in evading the bull as efficiently and nonchalantly as possible, but you do have to wonder about the intelligence of the foe and whether the contest is a fair one that justifies the cruelty of it. I'm no great animal lover, but it does seem a bit excessive, considering they murder around six or seven bulls each time and, obviously, the bull has no say in it and no chance of winning. But who am I to question a part of Spanish culture that has existed for hundreds, if not thousands, of years.

It's now 7.35, over two hours since we started and many of the crowd are starting to leave. It's all a bit repetitive with no change in routine to break up the action. And finally it's over. A great experience for me and a memory that I'll keep for a long time. If this is what the bullfights are like in Zaragoza, a middling city of c.500,000 people, it must be amazing somewhere like Barcelona or Madrid.