A Bullfight in Madrid

On every traveler's "bucket list" of events to see, a bullfight is pretty high up there, and so I found myself sitting with thousands of people on a hot Sunday afternoon at the Plaza de Toros in Madrid.

However, as soon as I saw the thick red blood spewing from the bull's shoulders with the first cut of the lance, I was ready to bolt.

"Wait.  Just wait," my traveling companion urged.  "If you were a bull, wouldn't you want to go out in a blaze of glory rather than mass slaughter at an abattoir?"

I heard a thunder of "ole's."  This particular bull was a tough son-of-a-bitch, and he was going to give this appreciative crowd a good fight.  I sat back down.  After the initial goading was over, I started to enjoy the choreography danced by bull and matador--a beauty and the beast tango.  I did not understand the finesse needed to electrify the crowd.  Evidently, a skilled matador does not allow the cape to leave the ground.  When a bull charges, he remains poised and fearless.  He guides the bull; not the other way around.  The final thrust of the killing sword is the deal breaker.  In a perfect world, the matador will drive the sword over the horns, through the shoulder blades and into the bull's aorta, killing him instantly.  Unfortunately, it didn't happen this day, and his assistants had to come out and help.  The matador received an ear.  The highest prize is two ears and the tail.

To really understand the sport, I would have to go several more times, but I think once is enough.  Flamenco dancing, on the other hand, I could stomach again and again and again.