Temporada Taurina

This post is dedicated to my Uncle Roger:

I finally attended a bullfight. For years I have yearned to sit around the wooden walled ring and peer down over at the glory and honor earned and displayed. In high school I accompanied my cousin Tex to bullfighting school in La Gloria, TX. There I was exposed to the intricacies of the sport. As with any art form, having a knowledge base from which to judge allows one to create a more valued if not solely more clear opinion.

That being said, I have not come to a conclusion as to the sport´s relation to civil life. Yet, having watched the fascinating spectacle I do think that it is a glory that might only be understood by the matador who is looking directly into the black eyes of a 500 kilo toro and those who attempt asses the undertaking from that perspective.

I saw 5 toros slain in total. The beauty is derived from the methodical way in which the ends is achieved. What starts as a team task is eventually widdled down to matador v. bull and on this day those of us on the side of opposable thumbs would win out.

Blood? yeah there was blood. Maybe I am a desensitized product of an exposed generation (and hunter culture) but the blood was not bothersome. In fact, amongst the red walls and brown sands it seemed almost natural - just another stroke of the brush on a masterpiece.

Who was I cheering for? the matador of course. Although, it does seem that many people innately feel for the bull as well. Even the older aged woman sitting next to me, who judging by her knowledge of the ongoings must have attended many a bullfight in her day, had sympathy for the bull. I guess the point to be gathered from this is that it really is an adversarial match. As much as it may seem to the naysayer that the bull has no chance, it is simply not the case. The toro is as much a loser to a contest as the matador certainly is if he makes that one small error in precision and grace.

Now can I throw all the politics out? If so, then let me say that bullfighting is damn cool. Through all the tradition I felt as if I was doing something that a 23 year old hundreds of years ago would have been doing across the Atlantic in old Spain. I got chills as the band began playing the traditional anthems and the entire crowd stood up belting out the lyrics in unison. Ole! Ole! was yelled which each pass of the cape.

And lastly, let me add this, just like Golf claims to be a gentleman´s game, so too is bullfighting. If a group of rowdy youths was getting out of hand with the jeers, the crowd would reprimand them. There are both times to cheer and times to be silent while participating. With regard to the actual fighting, there is skill to respect and also careless peformance that does not go unrecognized. In other words, if you are going to take/defend a life then you must do so in a forum that is worthy of respect and in a fashion that demands respect. Sounds a bit like a trial courtroom if you ask me.

It was a magnificent and dignified end to an incredible experience in Cali. There is no question that I will return to this city again and again. Just like is necessary when leaving any love, I tore myself away from the city abruptly. I left the Plaza by taxi, picked up my bags, and headed to straight to the bus station. I am now currently in Medellin after a 9 hour overnight ride.

Medellin posts coming soon.