A Controversial Art Form - Bullfighting in Spain

Before I begin this entry, I have to mention two things:

First of all, this is my second post of the day, and one of many in the past couple of days. Please check below and the monthly archives at the bottom for the complete listing of entries.

Secondly, the topic at hand for this entry is a little graphic, and controversial to many. I omitted a number of shots that I though might stir the pot a bit too much. But the reality is this: bulls die during bullfights. That's how they've done it for many, many years. It is tradition. I just wanted to make a disclaimer beforehand.

Onto the Plaza de Toros, where we entered to watch a night of bullfighting. The whole town was abuzz with the idea of the bullfights today, since pretty much every American didn't want to leave Spain without seeing something the country is somewhat known for (although, I learned that the biggest bullring is actually in Mexico City, Mexico). Here we are climbing the stairs to our small seats.

 A view from my seat. It was a B-E-A-U-tiful day that day. One of the warmest we've had in Granada, and much warmer than it has been any day afterward.

 The band sounds their horns, and out come all the people who will be performing during the night (minus the bulls).

 The guys with the really high pants and the round rimmed hats are the matadors, known in Spain as toreros. There were 5 on display this night, 1 of which is a Granada native and one (the white hat, tall guy) being only 16 or 17 years old. Here they are welcoming the crowd.

 I had learned a lot about bullfighting in my Spanish culture class here, but it was completely different seeing it in person. The culture and tradition of it really stood out. Beforehand, a lot of people were very worried about the violence aspect; and rightfully so. It is pretty sad to watch the bull die, and at some points it does seem a bit cruel. I personally see both sides of the coin, but I tend to side with the more unpopular vote in Spain - I'm pro-bullfighting. I look at it this way: Many animals, from the time they are born to the time they die (which may be a matter of days/months) are kept caged up and are only bred for their meat or what they can produce. They are treated poorly from the get-go. Bulls are not like this. From the time they are chosen to be a bull (and not a castrated bull), they are treated like kings. They are fed well, they are given a large amount of land in which to live. They live lavishly until the day they fight in the bullring, and it is considered an honorable death. Also, the bull doesn't go to waste: it is immediately butchered and sold to the local restaurants and eaten that very night.

Yes, it does seem bad, but I guess at the end of the day, I'd rather be a bull and go out in style than be a chicken in a box.

Anyway, onto more photos.

 My friend Jason in the white tee and sunglasses, sitting by himself. He got a ticket late, and had to buy an expensive seat.

 One of the interesting things I wasn't expecting is that there are many different forms of bullfighting. This night alone we saw 3: this guy who stayed on horseback nearly the entire time, a traditional fight that incorporates a lot of different people and the torero, and one guy that does all the work by himself.

 This type of fight was really interesting. I think I can call it a controlled chaos - as you can see above, he lets the bull get very close, and has the horse do a sidestep gallop, literally feet (and sometimes inches) from the bull. Many times I thought the bull was going to get the horse, but every time he would slip away.

 So as I mentioned before, there is generally many people helping out the torero. Theres about 4 of these little passageways in the plaza, and each one has a guy with a pink colored cape. He uses the cape to taunt the bull away from something, or towards something.

 A blurry example of how close the bull got to the horse.

 Here's a quick rundown on how each fight goes:

Bull comes out. Runs around a bit and the dudes with pink capes get him running a bit. Eventually the torero comes out and taunts the bull. Next, helpers of the torero pick up two small poles that they attempt to hook into the back of the bull. As shown above, they aim for right behind the head. In this instance, the torero put in two of the daggers(?) on his own, but generally he has others do it. When they both stick, everyone claps. If he misses both, everyone whistles (Spanish booing).

I forgot to mention a point. Before any of this happens, the two armored horses come out, as you saw a couple photos previously. The bull will full blown run into the side of the horse, but it is pretty well protected. These horses even have coverings over their eyes, because if they didn't have them, they would freak out and most likely hell would ensue. The job of the people mounted on these horses is to make the first puncture into the bull with their long lance.

Okay, so the bull is out, tiring, it has been lanced, 2-3 helpers have placed small dagger-like rods in its back that hang down. By now, the bull is bleeding pretty bad and starting to show some signs of weakness. Not every bull is built equally. Some were still pretty fresh at this point. But, generally, they weaken. At this point, the torero comes out with his red cape, and his sword. He gets very close to the bull and begins to have the bull chase the red cape multiple times, like you would expect. He does this many many times, until eventually the bull can no longer stand. It kneels and eventually lays down before the torero.

 At this point, the torero takes his sword, and in one quick motion, inserts his blade completely in the bulls back, and, if done properly, the bull falls over, and the crowd cheers. Yes, it does seem really bad the first time. And yes, sometimes the torero misses (this is the worst) or sometimes the bull doesn't die when the sword is put in.

Once the bull is down, another helper comes by and ensures the death of the bull by using a small dagger and puncturing the head of the animal. As tradition here calls for, the tail and ears are generally cut off and thrown into the crowd. The bullfighter walks around proudly, shakes his hat at the crowd, and people cheer. The bull is then dragged by two horses out of the ring, the dirt is raked fresh, and a new fight begins at the sound of the band's horns.

 Here you can see how close the bull gets to the torero. Pretty crazy.

 This shot, although somewhat blurry, shows the mayor of Granada in the middle. He actually has a job during the fights. Well, rather, after the fights. For each fight that was done well, all of the crowded will shake white handkerchiefs in the air, signalling the mayor to throw out his handkerchief over the edge, signalling a fight well done. Sometimes, he will do two. Sometimes, zero.

Hard to tell, but the seats were very tight. People's knees were in your back nearly the whole time. Also, with the sun setting, although pretty, it was pretty darn hot.

 Again, not a great photo, but this guy was by far the best of the night. This is the torero from Granada, and he did all the work himself. He lanced the bull, put in all the daggers (I feel so bad I can't remember what they're called, I learned it...sorry professor!) and eventually killed the bull. I actually felt really entertained by him, whereas the other bullfighters made it feel more like a process.

 Bullfighter with tail and ears in hand, looking for eager fans who want to...take it home? I guess? Not sure what the next step is once you get a bull tail home.

 Armored horse guy.

 Notice the covering over the eyes of the horse. Pretty scary when the bull hits the horse, even though you know it is protected.

 Here's a shot of the band. I don't really remember them playing many songs, more just one note, really loudly, signalling the beginning of a new fight.

 Here's the young matador, doing his thing.

 An example of the bull going down from exhaustion.

 And a job well done, says the mayor.

 I excluded quite a few photos. I figured no one really wants to see a dead bull on the ground. It is sad, for sure, there is no denying it. No one likes to see an animal get killed. Strangely, after one or two, you get mostly desensitized to it, and you begin cheering for the bullfighter (where in the beginning, you kinda want to see the bull take someone down).

Anyway, heres a shot as people are filtering out (above).

 Some guy.

 Can you tell that I like this beer yet?

 A cool night shot I got of the Plaza de Toros as we were walking away.

It was an interesting night. Some people thought they'd cry, but really we all left feeling a little better about the entire ordeal, strangely. Through pictures and on paper it sounds horrible, but when you can take in the culture and feel the tradition in the air, it begins to feel okay.

Ta'luego

Granada FC - A Day on the Pitch

Granada has its own futbol (soccer) team, in the division just below the big teams of Spain (such as Real Madrid, Barcelona, etc). This post will document some of the photos from the second game I saw.

The stadium is pretty close to where I live...maybe 10 minutes by bus. It's a pretty crazy atmosphere outside of the stadium before a game. Lots of chanting, singing songs, people drinking at one of the many nearby bars. There's a bunch of little kiosks and vendors trying to get you to buy random Granada FC (futbol club) stuff. Eventually we walk up to the ticket window and say "Lo mas barato por favor" which means "the cheapest ticket you have." The prices can vary depending on the time of the game and the opponent. When Granada was playing Betis, a team from northern Spain which was in 1st place in the league at the time, I heard the cheapest tickets were 35 euros. Both times I have gone, however, the tickets have been 20. 

We enter the stadium, find our seats at the very top, and start to take it in.

 Sadly the day was a bit foggy, but you can see the Sierra Nevada in the background.

 I don't know what the mascot is supposed to be, but this is him.

 Tons of excitement in the stands as the players make their way out onto the field. Granada is apparently playing the best they have in the past 5 or so years. The first game I saw, within the first 15 minutes, the Granada goalie (portero in Spanish) got a red card for trying to slide tackle in the box. He was ejected, the other team scored on the penalty kick, and Granada was quickly down 0-1 playing with only 10 men (you normally have 11). After halftime, the team completely got in a groove, scoring the tying goal with about 15 minutes left on an amazing header, and then the winning goal with about 3 minutes left. The place was electric.

 One of the Granada players kicking a corner.

 Aaaaand the obvious worst part of futbol. The part with which I am really losing my patience after these months in Spain. This is a sport, but as you can see above, its more of an argument. Players take flops when someone "trips" them to try to draw a call from the referee. Yes, this happens in other sports too, but not NEARLY as often as it does here. And none of these guys are good actors. It gets really annoying to watch.

 Another corner. Took this shot through the railing in front of me.

This game went much better for Granada. They got the opening goal, then the other team tied it back up. After halftime, Granada got 2 more goals, all of which were on rocketed shots that were really well placed. Every time there's a goal for Granada, the whole stadium sings a song that I've begun to learn the words.

"Whooooooaaaa oooaa oaaaa oaa, whooooooaaaaa oooaaa oaaa ooo...Vamo(s) mi Granada, Vamos Campeon!"

I tried my best to encapsulate the sound of it. I put the (s) in parenthesis because it's really not pronounced here. As I learned in my previous Spanish linguistics class, it is common in some parts of the Spanish speaking world to drop last syllables, or sometimes certain sounds altogether. For example, a funny line we say here between friends is "No pa na en Grana." Literally, a lot of Granadinos will say this line, or close to it, which should actually be "No pasa nada en Granada" (Don't worry about it (anything) in Granada). I've become accustomed to saying thank you (gracias) as just gracia. The phrase "hasta luego" which means see you later, has become "ta'luego" or even just "ta'lueo". This is stuff we do in English too, for sure, but its really noticeable here in Granada.

 Granada wins, and the fans filter out pretty quickly.

 Well, everyone filters out except this one section of the stadium, which is the losing teams fans.

 Afterwards, we walk towards the bus, but decide to grab some tapas before heading back. For 2.50, I got a beer and one of these taste sandwiches.

Alas, here is the beer that I got, the one I've been raving about since i got here. Alhambra Reserva 1925. Very smooth, a bit higher alcohol content (6.4%) and just delicious. Goes with anything. Had quite a few of these in my time here. Definitely going to miss this, and the ability to eat outside for 2.50 and have a decent sized meal.

Combo-post! Flamenco Show + Las Alpujarras

Third (3!) post of the day today. Be sure to check below and the bottom links for any updates you may have missed. There have been quite a few recently as I try to close out my Spanish experience.

This section as mentioned in the title is a two parter. The first part took place one special night in which Juan and Maria invited my roommate Justin and I to go watch their son sing flamenco in downtown Granada. We were pretty excited to do it, and it was really the first time they had ever invited us to do stuff with them. 

A little about Juan and Maria: First off, they're great. I really enjoy being a part of their family here. I don't complain much here, but one thing about the two of them - they walk REALLY slowly. And not because they can't walk faster (I've seen them scurry about the house at a lightning pace) but because A) they enjoy taking their time and B) they know EVERYONE on the street. Justin and I literally had to stop multiple times on our way because they kept having to stop and greet (aka give a kiss on each cheek) many people on the street on our 10 minute walk that became 30 minutes. It was insane, but hilarious at the same time, since we had never really seen either of them out in public like that. It was certainly fun seeing them in a new environment.

Anyway, as we crawled up to the theatre, we entered and noticed that there were not going to be any other Americans there. This was probably a first for me in Granada; generally there are Americans everywhere. We grab a seat up near the front and the show begins about 10 minutes later. The first to play were these two young kids. Both were extremely talented. The one on the right made playing advanced guitar look effortless. Really something.

 Later on, the father of one of the kids and a friend came on stage and clapped the traditional flamenco beat.

 Up next was this gentleman, a solo act.

 After a bit of waiting, Juan and Maria could not hold back their excitement as their son took the stage (on the left). His name is also Juan, and he was probably the most talented singer of the night in my opinion. A little bit about flamenco: it isn't as melodic or paced as you'd think. In fact it is a bit hectic. There are a lot of octave changes, loud to soft singing and long drawn out sounds. It's interesting to hear, certainly. One of Juan's signature moves (I suppose I can call it that) is that at the end of a song, he generally belts out a loud, long phrase with a lot of power and emotion, and then stands up with great force and bows/signals to his guitarist. Definitely caught me off guard the first time he did it, but it was an interesting way to begin the applause.

 I wasn't looking, but Justin who was sitting to my left was watching Juan, who was sitting to his left, throughout each performance of his son. He mentioned that Juan was sitting on the edge of the seat, literally trembling with excitement and mouthing the words to the songs. I wish I had looked over. Juan is a funny man.

 Afterwards, these two guys came on stage and performed. I guess you could call them the main attraction? The fellow on the right is actually Canadian. Go figure.

 On our way home, we spotted this Ren and Stimpy van. Yeah, I don't know why either.

 Part 2: Las Alpujarras. This was another ISA sponsored trip to a part just south of the Sierra Nevada (check my last update) that is famous for its mountainside white appearance and its food. The trip up here was very much like that of the Sierra Nevada - windy and vomit inducing. Thankfully everyone was able to stomach it, but it was quite windy.

 Pretty cool to be up here in the mountains like this. Our main goal here was a hike with our whole group, which was about 80 or more people. Yikes.

 Around the very beginning of our hike, we come across this line on the ground. Upon further inspection...

 Inchworms of some kind. A whole bunch of them slowly making their trek across this path. The tour guide mentioned some stuff about them, and as we were about to walk away, one girl almost touched one. The tour guide quickly grabbed her hand and pulled her back, mentioning that they are super poisonous and that even touching it once could hospitalize you. Crazy.

 He we are, crossing a shallow river, our directors helping us across some of the harder parts.

 Yes, what you are seeing is a keg. Not the best photo, but this was a guy leading a donkey with two big kegs of beer.

 About halfway through, we found a nice plateau and ate our bocadillo lunches. This was our view.

 Here's our mega-group relaxing after lunch.

 All I can think of here is Lemmings, the old computer game.

 Our hotel was one of these buildings. The weather this day was picture perfect. Not too hot, not too cold. Our hotel was very cozy. I think everyone really likes staying in the hotels, because they don't have to worry about using too much water/electricity, which some house mothers really try to limit.

 Across the street from our hotel was this little bar, serving the main beer of Madrid, Mahou. Not my favorite, but this was a primo location.

 We sat down, got a beer, ate some olives (you always get olives here, always) and played Euchre, while the sun went down. Bellisimo.

I don't think theres much more that a man needs in life than a good beer, good friends, and a cutthroat game of cards with ridiculous amounts of smacktalk.