On Sunday, we went to the Bullfight at the Plaza del Toro. I know, I know; Barbarians! Torturers! Bloodshed! But actually, it was a pretty interesting cultural experience...and one that I NEVER need to have ever again. We started off the day by going to the Rastro, a big schlock market with every trinket and weird item of clothing you could imagine. Like Samurai swords.
And, of course, fabulous, delicious, Spanish tapas. Food. Always food. This place has every type of olive and gherkin you could ever want.
Next door, we had sardines for breakfast
and shrimp (pas moi) and fried calamari that was all excellent, but so salty that we had to wash it down with beer. At 10 am.
We started out our bullfighting evening, surprise, surprise, by getting the time wrong (7pm, not 5pm) and so took a stroll through Madrid, slowly winding our way to the bullfight.
And finally, we got to the Plaza del Toro.
The bullfight was pretty intense. We were all seated in different parts of the crowd and AJ and I quickly realized we were in the drunkard hecklers' section. Everybody was laughing at us, gasping and jaws dropping. The way it works is that each bull is taken on by a Matador and his team of assistants, including two men on horses. The horses are covered in padding and each bull took a go at them, though the padding served to protect them...barely.
The assistants annoy, exhaust, and distract the bull, while the matador sticks long knife-like things in his back until he's weakened,
then pulls out a red cape (all the capes up to this point are hot-pink) and a sword. He does this intimate one-on-one dance with the bull as all the assistants leave to stand outside the ring. Then, after he's humiliated the bull sufficiently, he goes to the edge of the ring and takes a thicker sword and uses this to stab the bull through the shoulder blades, into the spine and the heart. Once the bull collapses, an assistant stabs it in the brain. This last part was the most horrible and AJ and I were not at all expecting it and both let out a little scream. Then an entire team of horses and assistants comes out to drag the bull out of the ring.
After that, we needed a little pick-me up to recover from all the death so we went to the Museo del Jamon (which, yes, is the Museum of Ham). For dinner we had all different kinds of hams including Chorizo.
The Gang!
This is why it's called the Museum.
And, of course, fabulous, delicious, Spanish tapas. Food. Always food. This place has every type of olive and gherkin you could ever want.
Next door, we had sardines for breakfast
and shrimp (pas moi) and fried calamari that was all excellent, but so salty that we had to wash it down with beer. At 10 am.
We started out our bullfighting evening, surprise, surprise, by getting the time wrong (7pm, not 5pm) and so took a stroll through Madrid, slowly winding our way to the bullfight.
And finally, we got to the Plaza del Toro.
The bullfight was pretty intense. We were all seated in different parts of the crowd and AJ and I quickly realized we were in the drunkard hecklers' section. Everybody was laughing at us, gasping and jaws dropping. The way it works is that each bull is taken on by a Matador and his team of assistants, including two men on horses. The horses are covered in padding and each bull took a go at them, though the padding served to protect them...barely.
The assistants annoy, exhaust, and distract the bull, while the matador sticks long knife-like things in his back until he's weakened,
then pulls out a red cape (all the capes up to this point are hot-pink) and a sword. He does this intimate one-on-one dance with the bull as all the assistants leave to stand outside the ring. Then, after he's humiliated the bull sufficiently, he goes to the edge of the ring and takes a thicker sword and uses this to stab the bull through the shoulder blades, into the spine and the heart. Once the bull collapses, an assistant stabs it in the brain. This last part was the most horrible and AJ and I were not at all expecting it and both let out a little scream. Then an entire team of horses and assistants comes out to drag the bull out of the ring.
After that, we needed a little pick-me up to recover from all the death so we went to the Museo del Jamon (which, yes, is the Museum of Ham). For dinner we had all different kinds of hams including Chorizo.
The Gang!
This is why it's called the Museum.
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