September 8 - Madrid

My attempt at being cultured resulted in me and Joe going to a bullfight. Bullfights have 3 stages: first the practice matador guys (with the pink capes) come and annoy the bull a little and then run and hide from it, and then they bring out this horse which is all padded and stuff and make the bull charge it, and the guy on the horse spears the bull in the back with this big pointy stick, and then they get the picadors out (the little pointy skewers that the matadors use - there are 3 sets of two), and then the real matador (with the red cape) comes out, does his thing and then delivers killing blow to the bull by running this entire sword into its back.

Then people cheer and if the bull isn´t dead, one of the practice rodeo clown matadors severs the nerve thing in the bull´s back. Then they bring out these horses who they tie the bull to, and then they drag it around the bullring and out. Then the whole process is repeated again with another 5 bulls (so there are a total of 6 bulls).

People yell and heckle the matadors like at a football game. If the matador is super good, the Spanish people wave white handkerchiefs or tissues and cheer, and if the president of the bullfight agrees from his corporate box, the matador is awarded the bull´s ears.

It was pretty gross. The bull would be bleeding profusely and panting and have piacdors sticking out of it. We were about 5 rows back and had really good seats but it was kind of perturbing. Sometimes the matador wouldn´t deliver the killing blow properly and instead would puncture the bull´s lungs or something so it would just spew a ton of blood. We also saw a matador get tossed by a bull (and I secretly cheered). We stayed for 4 bulls before we had enough. I´m glad I went to see the actual thing and the cultural aspect of it but I definitely wouldn´t go again.