Olé olé olé! Pomp and circumstance, cheers and cat calls began the promenade of matadors. The Plaza de Toros, filled with tourists, locals, and bull fighting enthusiasts, was holding its Sunday bullfight: The lure of seeing Spanish tradition in action and the writings of Ernest Hemingway drew us to Plaza de Toros this Sunday. Excited, yet wary, we made our way through the circular entrance and up to our seats, where we caught the entrance of the matadors and began to click our cameras.
The sounding of horns announced the entrance of the bull, who was quickly lured to the multiple banderilleros who made a show of flapping their pink banner and stabbing the bull with hooks that had decorative streamers, allowing the main matador to have a head start with the injured bull. Two picadores mounted on blindfolded horses covered with padding, entered the arena, drawing the bulls interest. The bull stabbed the horse and its matador, spurring the matador to stab the bull repeatedly with his long stick, topped with a bayonet. Finally, the bull, spotted with bright red blood, was joined by the matador, his assassin. The matador completed a series of tricks for the enjoyment of the crowd, leading the injured bull to his sword and, if he was a good matador, sliding his sword into the bull, to the hilt. If he was not a good matador, he would repeatedly stick the bull, who would then buck the sword. The tricked bull, soaked in his own blood, once stabbed, began to bleed from his nose and mouth profusely, dropping from a normal stance to his haunches. The crowd, previously silent, cried “Olé!”
Hemingway once wrote: "He [the matador] must have a spiritual enjoyment of the moment of killing. Killing cleanly and in a way which gives you esthetic pleasure and pride has always been one of the greatest enjoyments of a part of the human race.”
La corrida de toros is nothing like hunting. The matador does not lay in wait for the bull, quickly killing him mercifully. Instead, the group of bullfighters repeatedly stabs the bull, torturing him to death. The sport is not only dangerous for the bull, whose meat will later be sold to local restaurants, but also to the horses who are often stabbed by the bulls, and the bullfighters themselves.
The unsuspecting bull, bullied into a fight, tortured and speared, suffers as he slowly dies, running, blood gushing, and dropping to his knees. Tears welled up in my eyes and I choked on a sob.
“Where is PETA during all of this?” I asked myself as I swiped the tears off my cheeks. PETA declares: “Each year, approximately 10,000 bulls die in bullfights, an inaccurate term for events in which there is very little competition between a nimble, sword-wielding matador (Spanish for “killer”) and a confused, maimed, psychologically tormented, and physically debilitated animal.”
We left the fight early, leaving behind the cheering, shirt waiving crowd behind.
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The next time I eat at OutBack, I'm ordering the salmon.