We first found Madrid to be just a typical big city. It
seemed to be a great place to live with a lot of people and activity, but not much in the
way of unusual "sights." No mountains, no ruins, no large body of water. But we
liked it.
The day after we arrived we headed toward the weekly flea
market, known as El Rastro. It also happened to be the day of the Madrid Marathon--so we
got an extra treat. Dave began thinking of his triathlon days of last summer, and had to
be held back from joining the race.
It was in Madrid that we realized we stuck to our budget
much better when we had a kitchen. Our first night we went in to scope out our hostel's
kitchen and met three people...all from the Chicagoland area. Our chats with J.D. and Lisa
(recent WI-Madison grads) lasted way past midnight several evenings in a row. Visits to
the department store El Corte Englais's basement grocery store also became part of our
daily ritual.
The Prado museum was another one of the
"attractions" we took in. It's primarily known for its extensive collection of
El Greco and Velazquez works, plus many Titians and a Rembrandt.
A trip to Madrid wouldn't be complete without witnessing a
bull fight. We may have missed opening day at Wrigley Field this year, but were there to
help launch bullfight season in Madrid. The ritual of the fight was quite familiar to us
by the time we got to it on our last day in Madrid. The owner of our hostel seemed to have
the "All bullfights, All the time" cable channel as it was on his television
whenever we came by, so we had caught bits and pieces of fights throughout the week.
Seeing it live was a bit different. The blood was a
lot more prevalent than on the TV. The crowd the day we went consisted of middle age +
Spaniards who were used to every nuance of the fight. The three matadors varied in age
from 18 to 29, and the bulls (they came out with a sign indicating the bull's age before
each round) were between 2-4 years.
Only the matador sported the popular red cape, the
"helpers" had bright pink capes with yellow insides as extra protection when
their back was turned. We thought that the whole game was really stacked against the
bulls. Before the bull would even enter the ring he is stuck with a small knife--so he's
already agitated. Then the taunting phase starts. The "sub-matadors" then ran
around the perimeter of the ring to tease the bull and get it to chase them so as to tire
it out.
Then, a parade of men with armored horses would come into
the ring and as the bull attacked the horses, the men stabbed the bull with a huge harpoon
to start the bleeding. Next came the set who we thought were the bravest.
These men, without the diversion of a cape or a sword, would run up to the bull and stick
it behind it's neck with two colorful stakes--while simultaneously avoiding the bull's
horns. As you might imagine from all the terrorizing, the bull was quite dazed and
exhausted by the time the matador even arrived on the scene.
But there is a reason why the matadors get all the attention
(and all the chicks). They appear on the scene in elaborate costumes and taunt the bull
with their blazing red capes as the crowd cheers. They strut, they dance, they
swish, they tease. But like professional soccer for many Americans, we didn't completely
understand all the nuances of the fight. There was one man who ran up to the bull to
jab his stakes into it's neck (it looked just like every other attempt we'd seen so far)
and for some reason the crowd went crazy. He received a standing ovation and he came
out for several bows. We figured he must have stabbed the bull very close to his
horns and that's why the crowd went wild, but we we'll never know for sure.
After the matador spends ten or fifteen minutes taunting the
bull, he kills the bull by stabbing his sword in the back of the bull's neck. As you
can probably imagine, it is probably very difficult to stab a bull behind his neck as he
comes at you full steam. The best matadors kill the bull with one strike. The
others may require several attempts before the "clean-up-guy" appears to make
sure the bull is dead, or to quickly put (pith) him out of his misery.
We were kind of bummed after the first bull was killed since
he seemed quite passive and rather cute. The last bull was a monster and actually knocked
the armored horse completely over as well as getting a good lick at the matador. But
luckily for the matador, the bull ignored him and continued to go after his red cape which
fell on the ground to the side. And this is the beast that requires up to 10
intelligent human beings (purportedly with the ability to reason) to kill. Makes one
think...
We did enjoy ourselves and were glad we experienced a
"live" bullfight. But we still don't completely understand how people can watch
it every single day since it seemed so repetitive: the bull comes out, is taunted, stabbed
a few times, and then finally killed. We're sure bullfight fans probably feel the
same way about American baseball or football (which Dave says he still prefers for its own
variety of blood and gore).
On the last day before heading east to Barcelona we decided
to take a day trip to Toledo.
