Valencia -- Part I

The sky is darkening to a orangish red, the sun is just about to drop over the rim of the stadium. The weather -- just about perfect with pants and a t-shirt on. There is an intesity amongst the impatient crowd. Old men, weathered by the Spanish sun, chew their cigars chatting between each other in anticipation. They are as excited as I am even though they have witnessed this event many many times in their life. Me, well I don´t really know how they could be as anxious, it´s my first time in such a stadium. As if he knows, one of the old men looks over to me, says something in spanish and gives me a huge grin. I know he said, `here we go, this is going to be a good one.´

My seat is old and hard as rock, but I don´t hardly notice. Wait! The gate is open... a big one, black, charges out. The crowd grows louder. out of the sides of the ring the torero´s assitants appear with their red-pink capes. The bull is full speed ahead, chasing after each of these men. The band strikes a chord and out come the horses, the bull burries his horns into the armored side of one of them, the mounted picador spears his back. The begining of a blood river flows down the bull´s side.

The band again begins. This is now the signal for the banderillero. Standing in the center of the stage, he raises his colorfull barbed poles. His appearance is of a preying mantis. The bull is infuriated by this gesture. He now charges this new man. Waiting until the last second, the crowd holding their breath, the banderillero skillfully places his banderillas. This act is repeated four more times all eight of the barbed spears now rest in the bulls back. The banderillero´s have been especially brave and skilled in their strikes, the crowd rewards them with appreciation of applause.

Now a new tune plays for the enterance of the matador. I rattle off as many pictures as I can. The bull, still angry as ever, has blood rolling down his back and sides. He seems unphased. Now alone in the arena with the bull, the matador skillfully moves his feet while holding his brilliant red cape, taunting for a charge.

Oley! Oley! The crowd is chanting. This particular matador is pleasing the crowd with his swiftness of foot and hand. The bull is also putting on a show of strength and stamina. Now, the final chord by the band. At this point, the matador recieves a new sword. The final moment is upon us, the crowd recongnizes and builds in sound. With several more volleys between the bull and matador, he raises his sword in a striking position. When the bull charges, it will be his last, the matador burries the sword deep into back, he stops, and falls to the dust. The crowd roars! The matador, looks at the bull giving it final thanks for sparing his life and for giving him fame.

In victory, the matador walks around the crowded arena. Bunches of flowers, single roses, and flags rain upon the stadium floor. The crowd is up on their feet waving white flags in the air. Giving kisses and bows, the matador retires within the walls.

This is a spanish bull fight. I was glad to have the chance to see one of these events, taken place in the city of Valencia on the southern coast, a short trip south of Barcelona. The event lasted 2.5 hours, the crowd was pleased, no man or animal was seriously wounded -- except for 6 bulls. I would say to those farmers who raise beef cattle, forget the cows, build a stadium, work something out with animal rights people, raise bulls for meat, and instead of sending them to slaughter, sell tickets and fill the market with bull meat. Yes, I know there would be many problems with this, but it is a novel idea (I´m sure the meat wouldn´t be as good) and it works in Spain! (all bulls killed are processed for meat right behind the scene).

As you noticed, this is part I of Valencia. Part II to come later. This week in the city of Valencia, there is a festival called Las Fallas. This is why we travelled there and why the bull fighting was so good this week, or so I was told.