Holy Cow! This is not the Calgary Stampede!

Content Warning. For all you PETA members out there, you'd best go find something else to do, because I may get into some subject matter which will make you uncomfortable.

 I've been told leaving a post-blog comment has been a problem (Thanks Christina), up until now. I had the security settings set incorrectly although you now are anonymous unless you say who you are in the comment. Perhaps that is best. My apologies to those who were unable to correct my grammar in previous blogs.

Ok, for the rest of you, since all the estrogen in the house was away in Paris for a few days,
I chose to experience a time-honored tradition where a large animal with horns tries to disembowel what can best be described as a bit of a nancy-boy strutting around in his little brother's modern dance outfit. That being said, it was still fascinating.

One of the local towns lies just on the north edge of Basque country and this gives them all the excuse they need to have a five-day drunken extravaganza. I was reminded of the Calgary Stampede as everyone was dressed in classic red-and-white garb, and traditional events of various kinds were held each day. I had no idea how close the parallels ran until I parked my car at 11 a.m. and the guy in the next car plunked a half-finished 1.14 litre bottle of vodka on his hood and began preparing what was obviously not his first drink of the day. Also, I witnessed post-partying carnage on a scale not seen since a certain softball tournament in Whitefish Montana many years ago: there were bodies everywhere. Most  seemed alive although the stench didn't allow me to get close enough to be sure. The reason I arrived early was the promise of a Pamplona-style running of the bulls. True to form, the town had thrown up an extended dog run through the middle of town and ran a bunch of large and angry bulls after a bunch of small and frightened people as shown here:

Oops. That can't be right. Now I remember. They had a preliminary running of the bull-like things, to the great delight of all the small people in the crowd. And then my camera battery died and then the real bulls were unleashed. Rookie photographer mistake. Sorry. Just scale up the image I have here to real bulls and bigger people without smiles and you get the idea. Fortunately, or not if you're squeamish, I was able to get the battery pack charged in time for the real show later in the day.

I wasn't sure what to expect, considering this little town has a single traffic light. I thought, perhaps, I was going to be in for the bullfighting equivalent of seeing a performance of Cats or Les Mis,  done at the local dinner theatre.  I'd say the jury is still out.

I'll give you the reader's digest version of a bullfight. The frisky but clearly pissed-off bull is released into the arena. His horns are very pointy and he looks like he would happily kill anyone stupid enough to step into the ring. Four or five junior matador guys wave their capes at the bull and run him around the arena a bunch of times. Next, in comes a fellow riding a horse that has so much padding one would question whether it is actually a horse under there. The nice man has a long pointy stick, which he  does his best to jam into the meaty bits behind the bull's head as the bull tries to turn his mount into steak tartare. As a side note, I don't think I'll be ordering the steak tartare here as we weren't able to get a clear answer as to what happens to both the bull and the horse after the event. The horse is blindfolded, which makes sense because although horses aren't tremendously clever creatures, they wouldn't willingly do this:

The next bit is what I deemed to be the job of the guy who draws the short straw that day. He has to jab two much shorter pointy sticks into the shoulders of the bull, who is by now really angry. No horse, no cape, all they have are quick feet.

These guys do their best with the short pointy sticks, which I have been told are tipped with a sedative to make the bull a bit goofy (where's the sport in that, I ask you?). Then, the shiniest guy of all, the matador, comes in to 'finish the job'.

We had good seats, close enough to get some dirt flung in our faces when a bull made a quick turn. At least, I hope it was dirt.  Being up close afforded me an opportunity to see just how cosy the matador and the bull could get.  I'll admit, there were times when I was quite impressed with how they hung it out there.

These guys were pretty good, especially when you consider they're wearing slippers while they work.

 Generally speaking, the bull loses. I have to admit there where times where I was looking for an atypical finish. I have also read that on rare occasions the fans can petition for a particularly fiesty bull to spared. Sadly, that was not to be on this night. Final Score: Matadors 6 - bulls 0, with one draw (to be explained later).

Between bulls, the local version of the Zamboni would appear:

Now, before you get too disappointed in the somewhat dull version of events I have described, there were a few good moments for the bulls. One bull knocked the horse guy on his butt and in the confusion to keep the horse from being damaged, one daring but not too clever individual jumped into the fray to assist. I have to ask, "does this seem like a good idea to you?":

As far as the draw goes, one bull slammed his head into the boards in his haste to decapitate on of the junior matadors. He rang his own bell so hard they let him go. I hope he is experiencing early retirement with full benefits, if you know what I mean.

I will not be turning this blog into a forum for discussing the ethical complexities of bullfighting. I've seen one now and won't be back for seconds. I've left out many pictures that suggest a somewhat more gruesome event than the one I've described. I've also left out descriptions of the numerous botched 'finishes' which quickly reminded me of dinner theatre, Tim Burton style. We were up close, so I didn't miss a thing. On the bright side, as I drove home, I only experienced the usual number of tendencies towards butchering strangers, so the event seems to have no lingering effects. Still, not for the faint of heart.

Next: guests, and how to get rid of them.