Spanian Birthday Party

Today is my birthday! It was, by far, the most eventful birthday I have had since birth. We started off the day in Sagovia, about an hour's drive from our hotel. This town was full of things and people to analyze. We stopped at a cathedral that was more on the reverent side, and I really enjoyed listening to the rhythm of the priest's prayer. We then headed to a much larger cathedral that was not being used to worship in at the time. The art was spectacular, and the history behind the building was incredibly romantic. We spent hours walking around, soaking up the environment and symbolism.

My one complaint was that the building was very cold inside. Being made of mostly marble, it was both symbolically and literally cold. However, despite the cold, watching the nuns here was a very peculiar experience. Comparing the nuns I came into contact here with the ones in Zaragoza, there were obvious differences. These ladies treated the building like any tourist would. They took pictures, despite the obvious signs that disallowed it, and spoke to one another more openly. I don't know the reasons behind this, but I would be interested to know where these nuns come from and if their day to day lives are different than others. Up until now, I have grouped nuns into one general category and never stopped to wonder if there were huge differences between convents.

The main attraction in this city is the ancient Roman aqueducts that surround the walled part of it. They are huge, and pictures do not do them justice. I am awed by the determination and ingenuity it must have taken to build them in order to have water flow int their city on a hill. I did stop and question if I would have been able to do come up with something similar in the same circumstances. Obviously, I like to think that I would. It's hard to play around with "what ifs" though.

After some down time, we were off to the bull fight. We made a party out of it and dressed up with previously purchased traditional Spanish attire. We had shawls and fans, and had placed red flowers in our hair. We received several compliments both on our way there and while in the arena. It seems that this type of dress is what is considered beautiful here, while in America; it would have seemed too much like a costume. The fight was the most intriguing thing I have ever witnessed. I came into it with the expectation of loving every second of it, and to some degree, it came to pass exactly how I prepared for it. My travel companions, on the other hand, discussed how worried they were about it for days before. Proper preparation on my end was incredibly helpful when they time came. I did not struggle with the idea of a dead animal until there was a brown one that came in. It had such big eyes and it looked so scared. But in the end, even though it was killed, I believe that it won the fight. It refused to play the matadors' game, and died standing up and proud.

There are three stages to the fight. In the beginning, the bull enters the arena and there are a few people in the arena with large capes. Their job is to tease the bull for a short period of time until the trumpets signal the next stage. This stage must not be very popular, because few audience members paid very much attention, and it did not last long. In the second stage, two horseman come out with spears. They then entice the bull to attack the horse, who is heavily padded, so that the horseman can spear it. These men must spear the bull twice before the next stage can begin. Then, two matadors attempt to stab the bull with two flag spears. This is done by running towards the bull and throwing their body to the side to avoid the horns at the last second. It's really scary to watch. After either three of four sets of these flags are placed in the bull's back, the the trumpets signal the final stage. The matador whose bull it is steps to the middle of the arena with a smaller cape and a sword. The goal for the matador is to tire the bull and then stab a sword into its back by running towards it and avoiding the horns. There is quite a bit of dramatics in this stage, as this is when the matador will be judged. If the sword does not stick, the dance must be redone until it does. As soon as this is over, all the other matadors come out and run the bull over and over again to tire it. This is done in an attempt to get the bull to kneel at the feet of the matador. This seems to be the final moment where the matador is appraised as good enough. After the bull kneels, one of the other matadors stab a small knife into the brain stem to fully kill it. Some horse then ride out and drag the body around and out of the arena to start the next fight. There were six fights, two for each matador.
It was informative to watch and listen to the natives around me while watching the sport. It was eye-opening to me to see that they treated it like Americans treat basketball or football. They were passing around plates of food, smoking cigars, and occasionally yelling something out to the arena. I felt like I was at some bizarre Superbowl party. Those around us were very kind though, and offered us their pastry plate.
I very much enjoyed the whole experience. I was very easily able to leave my views on the matter of animal cruelty at the door, and step into the Spanish paradigm. I would go back if I could. I am glad that this unique part of Spanish culture is still alive.