Las Ventas - La Plaza de Torros

"Bullfighting is the only art in which the artist is in danger of death and in which the degree of brilliance in the performance is left to the fighter's honor." -Ernest Hemingway

I think this afternoon has been the perfect example of a juxtaposition of emotions. I went to Las Ventas, which is the "Plaza of the Bulls" where they hold the bullfights in Madrid. The outside of the building is absolutely beautiful. The architecture is completely different from that of the rest of Madrid. We went to see the bullfight because it is a very big cultural event in Spain. Considering the fact that there were little children in the stands, I figured it wouldn't be so bad, I was completely wrong. It was probably the most inhumane thing I have ever witnessed with my own eyes. I guess its good that after this I planned on going to church because after feeling so much pain for the animals it was nice to have a bit of serenity.

So this is a bit of what happens at a bullfight. The history traces itself to bull worship and sacrifice. The oldest representation of what appears to be a bullfight was found in Spain. It is a cave painting called "El Toro de Hachos." Some say it was introduced by Emperor Claudius during a short span on gladiator type human vs. human games. Either way, it is a piece of Spanish history that even many spaniards, including the Queen, dislike. Others, consider it to be a ritual between the man and the bull judged by the fans based upon artistic impressions and command.

It begins with all of those involved in the fight, those on horseback, the toreros (the actual fighters), the medics, ect. (Because occasionally, one of the toreros is injured or killed during the fight.) The first of six bulls then comes out, with a tassel sticking out of its back, and is taunted by the toreros with bright pink and gold capote (the cape). The torero along with three members of his cuadrilla (team) called bandarillos taunt the bull for some time. This is the first round. Like the first, the second is begun with a trumpet sound and two more members of the cuadrilla, the picadores or lancers come out on horseback. They stab the bull in the back with the lance to weaken it. The worst part about this is that they hold it there for a solid amount if time, with the lance in its back, and you watch the bull struggle and fight and attempt to hit the horse standing next to it. After this, the bandarillos each taunt the torro (bull) with red and white decorations that they stick into the bulls back as it runs past them. By the end of round two, the white has turned red, because the bull is bleeding rather profusely from its upper shoulders. Finally, in the third stage, begun with a trumpet sound, mozo de espada (sword holder) and the final member of the cuadrilla, gives a sword and a red capote to the torero. He performs a number of flourishes as the bull runs past him, passing very close to his body each time. He taunts the bull and makes jesters, provoking cheers from the audience.

The bullring has a chapel in it with a priest, where the torero can pray before the match and where last rites can be given if needed. The third stage of the fight is the most dangerous, and is the reason why there are surgeons in Spain who specialize in treating cornadas or horn wounds. The object of this stage is to kill the bull in one thrust of the sword, two is barely considered acceptable. The matador will be booed if he does not perform the classical technique that puts him in extreme danger as he passes less than inches from the bulls horns and thrusts his sword into the bulls back, between the clavicles and through the aorta.

All in all, I was able to sit through two bull killings, not all six. It is difficult to see, though I don't regret going. It was nice to go for a long walk afterwards, run into a parade featuring different dances from all of the spanish speaking countries of south america (odd, I thought) and finally made it to mass.

München, Deutschland

Oktoberfest is the biggest public festival in the world. The first was held in October of 1810, to honor the marriage of King Ludwig and Princess Therese. It has now turned into a 16 day excuse for the people of Germany and around the world to don the traditional German dress, Lederhosen for the men and Dirndl for the women, and drink unlimited amounts of beer for 16 days. The festival starts with a 12 gun salute as the first keg is tapped and the mayor shouts O’zaptf is! Which means It’s tapped.

Munich was basically the most beautiful city I have ever seen. Germany was so clean, cultural, and friendly. Also, the traffic lights turn yellow after red, but before green. How weird. Anyway, this festival really is a go big or go home type party. The berhalls open at 10:30 am and people start drinking ASAP. The rides are fun and the beer is basically the best I have ever tasted, which may not mean much, but considering it’s the only beer I have ever liked, maybe it does. I did learn a few things on the trip though.  Italians have this crazy pride that honestly becomes really annoying when they don’t like you the second they find out youre not from Italy. I did get asked on a few occasions if I was from Italy, which I guess is a bit amusing.

Imagine a room full of thousands of people, singing at the top of their lungs in German, dancing on the tables, huge mugs of beer in every person’s hand, while they slosh around their cups and laugh with their friends. It is the hottest and loudest environment I have ever been in, and I loved every second of it. At night things get crazy as the lights come on and the crazy drunken mass of people sing and dance in the streets just because. It was amazing. While nothing crazy happened to me, we all know it never really does, the whole thing was more fun than anyone can imagine.

This is not Spain, This is not France, This is Basque

So I am finally sitting down to write this blog despite the piles of homework sitting in front of me, but why change my habits just because Im in Spain... procrastination is a lifestyle. So this weekend I went to a small city on the Northwest coast of Spain. It is very very close to France but it is in what is called Basque country.

Here is a bit of Spanish history for you... Spain has been occupied by a number of different cultures, religions, and peoples over its thousands of years. It was taken over by the Muslims (Los Moros) at one point and eventually Spain was ruled by a Castallano king. Castallano is the name for the language known today as Spanish, but it is by no means the only language spoken in this country. It is not even the oldest. Various provinces in Spain speak different dialects or different languages all-together. The Basque Country is one of those areas that speaks a language totally different from Castilian Spanish. It is called Basque and is NOTHING like Spanish. These people have excessive pride in their home and are currently looking to become their own nation. It is a topic of much controversy here in Spain and while in San Sebastian we witnessed some nationalism that those people should really be proud of.

We stayed in the Parte Vieja, which is the old part of the city. It is beautiful. We were told that one of the churches here has the only black madonna inside. We never ended up seeing that, but it is an interesting fact. We spent our days at the beach, walking around the city taking pictures, a bit of shopping (some of this is some serious high end stuff, which we avoided accordingly), hiking, and plenty of eating.

This was the most beautiful place I have ever seen in my entire life. The water was aqua blue (not quite as blue as Hawaii, I will admit) and the sand was clean and soft. We hiked up this small mountain type hill which has a huge statue of Jesus on top and we watched the sunset over the inlet. It was breathtaking. We also experienced a bit of typical Basque food and drink. In most of Spain, many people go out at night for dinner around ten and they have Tapas. In Basque Country, they have what are called Pintxos. This is a Basque word pronounced peen-ch-o's. (The Tx is a ch sound... so on the little train thing in the square, instead of saying choo choo it said txu txu.) They are single finger sandwiches or tapas type food and are AMAZING. I honestly have no idea what is in them, I just picked them and ate them. You walk into these Pintxos bars that are so crowded you can barely stand and the food is all on plates on the counter. You take a plate, and pick one of whatever you want (they are really small) and you just kind of eat standing there and pay and leave. They are like 1.5 euro each. We also drank a lot of wine, which was really cheap. We tried a wine from the Basque Country. I experienced tuna with bones and squid, not fried, but cooked in its own ink. Both were amazing. I also tried two drinks typical of Basque country, one was a cider, or Sidre. It is poured really high from a bottle and I dont know how to describe the taste (it tastes nothing like apple). I also tried another drink which is red wine and coke. It sounds gross but its awesome and completely worth trying.

So all in all, the trip was amazing and I think I understand why the most expensive reality in Spain is along these beaches. I would live there in a heartbeat.

Es usted de Espana?

It has been a pretty crazy rollercoaster these past few days. We had two days of orientation, which was absolutely boring. One of the girls who lives with me is really nice, we get along well. The other one, who happens to be my roommate, I don’t like so much. There isn’t one specific thing that I can say that I don’t like about her, but just being in her presence in general makes the homesickness so much worse. I know that sounds petty and that I should just try to be friends with her, but I know I cant. I love my Señora and her family. She is very funny and likes to tell us stories and act them out. She also enjoys telling us how much she hates her oldest daughter’s boyfriend. I guess some things are the same everywhere.

I did make a few good friends at school. I think my best friend thus far is a girl named Alana. She is German, but she lives in Switzerland. I like having a non-American to hang around because her values are much more similar to mine than most of the American girls here. It is actually kind of funny because when we go out I get asked every time if I am from Madrid. Everyone thinks that I am European and that she is American which is pretty funny.

Thursday night we went to a club called JOY. In Europe, no one really gets drunk, except for Americans, which is sort of refreshing, but funny because you see the Americans completely embarrassing themselves. We ended up at the same club Friday night and while standing outside, I ended up talking to a Brazilian guy who works as a club promoter. He put us on the guest list and we got in free. He gave us his number so that we never have to pay to get in, all we have to do is let him know we are coming and our names will be on the list. When we got in we saw another promoter, I think he is a manager or something, who we met the night before. He came up to greet us and took us right to the bar for free drinks and also gave us his number so that we can get it without a problem. It is kind of funny because all of the bars have promoters standing outside looking for Americans to get into their bars, because they buy the most drinks. They will bring you in and offer you a free drink because they think you’ll stay and buy more. So anyway, the nightlife is pretty crazy, we have been told it is the best in all of Europe and so far, I think I understand why (no one goes home before 4 or 5 am).

Finally, the one other cultural and interesting thing I did was go to a Tapas bar. Tapas are little snacks that you eat when you have a drink at one of these bars. The word comes from the verb Tapar which means to cover. A long time ago they used to go to the bar for a drink, and in order to keep the flies out of the drink they would cover it with a small plate of food, usually nuts or something like that. Tapas are no longer put over drinks and are not nuts either. They have all kinds of different ones. One of the famous ones is tortilla de patatas. It is a cake type thing made of egg and potato. It is actually kind of good. We ordered a bunch of different ones and shared. It was an interesting experience. Also, if you want to see my pictures from my trip to Pedraza, which I didn’t talk about but its explained in the pictures, you can go to my flickr page which is www.flickr.com/photos/mpotenza.