Blood in the Sand (pt.1)

This is my first bullfight.  I am thrilled. The odd thing which seems to be an underlying theme through the whole affair is that it falls on Good Friday.  The question on everyone’s lips is, “Can you kill a bull on Good Friday?”  I don’t know I am not Catholic.  As far as I can tell though, there is no biblical law against bullfighting on Good Friday.  For me, this is a big day.

The fight is not until 8pm, and we are to meet some new ‘friends’ at a small cantina which is famous for seafood.  I hate seafood.  I agree to go under the condition that I eat a big late lunch and just sit there and smile when we meet our new friends.  There are more important things at hand though, like making sure I get film, charge my cameras and unpack some boxes in the house.

House chores first, and my first duty is to undo a table lop from the legs.  I ask Tonya to lend a hand and we flip the table and start to dismantle it.  The seasoned handyman that I am, I had forgotten to think about my feet below the table top.  As I am reaching over the table standing upright on its side, I undo the screws holding the top.  As the last screw is coming loose I hear a loud bang and an incredible pain across both feet, straight across all my toes.  It takes a second or two to realize just what this pain is; the table top has fallen right on top of my toes.  I look at Tonya, drop my screwdriver, wedge my feet from beneath the table top and plop down to the ground.  Not saying a word, I pull my shoes and socks off expecting blood and guts.  “Are you OK?” Tonya says from behind the table.  I am wiggling my toes to make sure all is ok, and she asks ‘What happened?  Did that just fall on your toes?”  My silence and her seeing me on the floor answered her question.  “Let me see your feet.  Are they bleeding?  Are your toes OK?” she asks as I raise my foot to show her.  My big toe looks like a plum with blood beneath the nail. It’s gross, but not as gross as I expected. What the hell-I have a bullfight to go to.  It’s Pablo Hermoso de Mendoza, the greatest Rejoneador (bullfighter on horseback), and now I have throbbing, bruised and battered toes.  Is this God’s way of saying ‘No bullfights on Good Friday!’?

I limp away to the den and prop my throbbing feet up.  Tonya comes in with some ice and says that is it for my house duties today.  I put my busted toes up and stare at them and hope they don’t let me down this evening.

Our appointed time rolls around to go meet our new friends at the seafood joint. I have gotten my cameras together and grabbed my camera bag and we start our evening.  Out the front door I ask if we should walk or take a cab.  “Look!  There is a cab coming up the street” Tonya says as she points down the street.  As he gets closer we see that he has a passenger.  He rolls passed and we look at one another, “I guess we’re walking then” I say as I hobble alongside Tonya.  Our journey is across the town center and all uphill.  With a bruised and throbbing bulbous big toe, it is no fun. I feel like peg leg or something slowly making my way up the cobblestoned streets. 

We see our friends in the corner and they wave at us as we walk in.  The hellos are exchanged and we sit down.  They are already eating, and Tonya orders up some food.  We order a round of drinks and start the drivel of what everyone did today. “I dropped a table top on my feet!” I said. 

We met our new pals a few nights ago and we both agree that the boyfriend is kind of a jerk.  He’s come here to be a screen writer and he has a small blue stoned stud in his left ear.  When he talks, he kind of talks out of the side of his mouth and it is usually rubbish; like some sort of philosophy or New Age crap. He informs us that he’s giving a three part talk of the three major stages of Yoga.  Good thing he can’t read my mind, because I would have just told him he’s full of sh*t. He likes to inform everyone that he’s a practicing Hindu. Whatever.  The girlfriend is sweet.  If it were not for her, we wouldn’t be sitting with this guy now.  I have no idea why, but as Tonya is eating her food she asks if I want some. It’s pointless because she knows I hate seafood.  The talk bounces back and forth as plates come and go and we wind down the clock until fight time.  As it nears 8pm, the boyfriend and I are arguing over slavery in American history versus Mexican history. He’s one of these lefty-types who think America is the blight on the world and I disagree.  I call him out on some of his misinformation about the great Mexican culture and notice that his girlfriend is hanging her head and Tonya keeps wiping her face with a napkin.  She’s sweating and very uncomfortable.  I do not want this to blow up, so I agree with some nonsense he’s spouting off and find a way to change the subject.  After all, it is 8pm and I do not want to be late to my first bullfight.  We pay up, get up and get out.  As we stand in the street his girlfriend is taking some snaps of the surroundings and I make some small talk to ease things over.  Thankfully, the bullring is not far away and it is downhill.

We bought ‘cheap seats’, or as the girl at the ticket place politely informed Tonya, we bought tickets that are for “the lower class”.  Our friend told us that the ring is so small that any seat is a good seat.  As we walk into the ‘lower class’ section and up the ramp I see the whole ring. It is small. It looks great and I am excited.  We make our way up to our seats, which is really just a series of concrete rings.  The high priced seats are the same, just closer and bent rebar is the only thing which separates each seat.  I get my cameras together as a lady sits down in front of us with her friends and I over hear them talking. This is the second oldest bullring in the whole of Mexico. Nice to know.  I am seeing the ultimate horseback bullfighter in the second oldest bullring in the country.   Still, I wish I could have seen a fight in the biggest ring in the country in Mexico City. 

The house band.

I turn behind me to talk to the annoying boyfriend.  I ask him questions about the fights and some trivial bits.  He says the matadors have 15 minutes to kill a bull, and each one takes on two bulls. I don’t say it, but that seems like a lot of bulls in an hour an a half. “There will be six bulls killed tonight” he says proudly.  Nothing has even happened and Tonya is already nervous.  She has been to a bullfight before but when she was a kid.  She doesn’t know if she can stomach it.  The people around her reassure her that everything will be fine and to just concentrate on the horseback rider. “He’s marvelous!” the lady says in front of us.  She turns and says she has seen him several times, “And he’s so handsome. He’s gorgeous” Everyone in town has said this guy is something to see; even people back in Mexico City speak of the fame of this fighter.  I feel privileged, even if I am sitting on concrete with a throbbing toe and a nutty Hindu from the Midwest.  A band starts playing across the ring and everyone starts cheering.  I suppose it is almost show time.   I have no idea what is about to unfold in front of me but I have been looking forward to this night since I fist arrived in Mexico.

The Matadors (or Toreros) parade out as does the bullfight queen. I suppose she is the bullfight queen because she is adorned in a special costume and the only woman in the ring.  They come out and the crowd roars.  They‘re waving and slowly make their way around the whole ring so the crowd can get a good look.  These are the toreros, the guys who will face the bulls tonight. The ‘matador’ is the master fighter, or the main one who will kill the bull.  After they parade around, the queen goes away and the chosen toreros take their places around the ring.

The Bullfight Queen and Toreros

Sign guy

A guy walks out in the middle of the ring with a sign.  He looks kind of sloppy…at least in the sense that he wears no special costume or anything that separates him from anyone of the crowd.  He holds the sign up.  It shows the bull’s name, his number and his weight.  The first bull is named ‘Pasion’, and he weighs a hefty 480 kilos.  Our seats are above and a bit off centered of the main entrance into the ring, so we can’t see the bulls coming.  A cheer goes up and then a bull is seen running into the ring.  He runs around the ring, charging at the scattered matadors who are spread out around the ring.  If he chooses a certain man and charges him, the crowd cheers with delight.

I am immediately struck with a sort of uneasiness watching this newly released bull.  He runs around the ring confused. He is disoriented. He runs aimlessly then stops and takes in all that is around him.  In a strange way, I feel sad for this confused creature.  There are bright costumed figures all around him, many more watching from above, and he has no clue what is about to happen.  Everyone is yelling and he doesn’t know what to do.  A random fighter steps out and waves his cape to get the bull’s attention. He just stands and stares.  Sometimes this works, other times it doesn’t.  It doesn’t take too long before the seasoned participants realize this bull is going to be a bit ‘difficult’.  He won’t charge. He won’t run.  This is my first fight, so I can’t tell if he is scared, stubborn or really sly.  Different fighters step out and wave their capes.  He looks at them but doesn’t budge.  A fighter gets brave and walks closer to the bull.  He reacts and it draws a cheer.  The bull runs a short while then stops.  I watch his head and I can see him scanning the ring, looking at almost every spot where a fighter is standing.  “This is not good” says the annoying boyfriend from behind me. “He won’t charge. He won’t fight.  This is not going to be good” His sentiments are starting to be echoed by those surrounding us.  Even the lady in front of me says that they should get a different bull, because this one will not fight.  The men in the ring get more assertive and try to get closer to the bull to draw him out and get him going.  It is their job to start wearing him out so that the featured Matador can do his job, but they are making a sloppy show of it.  The beer has emboldened the crowd and they start taunting the men in the ring, yelling insults.

Placing the banderillas

The Picador comes in to the displeasure of the crowd

After a few minutes a Picador comes out into the ring.  He rides a horse that is covered in protective padding and will take his ‘pica’ or spear, and stab it into the back of the bull’s neck to start the weakening process.  This picador seems anxious, as he is out and at the bull in no time.  The crowd hisses with disapproval.  The picador doesn’t mind.  He stabs the bull and the crowd boos.  He goes again and stabs the bull in his side, which elicits a huge disapproval form the crowd.  The bull is wounded and disoriented.  He’s obviously angry and makes for the picador.  In the blink of an eye, the bull is at the horse and trying to gore it.  The rider has fallen off and the crowd is screaming.  The horse falls and the bull is at it with its horns in full force.  The women in front of me are frightened, and are saying that they have rarely seen this.  Toreros run into the ring and rescue the horse by distracting the bull.  It is unsettling for all.  This bull is not making it easy for the fighters, and the crowd is upset because he has been unfairly wounded.  He wonders the ring in a daze, and pools of blood stand where he stops to gaze around the ring. A torero comes to confront him and the bull charges, taking the cape from the fighter.  The crowd cheers, “Toro, Toro, Toro”.  I too, feel a bit excited that the animal is getting back at the fighters.  He makes his way around the ring and a group of three toreros converge on him.  He’s very confused, tries to charge and stumbles and falls into the dirt.  The crowd lets out a gasp, they are obvious upset that the bull is having such a hard time and many patrons are yelling that this is an unfair fight.  People around me are saying this is not right, and they should kill him quickly and not make him suffer.  The crowd almost goes silent, with a subtle muttering floating above head. This is not enjoyable and it is not the way a fight should start.  The bull stumbles around and without much of a fight; he is taken down with a stab.  It was quiet enough to actually hear the sound of the sword punching in behind the bulls shoulder.  There is no cheer, but just a layer of mumbling of disapprovals.  The matador raises his hands in victory and the crowd boos.

I am confused.  I thought these events were full of pageantry, majesty and showmanship.  This is off to a rough start, like it is hackneyed amateurs and a cruel game.  The bull falls and the toreros surround him.  Another torero in blue comes out with a knife of some sort, he walks to the bull that is lying in the dirt, and he takes one last stab into the bulls back (into the heart).  He walks away with no glory.  This has been a messy affair.  The crowd is disgusted with the first torero and it all ends in shambles.  As the slain bull lays on the side of the ring with blood pooling around it, the concession men suddenly appear and yelling begins for ‘beer, wine, tequila, snacks’ and others are waving cushions, calendars and other souvenirs.

Dead bull aside, it's time for snacks!

The whole thing was messy and disappointing. I feel very uneasy and somewhat sick.  There is no respect for this bloodied bull in the dirt. He’s gone, done away with, and now its time for beer.  I can’t believe that after this very disheartening affair that the huge animal just lies dying on the side of the ring and everyone is back to business.  Tonya has gotten up and turned her back to the whole affair.  She would remain this way for the remainder of the event.  The women in front of me shake their heads and the annoying boyfriend says this was “not good”.  Some men run out into the ring and prep to bull to be hauled off.  Two more men in big sombreros come out with two giant black horses.  They go to the bull and tie him to a small triangular wedge of wood, and before I realize it, they drag the sweaty, muscle-bound corpse disgracefully out of the ring.

Removing the bull

What next?  What am I suppose to feel?  Where was the majesty, the elegance the pageantry?  I turn to the boyfriend and say, “That was crap!  I have never been to one of these before, but those guys were hackneyed amateurs.  What was that?”

I stare at my feet and my cameras.  There is dust all over my camera bag now.  I have no idea what to think, all I know is that there is an empty feeling in my gut. I feel sick…but from deep, deep inside. I feel dirty, like I have just seen something you are not supposed to see.  I feel like this whole night is tarnished already.  I turn back to Tonya and see if she is OK.  She shrugs her shoulders.


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