The French bulls die of “Old Age”…right???

A few nights before our arrival in Provence we watched a travel video that highlighted a French Bullfight and stressed how the French bulls “Die of Old Age” and the matadors spend their time jumping walls to escape the mad bulls (no killing involved).  So knowing we were doing a road trip soon we got on the internet and found a bullfight in Nimes for the 19th.  After translating the French only website, we had a confirmation in hand for tickets in the Haute A section…not cheap at 60 Euros each but for a once in a lifetime experience…priceless.

We checked into our beautiful Hotel “Le Pre Gallofre”, a refurbished French farmhouse.  We were informed that there was a free shuttle to the stadium from a nearby parking lot.  So we hopped on and when everyone else got off so did we (not a good travel tip but…)  And voila, there was the stadium.  It was magnificent (better preserved than the one in Rome).  The “will call” window was on a nearby street and not at the stadium so it took us a bit to find Street 6 but then we had tickets in hand. 

I was so excited to actually experience a bullfight in an old Roman Stadium that people experienced bullfights in over 2000 years ago.  The pomp and circumstance was inviting and breathtaking.  This part of the bullfight is called the Corrida.  The matadors wore their brightly colored ceremonial garb and the sun glistened against the sequins.  Our seats were awesome other than the smoke coming from all directions as the French are still allowed to smoke in public places.

I should have known something was up when we noticed spears hanging on the wall across the stadium.

Then came in the bull.  He tore up the gate upon his entrance so you knew it was going to be a good fight.  There were three matadors with pink capes.  They are called banderilleros or capeadores.  They seemed to be “playing” the bull and whenever he charged them, they got to hide behind the blind that protected them.    Next entered the horses covered in armor with the Picador dressed in Gold proudly riding on top with the spear in hand.  The bull seemed very attracted to the armor and headed straight for it engaging its horns right into the side of the horse (which was protected by all the armor).  My worst fears then came true as the Picador rammed the bull with the spear in the top of the back.  WARNING…don’t read on unless you are prepared.  Then the blood was squirting out the hole in the back of the bull dripping down his back.

In comes THE MATADOR.  He performs his statuesque ritual while the crowd roars and he throws off his hat…game on.   

He has the red cape and proceeds to play the bull although the bull is tiring.  The three Banderilleros come back into the ring, each with two short-brightly colored spears in hand.  They proceed one at a time to call the bull to their pink capes and stab him with their barbed darts. The crowd roars “Ole”with each passing of the cape.  They are clapping madly.  I hide my eyes.  So now the bull has been stabbed with six more darts that stay in him.  The red-caped matador re-appears and the crowd is tense.  He plays the bull some more…more “Ole”.  Then he pulls out his first sword and hits the what now seems to be the target on the back of the bull...apparently trying to reach the bulls heart.  Out comes a second sword with a cross near the tip which ends up directly in the bulls neck and spinal cord area which immediately falls the bull.  I think John and I were the only ones NOT clapping at this point.

I am in TOTAL emotional shut down at this point.  The crowd is again cheering, the men down below have brought in the horses and a hitch to drag out the bull and others are shoveling the sand to cover all the blood.  Ready for round number two.

I could have left then but John was not moving and I didn’t want to hang out in a strange city all by myself so I stay.  UNBELIEVABLE…or STUPID.

We watch two more of these events.  The second matador misses with his second sword and the bull is moaning…I am moaning.  People are jeering this time but he finishes the job shortly.  The third matador also misses a few times and it was time to GO.  I don’t know how many more times this occurred that night but I was an emotional mess…just really wanted to cry. 

John and I go to eat…I have a salmon salad…no beef tonight for me.  When we are finished with dinner the show is obviously over.  The streets are blocked off from vehicles, the bars are all prepared with their bullfight decor and their loud music just waiting for the riled up crowd to start drinking more.

We found our free bus back to the car feeling sad and defeated.  This is only my take on the whole situation. I am planning on researching the ceremonial aspects of why they do what they do when I have good internet.