Dodging the bull

As previously stated, this weekend was so Spanish. This doesn't include me and four other people huddled around a laptop on Thursday streaming The Hunger Games.


Bullfighting in Spain is a rich and artsy tradition. Think what you want of it, but the start of bull season here almost reminded me of opening day in the MLB. In front of the stadium people are selling you discounted drinks (necessary for gringos while watching a bull get stabbed to its death) and snacks and restaurant promoters are everywhere (though tailgating hasn't been picked up...yet).  In Sevilla the corridas began on Easter Sunday, and Friday's show was the second. I went with my host dad, and one of our neighbors and their americana.

Megan, our neighbor's americana, and I were both noticing how young all the torreros (matadors) looked. I was thinking oh yes, I saw you and your friends on Calle Betis last night. Turned out they looked so young because they were our peers. In fact, I have a few months on a couple of them.


Everyone dresses up at the corridas, kids are (per usual) running around and the tourists are just trying to figure out what the hell is going on. The injustice that so many Americans associate with bullfighting is flawed - they think, poor bull is going to die. But really what we all should be thinking is poor bull being teased and egged on while the city's fans cheer on its killer. The bull dies, yes, and it's arguably killed more justly than the cows that are keeping Five Guys in business.


It's a tough subject, but again, I think there are bigger problems in the world than bullfighting throughout the world. It's the type of injustice that I have no control over; no matter what I say the corridas del toro will still go on in Sevilla.


It's quite the spectacle. And really, the "spectacle" is what bothers me. When the matadors do an exceptionally good job, they get to keep one of the ears of the bull. The audience responds by cheering at the end and waving white handkerchiefs.

Spectators wave white handkerchiefs to symbolize the ear of the bull.

He's channeling his inner Dexter Morgan - just replace the ear with a slide of blood.

There were six bulls and three matadors. Music plays, beers are tossed around and people gasp and marvel at the art they see in bullfighting. Here are just a few pictures, if you really want a play by play just read Wikipedia. Or go to a bullfight yourself. I was lucky to be with Antonio (My señor? Let's call him my señora's husband instead.) because he's a huge fan of the corridas and was able to tell me every detail I asked.

I'd be that precise in my moves too if my pants were that tight.

And the bull is paraded around the ring after it drops to its knees (it literally drops). 

Saturday I went to Almaden de la Plata, a small town in the country about 40 miles outside Sevilla. It's amazing how short of a distance you can drive to find such a strikingly different landscape. 

My friend Mary Anne drove us out there, primarily to see a friend and the house he is selling. And what a beautiful house it was - complete with an amazing view of the road that peregrinos (pilgrims) take to Santiago in the north. He was more than hospitable, having irish coffee, tea and surprise! la cola del toro (bull tail) with rice waiting for us as we returned from our rainy hike. Funny that I was at the corrida the day before and then trying a Spanish delicacy of bull meat. Not too delicious by my standards, but the Andalucians love it. 


To top off this weekend just saturated with spanish-ness, I made paella with my señora for Sunday's lunch. It's super easy, except I found out a bit how it gets its distinct flavor aside from spices: shrimp skin and heads.

After beheading the shrimp and peeling the skin, boil the remains in water and let it simmer.

Sideways? Mince garlic, onion, tomatos and peppers and let it sizzle in olive oil.

And after adding the seafood to the veggies, add the rice and dashes of spices like paprika and saffron.

Instead of just plain water, use the water where the shrimp boiled. Strain the bodies, of course, and let the paella cook for 25 minutes. Don't forget to add lemon at the end!

I'm really lucky to have a señora that allows me in her kitchen and lets me see what she does 60% of her day. I hope I can cook like she does, and have the enthusiasm that she does about cooking Mediterranean foods. I will not be like her, however, and iron my husband's socks and undies. Sorry baby.