A colourful toreador in his finery in the afternoon sun.
We were in the cheap seats, what the Americans call the bleachers. We all need shade and this woman uses her programme.
This guy ingeniously uses a flyer as a makeshift cap.
This was the first (and only) time I ever went to the bullfighting. It is striking how much time is taken to prepare the bull for the final encounter.
It takes immense precision to disable these magnificent creatures. Dramatic!
The expensive seats. See if you can spot the woman with the elaborate haircut.
Like at a boxing match, the name, age, and weight of the bull is announced before they emerge.
“Hey, you’re going the wrong way.” What I imagine the toreador is saying to the bull as it runs towards a protestor.
This man was protesting that it was unfair not to allow older men to be matadors, not that bullfighting is cruel.
The Picador emerges like a figure from Don Quixote. There purpose is to fatigue the bull so that its head is lowered and its charge is straighter.
It’s a spiritual day out, bullfighting. Death is always possible. People feel for the matador risking their life to symbolically show man is superior to beast.
Mulilleros drag the bull out of the bullring. Areneros clean the ring of blood.
Iván Fandiño, who was later gored to death by a bull. See a video of him below. He didn’t do well and it felt like an elaborate torture.
