Lesson 2: There's no such thing as a "Lost and Found"

Sara's mom had bought us tickets to a bull fight for the day after we arrived in Bilbao. The bullfight was the ceremonial end to Aste Nagusia, also known as Semana Grande. It's a week long party in the streets of Bilbao that brings in people from all over the world. However, a bullfight is more than a show, its a dance of death. This gruesome yet reverent tradition is a large part of Spain's heritage, but it is even more prestigious to be invited to fight in Bilbao.

A fight has several processions. The first is just an opportunity for the crowd to judge the ferocity of the bull as it runs around the ring attacking fluttering capes. The second part is my least favorite part. The bull is forced to attack a man on a protected, blinded horse. The man stabs the bull twice in order to weaken him.

After the horses have left the ring, comes, in my opinion, the most athletically challenging portion of the fight. The bullfighter, or his assistant, must impale the bull by running and jumping around the horns while stabbing it in the back with two hand-held spears. This dangerous attempt is repeated three times, but don't think that the fighters aren't fearful. One fighter ran away from the bull and jumped out of the ring, followed by laughs and chants of course...

Next is the more recognized portion of the fight, the dance. When the bullfighter and bull twist and turn around a cape and a sword. This procession can last a while and depending on the strength of the bull, can be very frightening or very boring. A couple of fighters were injured during this portion, one by his own sword, the other got his arm too close to one of the bull's horns. Once the bull has been sufficiently worn down it is stabbed with the fighter's sword and then killed.

Bilbao is a proud Basque city and not every fighter receives a reward for their duty. The reward of course is either an ear or the tail of the bull after it has been killed. It is a great honor to receive a reward from the ring in Bilbao and is a token of your status as a great fighter. If the crowd believes the fighter deserves a reward they pull out a white handkerchief and wave it in the air. If the President of the Ring agrees he too will pull out his handkerchief and drape it along the banister in front of him. Out of three fighters and six fights, only one reward was given out, an ear to the final fighter.

Of course I took many pictures throughout the fight as evidence. However those pictures could not be uploaded on the computer, because I no longer have that camera. I had forgotten that it was under my seat, and by the time I had remembered (two minutes later) the camera was already gone. I had lost my camera within 24 hours of arriving in Bilbao. There is a strict policy in Spain: Finders, keepers; Losers, weepers.



La madre de Sara nos compro billetes a una corrida de toros para el dia despues de llegar en Bilbao. La corrida de toros era el fin ceremonia de Aste Nagusia . Es una semana de fiestas en las calles de Bilbao que se trae gente de todo el mundo. Sin embargo, una corrida de toros es mas que un espectaculo, es un baile de muerto. Esa 'tradicion dantesca y reverente es un gran parte de la herencia de Espana, pero es mas prestigioso se invita para luchar en Bilbao.

Bilbao es una ciudad orgullosa de Euskadi y no todos toreros reciben una recompensa para su servicio. Claro que si, la recompensa es una ereja o una cola del toro despues de matarlo. Es un gran honor a recibir una recompensa de la plaza de toros de Bilbao y es un vale de su posicion como un torero magnifico.

Si el publico crea que el torero se merece une recompensa ellos agitan panuelos blancos. Si El Presidente de la Plaza acceda, el colocara un panuelo blanco sobre el pasamanos esta enfrente de El. De cada tres toreros y seis luchas, se da solo una recompensa, una ereja al torero ultimo.

Claro, saque muchas fotos durante la corrida de toros como evidencia. Pero, estas fotos no estan aqui porque no tengo mi camara nada mas. Me la olvido que estuvo debajo de mi sillo, por el tiemp cuando me recuerdo (dos minutos luego), ya la camara no estuvo alli. En las primeras 24 horas que estaba en Bilbao, habia perdido mi camara. Hay una poliza estricta aqui: Buscadores, guardadores; Perdidores, lloradores.