When I was in Barcelona, I really wasn't interested in seeing a bullfight. Besides, it's the Castillians that have the bloody bullfights as we know them. The Cataloninans and the Provencals' bullfights consisted of placing and removing a flower from the bulls' curly horns.

Of course, the Castillians have been in charge of Catalunya for hundreds of years, so you still can see a bloody bullfight. The shaded section was all sold out, and the partially shaded section was about $40 USD. So I didn't want to go. My Japanese friend M really had her heart set on it. Besides, our Catalan friend E insisted that we go. You go and see how cruel and violent those Castillians are! she said. So we bought a bottle of Sangre de Toro, paid our $40 USD and found our seats on the top row of the partially shaded section.

If you want a good description, read Hemmingway. I'm not Hemmingway.

So this is how it went. They played the fanfare, and the junior varsity torero came out. First he enraged the bull with his taunting. Then he stuck the pokers in the bull's dorsal fin. Tons of them. Finally he pulled out the sword and tried to stick it into the bull's spine so he dies. Of course the jv torero wasn't so smooth. Actually, he missed a couple times. The Spanish spectators started getting wrestless; they started whispering disapprovingly to each other, and some even whistled--a euro boo. His mama was sitting below; she yelled "kill it! kill it!" Finally, after way too long and way too much suffering on the bull's part, the sword went in correctly, and the bull collapsed.

After some rodeo clowns, the next act was the varsity torero. From where we were, he looked just the same as the jv torero, but he was much smoother. He had a move that made it look like the bull was wraped around his body like a big meat towel. It was very graceful. He placed each poker methodically and dispached the bill with the sword by the book. There was never a doubt. Spanish machismo conquers nature. Spanish machismo, dressed in ruffles and stretch pants.

More rodeo clowns, and then the mounted torero came out. He was basically the same as the first two, only mounted on a horse. He didn't get as close to the bull, but he had to really control the horse and it's fear of the bull. Poke, poke, poke, poke, stab. No problem.

By now it was halftime; the shade was now falling on our section, and M and I were a little tipsy. I had seen three bulls die so far; two more to go. By this point, I really wasn't interested. Besides the varsity torero who wraped the bull around himself like a towel, I didn't see anything that was technically impressive. Basically, it was a ritual slaughter. Of course, the Castillanos were digging it, as each round affirmed their world.

Act II, and jv torero was up again. This time he was blowing it; he might have tried a dozen times to sink the sword into the bull's spine; a couple times, he left it sticking halfway out. It was awful. No whistling this time; people were actually yelling "toro! toro!" meaning they were rooting for the bull to win. Except for his mama, who was yelling 'kill it!'.

Finally he killed it, the clowns came out, and then it was varsity torero's turn. Everyone was excited. This, the last bull of the night, was the biggest, squarest, blackest bull of the day. Varsity torero was brilliant, of course, wrapping the bull around his body like a towel around his waist. That is, until the bull's horn caught the varsity toreros' crotch. He was down for a moment, and then he got up screaming and holding his crotch and ran to the tunnel. Some clowns came out to cover for him. Meanwhile, the bull is pissed off.

So after a second, jv torero, torturer of two toros, came out to save the day and finish off that bull. The Spanish audience felt cheated, but M and I were pretty amused. And a little drunk.

Finally, the ritual slaughter was over, and M and I exited excitedly. E was there to greet us. See how they are, she asked, are you totally disgusted? M and I had to be honest; when everything was going as planned, we were bored. But when there was a little danger and injury, well, that made it interesting. We never found out what happened to varsity torero.