A Japanese Woman, a Gorge, A Bull (Last Weekend)

Last Saturday I visited Ronda, a white-hill town outside of Sevilla known for its beautiful views, massive gorge, and old bridge. All of my friends were either in Lagos for the weekend or studying for our upcoming exams, so I headed out on my own. About an hour into the bus ride, the Japanese woman sitting next to me asked me “¿De dónde eres?” (Where are you from? in Spanish). I rattled off in the Andaluz accent I have been practicing since arriving, and she gave me the blank stare that I am sure I have often given native Spanish speakers. I repeated it, more slowly, and we started talking. Turns out she was learning Spanish and was in Spain for 3 weeks traveling. She told me all about her travels in Spain and elsewhere, and I shared travel stories as well. As I was staring out the window thinking how amazing it was that a Japanese woman from Tokyo and an American girl from the Midwest were able to communicate in Spanish, a language that is neither of our native languages, she leaned over me and offered me her dried sardines.

The whole reason I went to Ronda was to hike down the gorge above which there is a giant, beautiful, bridge. The first half of the hike down, the part you are actually supposed to hike down, was relatively easy aside from the absolutely scorching heat. When I got down to the part where you are supposed to stop, there was a great lookout point of the beautiful waterfall, gorge, and bridge. I couldn’t stop there though, so I continued down a very narrow path, having to crawl under burr-covered trees, climb down cliffs (no joke), and jump over fallen trees. I finally came to the old foundation of a house, where there was an even better view of the scenery, one worth the climb. After admiring it for a while, I continued walking until I came to a mini-gorge. Someone had laid a board down in order to cross the gorge, and I decided to brave it and walk across that as well. Oddly enough, it wasn’t until I had precariously made my way across the board that I decided I shouldn’t keep going. At this point, the path become just wide enough for one shoe and was barely hugging the cliff. I decided that especially since I was alone, whatever view I would have would not be worth risking my life for. The climb back up was a challenging one, especially in the heat, but I finally made it up and rewarded myself with my bag lunch in a little shaded plaza looking over the valley below. The rest of the day was spent just wandering around and enjoying the city as well as hanging out in parks and relaxing. It was a great day.

The following Sunday, I went to my first Bullfight in the Plaza de Toros in Sevilla. I was expecting to absolutely hate it, which is most likely why I enjoyed it so much. If you can get past that it is cruel to animals, and that it is rather gross, you can appreciate and enjoy the tradition and emotion behind it all. Watching the bullfighters as they sauntered up to the bull, ready to “dance” with it, their lips pursed in this weird way was all too entertaining.

We were not watching professional bullfighters, but rather the ones closer to our ages that are training to become professionals. Because of this, we were able to see a bit more action. We were amazed to see how they start off, kneeling right in front of where the bulls are released, remaining that way until the bulls charge past them and at their cape. On one of these rounds however, there was a bit of a problem, and instead of charging past the bullfighter, it charged right and him, and he actually had to jump right over the bull. The speed at which he reacted was incredibly impressive.

As my Señora had explained to me, when a bullfighter does a particularly good job (getting the bull to run around him in a circle without moving and killing the bull with just one stab), the audience waves white handkerchiefs to signify that they want the bullfighter to get the bull’s ear. We were able to see this happen, and the boy’s reaction when he killed the bull with one blow was one of complete happiness. The crowd of course went wild, waving their hankies, and the master of ceremonies cut off the bull’s ear, handed to the bullfighter, and he paraded around the ring waving the ear bank and forth as the audience threw their sombreros into the ring. It was quite the moment to be a part of. One of the other bullfighters was not quite so lucky, and aside from the fact that the sword he tried to jab into the bull’s back was thrown from the bull and into the audience area, he was thrown by the bull (rammed into and then thrown around on the bull’s back) not once, but twice. As bad as it is for me to say, that was one of my favorite moments. Overall, I really enjoyed the bullfight and all the tradition it entails, and I am glad we suffered threw the blazing heat (tickets in the sun are significantly cheaper) and random gross moments when blood spurted from the bulls back to take part in such a storied tradition.