Comprando y Matando

This Sunday, we explored El Mercado del Rastro, an open air market that has been in Madrid every Sunday and festival day since 1740 (thanks, Wikipedia).  Sophie and Hannah learned of the etymology of the name at work ("They explained it a bunch of times, and we finally caught something about dead animals and blood").  The name "Rastro" meaning trail or trace,  was given to the market because the dead animals being carried to the tannery in the area left trails of blood on the streets.  Walking from stall to stall with our bags tucked firmly under our arms, we found astonishing amounts of clothes, jewelry, tapestries (all of which can be viewed in Hannah's dorm room next year), books, CDs, records, movies, leather goods, fans, and plates, all relatively cheap.  It was amazing to see the sheer volume of things that were offered at the market, and it was interesting to see an open air market that was so large, and extended through such a large area of the neighborhood.  After wandering around the market in the oppressive heat for a while, we went to lunch, and then the group separated until later that evening.

In our downtime, Sophie and I decided to wander through some parts of Madrid that we hadn't been to before, and (mostly by chance), stumbled upon two cathedrals, a garden, the Royal Palace, some more jewelry kiosks where we both fell prey to the combined temptations of our love for jewelry, and some very low prices, a movie theater, an Irish sports bar, and Starbucks.   Finally, we made our way back to Sol to meet Pete for the evening entertainment--a bullfight.

The bullfight, though not quite how I expected it, was very interesting to see.  While it was hard to avoid the cold truth that every bull that entered the ring was first prodded and stabbed by the picadors, then teased, and finally killed by the matador, the movements of the matador made it seem almost like a dance.  There was a great deal of pomp and circumstance, with trumpets playing every time another bull entered the ring, and the colorful costumes worn by everyone, even the men whose job it was to hitch the bull to the ropes used to drag its body out of the ring.  The crowd added another different element to the show.  While I think most of the crowd was, like ourselves, tourists, there were some devoted bull-fighting Spaniards in the crowd.  One of whom, sitting right next to us, often yelled in frustration at the matador things such as "hay que hacer más" (do more) and "que pesado es" (how annoying).  And finally, once the matador established a rhythm, taunting the bull into charging from side to side, the crowd would yell "Olé" as the bull ran, again and again, into the empty air.

All in all, while it is hard to reconcile with what happens to the bulls in the ring, watching the bull fight was a good experience, and I am glad I went.