Bull Sh*t

As I mentioned in the previous entry, I went to a bullfight last Monday. Now, I've been to bullfights in the past; both here in Peru and in Costa Rica as well. It seems to me that they have a pattern: First, they start off slow by just letting some of the bulls run around to kind of warm up the crowed. Then, the farm boys come in and show off some of the skills they've accumulated working in the pasture. After that, maybe, the “professionals” (guys who are dressed pretty but don't really do anything) make a few passes. Usually, this causes the crowed to “boo”. Finally, the drunk guys manage to get their blood alcohol levels up high enough to enter the ring. And that, my friends, is when things can get a little interesting.

With the cerveza, cañaso, or other homemade liquor impairing their judgment, these gentlemen jump down into the circled enclosure with their jackets slung over their shoulders...for they will use them as bait to attract the bull when the time is right (an obvious sign they didn't necessarily plan on entering the ring). Down there, in the arena, the air might seem a little thinner and the searing sun a little warmer. For down there, down in the pit, legends are made...LEGENDS!

OK, so maybe I'm being a little melodramatic....But, if I guy does a good job in the ring, he is certain to receive an aplaus and probably a pat on the back from some town official. More so, that kind of street-cred means a lot to a campesino man.

However, the fact of the matter is that most of the men are not very successful in their missions. Especially in these parts where we're known to have the best cows in Peru (everybody knows us for our milk, cheese, butter...dairy products). What happens most often is they become frightened and flee as the bull approaches...so much for liquid courage. However, on occasion the men stand firm and take the challenge of man vs. beast. Like I said, sometimes the men are victorious and receive a few moments in the limelight. Others, however, aren't so fortunate.

Some guys just can't seem to move their bodies quick enough. Usually, this results in the bull knocking the guy over, picking him up, throwing him, and then stepping on him some. Dangerous? You bet! So much so that it is very common to see friends chasing their intoxicated friends out into the arena just to try to remove them before they can hurt themselves. In fact, fights often start this way.

The best hits to witness (and I say this in the most sadistic sense possible), are those that occur when the guys aren't even paying attention. Yes, that's true. Some men enter the floor of the arena and are so affected by the audience, so overwhelmed by the situation, that they jump the gun; they begin celebrating before they achieve their objective. They dramatically throw their arms into the air and scream, as if to announce “Hey! Look at me! I'm the king of the wor”...BAM!

And that's when they get pummeled. The bulls clobber the men like an outside linebacker firing in on a blitz that the quarterback never saw coming...only a lot bigger, and with horns! It's absolutely incredibly hilarious...the kind of funny that isn't really supposed to be funny, but you laugh anyway because it kind of is...but more so, you're just kind of acknowledging that you're glad it wasn't you...yeah, that kind of funny. And if you're lucky, you just might catch a picture of it. As it happens, I wait patiently with my camera for these purposes specifically.

On that note, it's just like your mother used to say “It's all fun and games until somebody gets hurt”. And isn't that the truth! As it turns out, the first night of the bullfights, a man was impaled by a horn and died. To follow up this act, the same thing happened the following night with another gentlemen. These happenings are very sad, and do indeed take away from the excitement and enjoyment of the crazy fiesta nights. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy the pictures. May these two soldiers of entertainment rest in peace.