Toro No More-O

Day 4

We were able to find a place near the hotel that would suffice for "breakfast."

Not quite ready for photos yet.


Torrada- toasted bread with jamón serrano (a way of preparing the ham that is sooo good) and cheese


Cold and rainy again today, we headed to another mascletá. I would like you to know that before she left the U.S., Mom informed me, "Emily, now, I want to do more than just Fallas drinking and fireworks." Let me tell you she was singing a different tune in no time.

Me at the Mascletá...waiting and waiting. We probably only waited 20-30 minutes this day.
The bandanna tied around my neck is the falla bandanna. Everyone has one, but if you truly belong to a falla (like we do in the FSU building) then it has your falla name printed on the corner. But tourists can buy generic bandannas if they wish.


More and more people each day. Along with bigger and louder fireworks.


All the fallas are up today. This is the falla in the main town plaza.



Did I nail the face?



Falla in la Plaza de la Reina (Queen's plaza...next to cathedral)




Walked over to the other towers, Torres de Quart.



And got to see... well then we got to see what became my favorite falla. Also one you may not want to look at on your work computer :)


Google is certainly gonna take my blog away after this falla.


As best as I could tell, this falla is a commentary on how we really haven't changed much as humans over the centuries. Or maybe...oh I don't feel like putting it in words. The pictures speak enough for themselves. There's really no tellin'

But women still be shoppin...


That green sign in the picture above says "El Corte Inglés" which is a big department store here (see below)


Clothes still needed washing


Including undergarments


The arts were still important




And people needed to travel.

You're not sure what's going on here?


How about now?


Caveman bashes elephant in nose.
Elephant poots.
Man flies.


And there you have early air travel.


Early maritime travel to the left.
Early land travel to the right. The guy on the right is feeding his pig slops, the pig is also pooting in the back there... thus propelling the wheeled cart forward.




Family vehicle


Somewhere in this falla tent must be the person responsible for that ludicrous falla.



More falleras on parade as we make our way around town.



Quick pit stop at Starbucks -which was really just for a warm place to sit until time for our next event. And that next event was... a bullfight. I hesitate to even say the name because I spent a day trying to forget I ever went. And because you really can't even call it a fight.


I had passed by this bullring almost every day and wanted to see the inside. Bullfight season is not right now...I think it is in summer or fall. But during Fallas there are bullfights every day. So when Alicia (one of our directors) emailed us to ask if we wanted tickets, I debated back and forth. No, I don't want to see a bull die. But the experience. It may be the only time I ever have this opportunity. You gotta have the experience right? Surely I can handle it just once. So, after consulting my visitors, I said let's do it.


Very excited entering the bullring. It is beautiful.


Wow what could those big horses be for...we wondered.


Oh...no. poor bulls. Let it be known that Mom was the one taking all these ominous photos.


Initially, Alicia told us the tickets were 30 euro. I found out that there were some nose-bleed tickets for 15. When I told her that's what I wanted she said, "You know those are up high and far away from the fight, right?"
Me: "Yes, that is the point. I want to be as far away from the dying bull as possible."
Oh, if only that had been enough.

The rest of the students who bought the 30 euro tickets were right below us. And really... it's a ring... there's not a bad seat in the house. Or rather, all the seats in the house are bad...depending on if you enjoy watching death or not.


Hey Lillie! Hey Jimmy!


The procession starts... oh this isn't so bad.


Then some guys with sissy pink capes come out.


Their fun and flashy. Still not so bad. No problem


And then the bull darts out. Look at that bull. So happy to be a bull. So full of life and spunk.
But it was when the bull ran out that Joe and I looked at each other and realized why we were here. The excitement of the beautiful bullring started to fade as reality settled in ... this happy, spunky bull was NOT going to run OUT of the ring.
"What are we doing here?" asked Joe.


Happy bull video (aka no bad stuff has happened to him yet and it won't happen in this video). I wouldn't lie about this.


Then .....the picadors. Booooo. These are the guys that come out on their horses and stab the bull in the top of his back. Over and over again. Don't worry. There will be NO stabbing pictures EVER on this blog.


Sure, sure... protect the horses. That's fair.


Then the matador comes out and does some fancy foot work. This was when I began to only look through my fingers. There was mucho blood running down the bull's left side.

Mom (not taking her eyes away from the fight): "Emily, just watch the matador."

Does she not realize that HE's the one doing the killing? Why do I want to watch him? I hate him? Watching him is gonna make me forget the bleeding bull he is about to murder?




The difference in my voice here in this video compared to the first video is drastic. I was no longer happy with my purchase. Still, no worries. There is no stabbing in this video and no blood that you can see. Just the matador doing his dance with the bull.


Finally, three of the pink cape dudes come out and wave all their capes in front of the bull. Making him very disoriented. Then, with one quick jab from the matador to the bull's head, the bull fell. I was so mesmerized by the three guys with capes that I forgot I was filming and I didn't realize what was about to happen, and I accidentally filmed the bull death! I didn't mean to! I never wanted that on film! But if YOU want that video, you'll have to come visit me or request a video email. It will not appear here. And I will NEVER watch it.


There were 6 bulls in all. After the first one, I couldn't watch any more. I shut my eyes through the whole thing and pulled my fuzzy hat over them just in case I accidentally peeked. After the second bull, Joe was ready to leave. So we did. Right when we walked out of the bullring we ran into some protesters chanting, "Tortura es tortura!" We took a pamphlet and I shouted "SEE ES TORTURA." Then, I went and mourned over a warm cup of tea.

One second video that was supposed to be a picture or me with hat over eyes.


But this freak wanted to stay for more, while her daughter trembled in horror at a café across the road.

I really can't whine though. I knew better. I did. I don't even like stepping on large spiders these days. It makes me so happy when my little Spanish students free the bugs they find. So, why I thought I'd be ok with a bullfight I'll never know.
Nevertheless, I had the worst feeling in my heart for a while after that experience. I was in much need of some spirit-lifting fireworks.


Dinner near the hotel ...Italian again.



Moment of silence


for all the brave little bulls


Pourin' one out for all the toros.



Made our way to the bridges where everyone congregates for the fireworks. Not in the riverbed tonight. We stayed up on the road. Way more people, but slightly more secure.


On the typical firework-high, we went to see one more falla before catching a taxi to the hotel.





Short video of the end of the finale. You're lucky I'm not posting all 13 firework videos.