It is Friday afternoon but there will be no death this day. The corrida de toros is Sunday evening. We visit, images of what we see on television still fresh, of toreros in failed paso doble agony.
This day, it is quiet, small in size and in the emptiness of the 14,000 seats.
The ring is swept clean, replendent in the yellow sand and brilliant red paint, the colors of Sevilla. On Sunday, through gates now closed, there will be an explosion of people, toreros, picadores, banderilleros, horses and bulls.
In the quiet we walk past stables, rooms where toreros dress and chapel where they pray before entering the ring. Paintings and displays in the small museum trace the early development of the corrida from games similar to tournaments to the present day spectacle.
High on the wall, the heads of famous bulls project from the wall. We see ears! They are the mothers of bulls who have killed toreros, killed, we are told, to keep from producing such dangerous offspring again. It is interesting that temperament of the bulls is assigned to the female.
Sealed in display cases, the costumes justify their high price. Gold trim and intricate surface design create dress appropriate for this ultimate dance of death.
How different it all will be on a Sunday evening.
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1 comment:
These blew me away! Beautiful words/pics. I was transported back to the darkened movie theater where I first saw Tyrone Power in BLOOD ON THE SAND.
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