Bull Fight

About 2 years ago, my mom, my dad, my noveler brother, and I went to Spain. We traveled on a tour to Seville in the southern part of the country. patch visiting there I went to my first slovenly personfight.

        We purchased our tickets at a window at the front of the bell ringerring. When my dad bought the tickets, he had terzetto seating choices. There were seats in the solarise theater of operations, the sun and shade area, and the shade area. My dad bought tickets for the sun and shade area of the arena. We took our seats and waited for the fight to begin.

        First, a colorful parade of young bullfighters came out to greet the enormously noisy crowd. The raging bull came charging into the ring. There were beginner matadors who teased the bull with a sound and yellow cape to tire it out. Then a matador, sit upon a horse covered in protective armor, rode in with a long spear in his hand. The horse supercharged the bull, and when the horse got close enough, the matador stabbed the bull in the back with the spear. The emotional bull started to bleed profusely. My mom kept saying to me, altogether I wanted to do is sit and smell the flowers. She was quoting from the childrens story, Ferdinand, the Bull. Her comments were highly annoying!         Now the bull was weak but was really mad. Two men called picadors came out into the bullring. Each one of them had quaternity small but real sharp spears. Waving their spears at the bull, they waited for just the right moment, and then they ran toward the bull and stabbed it right in its back. The bull was angry as it was running with a hole in its back from the big long spear and about eight small spears stuck into it. It was now precise drop and hammering with blood and pain. Then I said, Look mom, Ferdinand is bleeding to death. How do you feel now?         After all that time had passed the master(prenominal) matador finally walked into the bullring, and he was dressed in an elaborate vesture of bold, fancy colors.



He took his red cape with a very sharp dagger hidden behind it and made a couple difficult passes with the bull. On the last pass, when the bull was tired and worn out, the matador pulled out his shiny sword and forcefully shoved it into a small spot in the bulls back where it punctured its heart. generate that Ferdinand! I forcefully shouted. In a matter of seconds the bull was dead and the fight was over. Two Spaniards on two well horses that were dragging shiny steel chains rode out and trussed the dead bull up and dragged it to the slaughter house where it was butchered for forage to be used in orphanages and homes for the elderly.

        The bullfight was exciting and at times very tense. If you ever have a adventure to go to a bullfight I wouldnt pass it up. I have learned that the sport of bullfighting is very viridity in Spain, but can also be very dangerous and gory.

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