Feria and the Cercle Taurien

Young matador

Ruffles of the flamenco

It's Feria time in the south of France.  Carcassonne is not the only city to celebrate this Spanish connection.  Many towns do this, and according to some people I spoke with today, do it better.  But I live here, so I will celebrate here.

Feria decorations inside the Cercle Taurien

I have friends who are members of the Cercle Taurian here in Carcassonne.  It's a private club that is housed in an old decomissioned (de-sanctified?) church right off Place Carnot.  The club itself is a place to celebrate all things having to do with bullfighting.  Surprised that I would associate with something so controversial and on the wrong side of it even?  I am surprised at myself, but I have given this whole bullfighting business a lot of thought.

It is about the b

I will never support the torture of animals.  But I have never actually seen a bullfight--although today I met my first real matador.....so I am of the mind that I should perhaps learn a little about it before condemning it outright.  I do know this--these animals live amazing, pampered lives.  They are well cared for, as prized possessions often are.  I will take--any time-- the life of a corida bull over the life of any steer who lives its life on a US feedlot from birth to slaughter.  There's no question there as to  animal cruelty.  And I have no right to completely dismiss a part of another culture without first learning something about it.  The other circumstance in bull-fighting's favor is that the bull sometimes wins--a matador was gored and killed two weeks ago in Nimes. 

So, even though this club celebrates all things from the bull-fighting culture, many of its members are non-attendees to the ring itself.  They are, however, one of the most convivial groups of people I have ever met in Carcassonne.  Today, during Saturday of Feria I went for lunch and a drink with friends at the "clubhouse."  

Flamenco in the streets

The featured guest was a young man--the bullfighter.  He was the skinniest young man I have EVER seen, quiet and unassuming. If he weighed 125, I would be surprised.  

What courage it must take to stand his ground while a 600 or  700 pound animal with horns is bearing down on him.  I tried to give him a glass of Limoux cremat, but he declined.  I explained that I was new (ish) to Carcassonne and certainly new to the corida world.  He invited me to the bullring after the festivities in the street....but I have no car, so I won't be able to go.  However,  it is something I am going to do before long, because I want to make up my own mind after my own eyes have had a chance to see what this is all about.  

The matador guest of honot

One of the dancers is my next door neighbor

 There were flamenco dancers showing off in front of the building--and as it turns out, one of them is my next door neighbor here at #4.  Carcassonne is such a small town, really.  I watched the young, and some not so young dancers with their swirling layers of ruffles and realized that these Latin cultures really understand suggestion.  Less showing and more imagination is the best recipe for seduction.  

Lots of activity and locally run bodegas are on tap for tonight over on Boulevard Barbes.  It might be a good thing to go out for a street-food Feria dinner.  I am wary though, because it's bigger and glitzier this year than it was last year.  According to people I met at lunch today, it's not navigated the jump to bigger and glitzier very well--it suffers from poor organization.  I so loved Feria last summer,  when it was a modest, local fete put on by locals for locals.  I hope it still retains that charm.  

This is the mom of the little girl in the photo above

Humid work