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Published: September 29th 2008
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Adrenaline addiction has yet to have a global advertising campaign against it. In fact quite the opposite; ski resorts, adventure sport companies, even energy drink and high octane breakfast cereals have glorified this serious disease into something to be craved and desired. I too, as an unwary consumer, bought into the madness and purchased the occasional Red Bull and various sporting goods.
Last year my opinion of adrenaline began to change. Maybe something clicked while accompanying Dennie off a mountain in Switzerland, or watching her volunteer to be the first one to jump down a waterfall in the Pyrenees, but each time we would do anything the least bit dangerous or thrilling, I would notice a distinct and immediate change in Dennie. It was always most evident in the eyes, pupils dilated, her gaze dancing rapidly from left to right. As the chemical hormone coursed through her veins, muscles tightened, goosebumps caused hair to stand on edge and a broad smile spread from ear to ear.
I was willing to indulge Dennie’s desires, as long as they fell within the realm of safely and legally organised adventure sports. However, I have now come to realise that the slippery slope
is getting steeper, and it is only a matter of time before she starts running in front of trains and starting fights in bars.
Each September, the quaint mountain town of Segorbe is transformed into a heaving mass of drunken Spaniards running from, taunting and lighting the horns on fire of large and angry bulls. Last year we arrived on the final Sunday afternoon of the festival just in time to witness the entrada (the running of bulls flanked my cowboys down the crowded streets of the towns main thoroughfare). This year we arrived early Saturday just as the madness of the fiesta was reaching a fever pitch.
It began innocently enough with a round of morning beers and an impromptu dance party in the towns central square, followed by a quick, but intense Entrada. Though a great deal of fun was had, I hadn’t seen sign of the energy infused fury that is Dennie on Adrenaline. An afternoon siesta and a swim in Jon and Rona’s pool left everyone relaxed, refreshed and ready for a night of bull watching.
One of the main squares in the town is transformed for the party into an arena. On
the ground, wooden slats provide safe areas of refuge, while above, bleachers provide the best seats for locals lucky enough to find room. This rough shod stadium is constructed all in preparation for the thrice nightly Embalauo. Each time, at 11:30, 1 and 3 in the morning, 3 bulls are brought into the plaza one by one. Each bull is adorned with a wick and wire apparatus which is lit on fire above the bulls head; its sole purpose is to agitate and annoy. “Brave” young locals then vie for the bulls attention by poking it with long poles, running past it wearing colourful clothes, or attempting to hit the bull with their bare hands. There are moments of delirious excitement when the bull narrowly misses a local, or gets stuck between the narrow wooden slats meant to protect people and thrashes wildly sending sparks haphazardly about the square. One unfortunate accident saw a man gored by the bulls horn in his femur. The blood spurting from the mans leg as he limped towards medical attention brought further evidence of the real danger that comes from mixing angry bulls, fire and rampant alcohol consumption.
Dennie had long since abandoned
the real world and was lost in a whirlwind of flames. She could only hear the cheers of the crowd and the occasional passing sound of hooves. The frenetic energy of the square sent a steady flow of courage to her legs and she found herself venturing out through the wooden slats away from the safety of her friends and towards the wide open and unprotected area in the centre of the square. Her arms were outstretched and her feet began to stomp with force upon the ground. She drew the attentions of both the bull and the crowd. While she was not alone in her stomping, all eyes were on her, as a result of her gender.
The art of bull taunting was generally limited to the domain of men. Some of the older men in the crowd recalled a women known only as ´Diableza' or ¨She Devil¨ who, in the 1940´s and 50´s had travelled around the Spanish countryside, going from fiesta to fiesta proving her valour with her amazing abilities. So great was her skill that the bulls themselves grew nervous before entering an arena or stadium where she was said to have walked. The old
men and women seated comfortably in there places of honour above Segorbe´s square remembered this wild women with nostalgia, and as they watched the young Canadian girl dancing ´Con Truenos´(with thunder) in front of a brave bull, torrents of memories came flooding back into their minds and tears began to well up in their eyes.
A group of teenaged girls searching desperately for a strong female role model saw in Dennie their long awaited heroine. A young girl, aroused by the passion of the moment, screamed the words ´La Torrina´ (Lady Bull Fighter) and without hesitation the crowd began to chant. Soon, scores of young women throughout the crowd were cheering on La Torrina with growing intensity.
The bull knew his target, and he sensed she was the one the crowd cheered on. Though he did not understand why, something about her made him nervous. The root of this nervous energy was Diableza herself. Generations of bulls have come and gone since then, but in parts of Spain a natural fear of women has been bred into certain lineages of bulls.
The bull knew he must act soon, to dispel the rumour that he lacked the Cajones. He charged with lightning quickness, bolting towards the girl. Dennie, sensing the impending doom began to return to the safety of the crowd. Just before slipping between two wooden slats, she reached back with her right hand and slapped the bull firmly on the back
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Serae
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Crazy Canadians
Ola! My God Kris!! You have one crazy girlfriend on your hands there!!! Good on you!!!! I suppose we use to call you the `Crazy Dancing Canadian' so it seems fit that you have found a perfect match :) We're good! Keep those blogs coming --make us jealous! Serae xoxo