Campo Pequeno

As I am wont to opine, the best travel moments are the most spontaneous and unplanned.  With the obvious exception of seeing my friend Tony on my recent trip to Portugal, the best moment was stumbling across the Campo Pequeno.  I had read about it, of course, but I was busy and didn't put two and two together.  It's the famous, and beautiful, bullfighting ring in Lisbon, and, by sheer happenstance, it was across the street from the conference where I was presenting.  After stopping by the afternoon before the main session to register I was walking back to the, naturally, Campo Pequeno metro station when I spied a building across the street, that looked much like a mosque but also dramatically not much like a mosque, and I crossed the street to investigate.  The building is the Campo Pequeno, the bullfighting ring, and the "look" was not an accident, but rather a reflection of Neo-Arabic architecture that was popular for a while in Portugal in the 19th century. It is still used for bull fights today, although when I was there it was the off-season, but it was open for tours (and it was one of the best 3 euros I ever spent). There are only thirteen bull fights a year there, always on a Thursday evening, and during the off-time they put down a floor and hold concerts or other events.  They can also open the roof. In the basement there's a very posh mall and movie theater, so it's bustling most of the time. Despite my fearsome temper I'm actually a non-violent soul and I don't know if I'd ever attend a bullfighting match, but I suppose you'd have to ask me at that moment. I know I heartily recommend visiting the Campo Pequeno on your next trip to Lisbon.

A classic example of Neo-Arabic architecture, which is what drew me there in the first place.

Christine, my tour guide, who pushed through a nasty cold to give me a first rate tour of the place. I told her about Pemban bullfighting, a distant shadow introduced by the Portuguese, and she was so interested that she googled it during the tour.

This also included taking advantage of the quiet afternoon to take a few swipes at me with the practice bull so that I would work on my craft.

This was the padding on top of the practice bull where initiates learned to avoid the bull while also stabbing it in the hump.

Some of the banderillas on display at the museum.

Here you can get a sense of why the banderilla doesn't come out of the bull.  Interestingly, Christina referred to Portuguese bullfighting as bloodless, and by that she meant that the bulls were not intentionally killed (at least not since 1928) but it's not bloodless like Pemban bullfighting is bloodless.

It all started so well but then the bull got the jump on me and my beautiful day at Campo Pequeno ended, as fitting my life, clumsily.

The museum had a collection of posters promoting decades of bullfighting.

I was fascinated by the furcado who had the job of distracting the bull at the end of the performance.  While there are only about fifty bullfighters in Portugal, about 90% male, there are furcado clubs all over the country.

The furcado are named by, well, the furcado, which is the instrument they use to hold back the bull.

A picture of a furcado in action - and also a metaphor of my decades-long relationship with administration.

The bullring itself.  It hold around 7000 people, with the front row seats running for around 75 euros.  Here the flooring is down in preparation for a Christmas concert.

What Christina referred to as the "nosebleed" seats, which were around 20 euros a piece.  There were also the equivalent of luxury boxes, which housed four to eight people, and are named after famous bullfighters.

The entrance to the posh mall beneath the Campo Pequeno.  Somehow this just seemed to sum up Portugal's complex relationship with its Islamic past.