Animals are involved in so many cultural rituals the world over. Some are for good luck, others for entertainment, and others still for food and feasting. I’m not sure that I will ever find peace or a middle ground that will allow me to appreciate a cultural experience without my heart breaking for the animals involved in the process. I continue to be ridiculously fortunate in finding opportunities to be part of truly fascinating experiences so I share my stories and attempt to leave the soap box for a later time. Oh my goodness, I spent a weekend at the bull races.
How can you tell when it’s going to be a fantastic weekend? When it all starts off with a ROAD TRIP and said road trip is my first ever on my motorbike! YESSSSSS!!! Kat & Jon are two adventurer extrordinaires going on their 3rd year here in Surabaya. They had very graciously invited me to check out the (in)famous bull races on the island of Madura, just over that ginormous bridge off the edge of Surabaya where much missed Xenia took me on my very first real motorbike ride (still miss you, Xen!) a few months back. They had been to the races last year and said it is a fascinating, albeit intense, experience, one not to be missed. And yes, we would be taking our bikes. I’m IN!
A brilliant, whizzing 3 hour ride to the far side of Madura zooming over the frightening and exhilarating bridge, along the coast, through small villages, and navigating around jam-packed, traffic stopped local markets full of thoroughly distressed livestock heading towards their demise. My first long ride, my first super speedy ride (well only 80kms/hr but 80 kph on a bike feels like at least double that!), my first real let ‘er loose go on a bike and no big surprise… LOVED IT! I would have been happy enough to turn my baby around and drive all the way back again but no, no, no… we have some fancy cows and bulls to see so hotel found, quick shower had, and we ventured back out to the sweating heat of midday Indonesia to find us some culture. Here we go.
Not sure of the history of it all but essentially it looks like things progressed from a bored farmer gazing at his yoked animals plowing the field and thinking hmmm… fear makes them run, who doesn’t like really loud and varied types of noise, and dressing animals up makes me giggle, SO! let’s make an event of it all. Oh heaven help us, an event has been made of it all.
A short, sweaty walk to the festivities and we pushed and shoved our way into an overcrowded fair ground where several teams had their prized cows (I’m pretty sure they were all cows) dolled up, harnessed up, and on display while they took turns parading and prancing around the grounds (people and animals) showing off their moves and costumes. I really don’t know how to explain it. As the dressed up cows are marched through the crowds, a group of performing musicians and dancers trail behind them in their team outfit / uniforms. Two very made up girls lead the musical, dancing group gyrating, grinding, and swaggering while taking money from outstretched hands. Very sassy, provocative, interesting. Never did get the answer on if they were “dancing” for money or offering other services or where the money ends up going but… wow, Indonesia. Apparently Madura is well known for its “talented” women. Yes, ask someone in Surabaya about the women in Madura and you get a cheeky grin. The women in Madura are very proud of their “talents”.
The noise of these endless performers, the sheer number of people crammed in on top of each other, the pounding heat aggravating the smells of trampled hay and general fairground odors and the nonstop staring, touching, and attempts to photograph the strange white folk was interesting at first, entertaining and amusing, a novelty to be enjoyed, however the endearing nature of it all eventually wore thin as the hours ticked by. After several photos and litres of sweat drained, I was ready for a nap. Culture is fascinating but I needed a break from the endless intensity of it all. Thankfully, Kat was on the same page as me.
A lovely stroll and a much needed cold drink break followed by a comatose like nap and we were ready to explore bullrace Madura by night. After a lovely dinner in a beautiful, newly opened local restaurant where escaping a zombie attack was a main topic of conversation, our evening goal: the Eternal Flame. Not kidding you. So the Bangles tune of the same name was being belted out full volume as we hopped back on the bikes and made our way to where the Flame was to be found. Sadly, the road took us to a florescent lit tourist trap; our sought after amazing natural phenomenon defeated by the commercialism of it all. Gas seeps out of the ground and there are constant orange and blue flames burning and dancing directly out of the dirt. Interesting but sadly diminished by the glaring lights and vendor stands. A few inquiries made and apparently there was SECOND Eternal Flame burning bright in a less public area. 5 minutes down the road and we found ourselves stumbling through the middle of a deserted farmer’s field in the inky dark of night with stars sparkling overhead as we followed the blue glow of … yes!... a real, BLUE Eternal Flame!
Now THIS was cool! No one around as we danced, sang, and jumped around this dusty field that was ON FIRE! Not burning, just small flames flaring out of cracks in the ground. When we poked around with a stick or overturned a rock, there’d be a poof of flame or the direction of the blue would change or it would extinguish itself and escape from another crack in the ground somewhere else. SO eerie! SO amazing! A really, really interesting place. We were there forever as photos were attempted, UFOs were spotted several times overhead, and The Bangles was sung on repeat. Too much fun. Partying at the Gates of Hell… good, good times! Next stop… off to see if the bull race party was still happening…
No small surprise that the intensity of the evening was still full-on as we stopped by to take in the stage performance of dancers and singers. Simple me was happy as could be after finding a true blue cotton candy vendor. So as the three of us munched on sweet, fluffy nothingness, we soaked in hot, sweaty Madura by night. What a full, fun day. And we still have Sunday, the RACES to see yet! WOW!
So Sunday arrives and I think I’m ready for this. Yeah, as always, I was wrong.
The sheer number of people in any given space is suffocating, overwhelming, panic-inducing, utter chaos. Lining up is unheard of, pushing, shoving, stepping on & over, elbowing, grabbing, just barbaric disregard for another is the only way of getting from point A to point B, apparently. I will never, ever get used to this. Never. We didn’t hesitate to pull the white kid privilege card as it got us in a side entrance and out of the smothering crowds. Once inside, the rodeo atmosphere was exciting; dusty, dirty, cowboy town. The hats alone were fantastically entertaining. Just no words. Jon & Kat were on a mission, they knew where they were going and what they wanted to do and see as follow up from last year. I was quite happy to tag along, camera in hand. Again, being white folk, we were invited into people’s tents as they prepared their fancied up bulls for the races, singing and playing music and generally pumping them up (I guess???) The center of the grounds was a massive, football field sized enclosed grassy area where two sets of two bulls raced from one end to the other with a small teenaged boy (!!!) “controlling” them from a latched on piece of flimsy wood dangling behind the two massive creatures. Oh dear gawd… what are we doing here???
Details are irrelevant as of course the bulls are whipped and other various things are done to work them up enough to race full speed the length of the arena (something that they quite obviously don’t naturally do). We were granted special access to the INSIDE of the arena, where the bulls were raced, so we could take photos. At one point, I stopped, looked at Kat, and the full realization of what we were doing smacked me in the head. Should the bulls decide to do their own thing, we were in the middle of a wide open fenced in area surrounded by thousands of people who we would somehow have to climb up and over should there be a need for escape. The coolest place to be, but yeah, definitely the dumbest. Nothing like a little danger to make the atmosphere and photographs worth it. Excellent.
That being said however, we were hanging out at the starting gate. At the very far end of the arena, the finish line, hundreds of people crammed in to stand in the exact spots the racing bulls were rushing towards! In the distance, we could see a ripple in the crowds as they attempted to avoid being trampled by the oncoming train-speed beasts, as stopping them is obviously a bit of an effort. No media or medical care here but there MUST have been injuries if not deaths at that end. There MUST have been. I considered checking out the finish line for about half a second. Ummm… nope… I’m good here, thanks.
A couple of hours in the merciless sun watching these bulls being assaulted in the name of entertainment and my stomach started to churn. Could have been heat stroke setting in or just the sheer sadness of it all. The beasts were well cared for before and after the races; hand washed with cool water and endlessly fed and groomed but the violence and force used to get them to race, yeah, teary me. It was fascinating, I appreciated the intensity of it all, I mean there were thousands and thousands of people there to watch this incredible event, but yeah, it gets to you. Kat & Jon had arranged to speak with one of the owners and jockeys so I left them to get the inside scoop and decided to just take a little wander around the deserted streets.
Some serious elbowing (I have been blessed with superbly sharp and effective elbows) eventually got me through the solid mass of ogling slack-jaws and I was out on the streets. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Too. Many. People.
Wandering the nearly empty streets was perfect. Saw some amazing kids just being kids and enjoyed the relative silence of some domestic back alley ways. Another kind of culture equally as fascinating for me.
Regrouped back at the hotel and a mid afternoon departure back to the big city. Another exhilarating ride on the bike, crossing a beautifully lit up bridge just after the sunset, and tying up a wonderfully interesting weekend with two wonderfully interesting new friends. There is never a shortage of things to do or see here. Lucky, lucky me.
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