Sunday Oct 22  This is the day the serendipity gods would serve up the juiciest of morsels. This was the kind of day one travels for, something totally exotic, unexpected, and delightful. We had been down to the Camargue earlier in the trip and got a tiny glimpse of this culture of black bulls and white horses. This day we would see it on full display. 

The cult of the bull across the Mediterranean region has very ancient, and very pagan, origins. Southern France is right in stride with this. Many towns have a statue of a revered champion displayed in a place of honor. The Camargue bulls are raised for bullfighting all over France, and the horses are for managing the bulls. 

_8509512 We will be seeing this spectacle in the town of Aigues-Mortes on the western edge of the Camargue. It was founded and built by King Louis IX, Saint Louis, because he needed a Mediterranean port. He embarked from this very spot on his crusade, from which he would not return alive.

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The event we witnessed is actually an eleven day festival put on by the breeders of the bulls. It had a very "small town, county fair" feel. There were not a lot of tourists and those few were from other places in Europe. We know this because it was all free, even to park our car. It was the Camargue celebrating itself. 

The main event is the Camargue style bullfighting where the bull is taunted, not killed. But there is much more to the day than that. So the remainder of this post will report on the preliminary activities. They alone were worth the trip.

The day starts with breakfast. We were told to go to a field on the edge of town where we would see the gardians separate the bulls that would fight that day. When we arrived about 9 AM we found ourselves in the middle of a big tailgate party. Tables of cheese, champagne, French bread and pastries, people grilling, this is what they call breakfast!

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We waited around for maybe 30 minutes wondering when something would actually happen. Finally they brought in a herd of bulls, moving them into a shallow pond. The gardians then rode up and faced the herd of bulls, just standing there for several minutes. What was this about? Were they saying a prayer? Saluting the adversary? It had a ritualistic feel to it. They then rode over to the fence where we were watching, dismounted, and went back to the party. 

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Not having brought provisions of our own (we'll know better next time) we could only wait and watch them eat. Finally they got to it, separating the bulls they wanted for the bullfight. 

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As the bulls were picked out they were herded down a country lane, through the north gate of Aigues-Mortes, down the city streets to the south gate, and into the arena. This all happened before we could get in position to get pictures. We did get these gardians bringing up the rear.

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Next, the bullfights!!