I thought I should do a post that would refer a bit more to the world of bullfighting and the figures I discovered trough my fan notes about Cayetano :).
Here you have a very young Antonio Ordonez, Cayetano's maternal grandfather, and one of the most important matadors in Spanish history.
Imagine from the movie Paquirri inspired by the life and tragic death of Francisco Rivera "Paquirri ", Cayetano's father - iconic matador that died in the ring when our maestro was just an infant.
Here is a very cute picture of Carmen Ordonez, Cayetano's mom, when she was just a baby.
And here's her niece Cayetana with her son, Francisco Rivera, Cayetano's brother. Yeah, tehy all are gorgeous.
Ps.Here's Finito de Cordoba - no connection to the subject... he was just amazing when young :P.Couldn't help it and had to post.
“Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know.”
“Auto racing, bull fighting, and mountain climbing are the only real sports ... all others are games.”
Bullfighting is the only art in which the artist is in danger of death and in which the degree of brilliance in the performance is left to the fighter's honor.
These are all quotes of the great Ernest Hemingway, to me tauromaquia is the closest art to medieval battles. And therefor I appreciate and honor the art of the matador.
I could listen to this song all day long. No kidding :) If you take away the death of the bull and watch with no resent the art of tauromaquia you'll sure discover an amazing world. Ole, maestros!
Cuando el vuelo tu capotes
Pinta veros ni caltrotes
Del toro en el rehumbre
Padece la maestranza
Una academia de danza
O un cortijo de Jerez
Y cuando con la aguja de toro
Va pintando grana y oro
Como insertando un clavel
Y en tu brazos soñadores
Hay alfileres de colores
ESTRIBILLO 1
ole,ole,ole
no le quieren coser.
Un humilde canastero
Se me seca un cuerpo entero
Mientras que pasa el burel
Se vuelve en tu muleta
Es el verso de un poeta
Que quiere al cielo y te ve
Y bruces de la cultuta
Del toro por la cintura
Y tu muñecar sincer
Y en tu brazos soñadores
Hay alfileres de colores
ESTRIBILLO 2
ole
no le quieren coser.
Un humilde canastero
Se me seca un cuerpo entero
Mientras que pasa el burel
Se vuelve en tu muleta
Es el verso de un poeta
Que quiere al cielo y te ve
Y bruces de la cultuta
Del toro por la cintura
Y tu muñecar sincer
Y en tu brazos soñadores
Hay alfileres de colores
ESTRIBILLO 3
ole,ole,oleee
olé con ole y olé
olé con ole y olé
olé con ole
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