Bull Culture in Spain: A Glimpse into Village Life in Valencia

If you’ve spent any time in Spain, you’ve likely heard about bullfighting—or maybe seen dramatic footage of the encierros, or bull runs, where crowds sprint ahead of charging bulls through narrow streets. While the spotlight often falls on cities like Madrid or Pamplona, the true heart of bull culture beats strongest in the villages. That’s especially true here in the Valencian Community, where we live.

Our village, nestled in the hills of Valencia, has about 3,000 people. But for ten days every year, it transforms into something else entirely. The main streets are loaded with dirt—truckloads of it—creating a soft, dusty track for the bulls to run on. Metal barricades go up. The plaza buzzes with energy. The schedule? Built almost entirely around one thing: bulls.

Bulls in the Streets, and at the Heart of It All

In our village’s annual festival, bulls aren’t just a side attraction. They are the main event. Every day features multiple bull activities: morning, afternoon, and evening. The most iconic are the bull runs, where young men line the barricaded streets, hoping to touch—or at least dodge—the charging bull. The energy is electric: part thrill, part tradition, and very much a rite of passage.

At night, things get even more intense. Bulls with flaming torches attached to their horns, known as toro embolado, are released into the streets. These events are controversial. Truthfully, they make me uncomfortable too. But here, they’re met with cheering crowds and pulsing music. The bull, likely terrified, charges through the night as flames flicker above its head.

Children and Tradition: A Complicated Inheritance

There are child-focused bull events too, which I imagine are designed to pass the tradition to the next generation. One of the most popular happens at night. A young guy races through the streets with a wheelbarrow shaped like a bull’s head, complete with flaming horns, while children run screaming and laughing through the blocks. Our 10-year-old son loves this part of the festival. He joins the chase gleefully, shrieking with excitement as the fiery "bull" careens through the village.

As a parent, I have mixed feelings. I love that he’s immersed in our village’s culture and feels at home here. But I also watch him dart around corners with a wheelbarrow bull, its real flames blazing from the horns, charging straight at him and all these other kids. It doesn’t feel entirely safe, because it isn’t.

That said, I’ve never heard of any kids getting hurt during these events. And coming from the U.S., where playgrounds are padded, risk is minimized, and childhood is often carefully managed, there’s a part of me that appreciates how these Spanish kids are raised with a bit more grit. They’re not being protected from every bump and scare, and there’s something refreshing about that.

When they’re not dodging the flaming bull, the kids are usually busy lighting firecrackers around the village—which seems at least as risky to me as the flaming wheelbarrow. It’s all wild and a little unhinged, but somehow they all seem to survive it pretty unscathed.

The stakes change, though, when the adults take over. The real risk lies with the bull runs. Ambulances are stationed nearby for a reason. Across the region—throughout Valencia and Catalonia—someone is seriously injured every year, and sometimes people die. These aren’t isolated incidents. It’s part of what makes these events both powerful and unsettling. They demand bravery and nerves of steel, but also come with real consequences.

Acrobatics Over Blood

Not all bull events involve harming the animal. In fact, some are purely about agility and nerve. The recortadores are local heroes in parts of Spain, especially here in Valencia and in Castilla y León. These performers face the bull in the ring and execute flips, twists, and astonishing dodges just inches from its horns. It’s more parkour than matador, and the crowd loves it.

These events are actually my favorite. The athleticism, timing, and sheer guts it takes to pull off those moves is mesmerizing. Last year, we got a surprise reminder of how embedded these traditions are in village life. My husband’s padel partner, who we’d only ever seen in casual games and neighborly chats, turned out to be a part-time recortador. We were stunned when we saw him in the ring, doing incredibly dangerous tricks with the bull. Seeing him there brought home just how close these traditions are to everyday life here, quietly woven into the people around us.

These “concurso de recortes” events are often seen as a purer, more athletic form of bull tradition—one that celebrates courage and physical skill without the bloodshed.

Bullfighting: A Divided Tradition

While many bull events in Valencia don’t harm the animal, bullfighting (corrida de toros), where the bull is ultimately killed, is still practiced here. It remains one of Spain’s most polarizing traditions. It’s been banned in places like Catalonia—Barcelona outlawed it in 2010—and the Canary Islands banned it back in 1991. But Valencia, like Madrid and parts of Andalusia, continues to uphold the tradition, even as support wanes, especially among younger generations.

I’ve only been to one bullfight. My family and I went, wanting to understand the culture, but we quietly left after the first bull was killed. Seeing a lone animal, surrounded by a team whose purpose was to kill it, just felt unfair. I’m still glad I saw it—I believe travel should challenge us—but I haven’t gone back.

That said, I don’t mind the bull runs or the recortadores. Maybe it’s because the bulls survive those events. Maybe it’s because I’ve come to understand how deeply these festivals are woven into village life. Everything else—the concerts, the food, the fireworks—is scheduled around the bull events. Without them, the festival would feel unrecognizable to many locals.

Will Bull Culture End?

A lot of our Spanish friends say the same thing: “The villages will be the last ones to let it go.” And I believe them. While cities are beginning to legislate against bullfighting and rethink animal welfare, the villages are where tradition runs deepest. For many, these festivals are about identity, pride, and a connection to history.

It’s hard to imagine our village’s festival without the bulls. But I do wonder—how long will it last? Will the next generation carry on the tradition, or will they be the ones to let it go?

For now, I’ll keep observing with curiosity and respect. Living here means engaging with a culture that is older and more complex than I first understood. And that, after all, is why we travel and why we stay—to witness the world as it is, not just as we wish it to be.