San Roque, 125 years of passion and resilience for bullfighting in Pontevedra: where Galicia becomes the soul of bullfighting.

"And when I look at the ring, I see the infancy of the sun," wrote an anonymous poet who perhaps dreamed of this plaza, the one in Pontevedra: circular, familiar, built of stone, forged in affection and the ringing of bells. This summer marks its 125th anniversary , and the Coso de San Roque —a faithful neighbor of the chapel dedicated to the saint who protects against plagues and epidemics—remains a beacon illuminating the ephemeral art of bullfighting and the emotion that only exists on an August afternoon in the Rías Baixas.

Federico García Lorca said that " a bullring is a round shape that has the courage to be seen by the people." Here in Pontevedra, the bullring isn't just a shape: it's memory, it's summer, it's the sound of bagpipes mingling with bugles, it's the sun cracking the boards and the sand, it's the breeze from the Lérez River that refreshes the afternoon as the bullfighting procession begins.

"There is no beauty without wounds , " wrote Antonio Gala. And perhaps that truth resides in the Pontevedra bullring. Every pass, every performance, every bull that becomes a legend under the Galician sky leaves a mark that enhances its history. A history that has been going on for a century and a quarter, and will continue, as long as there is someone willing to feel it. Inaugurated on the day of the Peregrina festival in 1900 by the Bombita brothers, this bullring was born in the warmth of a Galicia that was beginning to look south without ceasing to be north. Since then, it has been the scene of epics, of sacred silences, of afternoons that now belong to the old gold of history.

Here, Ignacio Sánchez Mejías cut two ears and a tail in 1920 and returned in 1927 with Rafael Alberti . The story of that afternoon tells that the poet from Cádiz accompanied the Sevillian bullfighter on the bullring, "with his navel drawn in", as he dedicated a bull to the academic and essayist, José María de Cossío . Also memorable was the mano a mano between Antonio Ordóñez, who was making his debut in this square, with Luis Miguel Dominguín in 1951; both made that duel an unforgettable afternoon. In 1984 , the last tail was signed by Antoñete , leaving in Pontevedra an offering of composure and truth.

But it's not just the past that stirs. The legend is nourished by recent feats. In 2003 , Antonio Ferrera pardoned "Fígaro," a bull from Alcurrucén that seemed written by Galdós. Three Victorinos were awarded a lap of honor on an afternoon celebrated in 2007. And in 2009 , El Fandi doubled the miracle with "Turco," from Torrealta , closing a bullfight that is still recounted like someone recounting a dream.

The footprints of El Juli , with his perfect geometry, still weigh heavily on this arena; José Tomás , who lit up the plaza with fire and shadow; Enrique Ponce , embroidering silence like a silk mantilla; Morante de la Puebla , who sprinkled the sand with perfume as if he were bullfighting for Lorca. Also Tomás Rufo , a youth with a clear sword; Palomo Linares , who left his bearing and pedigree; and José Mari Manzanares , with that Levantine porcelain temperament. All of them have contributed their signature to the invisible book of this century-old bullring.

This bullring was also a first for many: here, picadors Espartaco and Manuel Benítez "El Cordobés" made their debut, in a Galicia that welcomed them with a hunger for art. In 1906 , women took to the ring, defying centuries and silence. Only the pandemic , in 2020 and 2021, halted their festivities. Not even the Civil War could stop this plaza, which then held bullfights to raise funds.

This was also a stage for politics and a popular forum . La Pasionaria spoke here many years before Mariano Rajoy , a son of this land, did the same at an election rally. And there was no shortage of great names on its stands throughout its history: Valle-Inclán , Camilo José Cela , Hemingway , Anthony Quinn , King Alfonso XIII and Queen Victoria Eugenia , and even John Rockefeller III , who attended in 1929 as a guest of Miguel Primo de Rivera .

Good lyrics, verses, microphones, and cameras have been cited here. In these stone stands, one imagines Vicente Zabala de la Serna , notebook in hand, clear gaze, precision in pen, capturing for the chronicle every detail that escapes the untrained eye. Zabala knows—like few others—that " a bull can be a poem or a silence," and that the Pontevedra bullring always offers material for both.

In these stone stands, it's very common to see Ramón Rozas , a journalist and writer of honed sensitivity, whose respect for the history and soul of this city leads him to view the plaza not only as a venue, but as a cultural metaphor. Rozas has written that here, bullfighting, like art, occurs when emotion and truth merge. His words have caressed this plaza with the same composure with which one bullfights with the waist. And how can we forget Pedro Antonio Rivas Fontenla —who defined himself with wit as a " cowardly bullfighter, frustrated filmmaker, and forced journalist " —a wry and passionate narrator of many of the stories that still live on today in the gatherings of the barra y sombra (bar and shadow). And thanks to the drive of another Pontevedra native, José Manuel Lorenzo , then general director of Canal+ , the Plaza de San Roque reached homes across Spain in the late 1990s, with broadcasts that showcased this space of stone and heartbeat. This square remains a literary and civil matter.

Throughout the history of this bullring, the blood of bullfighters not only stained the sand, but also sustained its walls. The legendary Dominguín family—a family of bullfighters and entrepreneurs—cared for this plaza for decades, shaping its destiny with the same bravery with which they risked their lives in the ring. For 50 years , the keys to this enclosure have been guarded with emotional intelligence and a sense of duty by the Lozano family , who has watched over Pontevedra like someone who tends an old garden: with care, respect, and a vision that blends tradition and modernity. Half a century of the Lozano family keeping the flame alive so that every August continues to smell of carnations, brass bands, and a fighting bull. And here, I allow myself a brief aside for my dear Luisma Lozano , who as a manager has seriousness, but as a friend, he has a broad smile, a warm demeanor, and the right word. Luisma is one of those who, as Hemingway said, knows that "a man's life is as great as his passion."

And when the evening wanes, when the bugle falls silent and the moon rises, modern rituals emerge, the peñas: the Karepas gather—ever fewer in number—to form a group, laugh, and toast to what was and what is to come. There's no shortage of Gin Kas, which rise like a hymn to friendship and life, because the party doesn't end with the last pass: it continues in the street, at the bar, in every shared laugh.

This bullring isn't just celebrating its anniversary these days; it's celebrating its emotional immortality , its cultured resilience , its ability to reinvent itself with fidelity at its core. Because, as the old Greek aphorism goes: art is long, but life is short . And in Pontevedra, every bullfighting afternoon, the world begins anew.