In Spain, the debate of cultural vs. cruel, in the arena of a bullring, is a long-winded one. Be it the capitol or the classroom.
It's the story of a gory death juxtaposed with a brave (or foolish) man in a fancy costume, as one side might phrase it. And in a bilingual high school, in a small pueblo in the heart of Andalusia, it's a debate that gets enlivened from both sides with equal passion.
To serve one student's angle, a picture of a matador gored in what can vaguely be described as an uncomfortable location was thrust forward. With him came the words, ni arte ni cultura, a translation not needed, though it was given. This was English class, after all.
It's a common question to ask foreigners, "What do you think of bull fighting?" It was among the questions asked on my first day, right after, "How old are you?" It's a character and cultural determiner.
Catalonia, the region up north that is best known by mentioning Barcelona, is often times a separatist in "national" affairs and has flexed its independent nature by ending all bullfights within its borders. However, for one student, the idea of bullfighting is an economic catalyst to keep: Tourists, he declared in the best English he could, come to Spain for the bulls and through the bull ring, people see Spain.
Like sangria, paella, flamenco and tapas.
Or has that changed?
In a vulgar comparison, the head teacher reiterated, the Romans stopped throwing Christians to hungry lions. The sentiment of the opposed.
It remains a question that I don't see ceasing, at least in Baeza. A town where the nearest cafe to my apartment serves its coffee with a little milk, sugar and bull fighting on TV. The owners are proud aficionados, just like ol' Hemingway.
Another block over lies the bull ring, we'll see what the warm weather brings.
It's the story of a gory death juxtaposed with a brave (or foolish) man in a fancy costume, as one side might phrase it. And in a bilingual high school, in a small pueblo in the heart of Andalusia, it's a debate that gets enlivened from both sides with equal passion.
To serve one student's angle, a picture of a matador gored in what can vaguely be described as an uncomfortable location was thrust forward. With him came the words, ni arte ni cultura, a translation not needed, though it was given. This was English class, after all.
It's a common question to ask foreigners, "What do you think of bull fighting?" It was among the questions asked on my first day, right after, "How old are you?" It's a character and cultural determiner.
Catalonia, the region up north that is best known by mentioning Barcelona, is often times a separatist in "national" affairs and has flexed its independent nature by ending all bullfights within its borders. However, for one student, the idea of bullfighting is an economic catalyst to keep: Tourists, he declared in the best English he could, come to Spain for the bulls and through the bull ring, people see Spain.
Like sangria, paella, flamenco and tapas.
Or has that changed?
In a vulgar comparison, the head teacher reiterated, the Romans stopped throwing Christians to hungry lions. The sentiment of the opposed.
It remains a question that I don't see ceasing, at least in Baeza. A town where the nearest cafe to my apartment serves its coffee with a little milk, sugar and bull fighting on TV. The owners are proud aficionados, just like ol' Hemingway.
Another block over lies the bull ring, we'll see what the warm weather brings.
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