At the end of this past July, lawmakers in the region of Catalonia, Spain, made the official decision to ban bullfighting within their region. Bullfighting is a Spanish tradition originating from gladiatorial fights that took place when the Roman Empire occupied the Iberian Peninsula, enduring the various reigns to come. The sport is held on the same tiers of cultural sacredness as their gastronomy, historic landmarks, and diverse flora and fauna.

While animal rights advocates in Catalonia encourage this change, the rest of Spain ridicules Catalonia for it. Rather than regarding this ban as modern, it is believed to sustain the ever-growing “identity debate” of the separation of Catalonia from the rest of the nation, one of the many separatist trends in Spain.

Spain is a country of nationalists, but also regionalists—people proud of not only their country, but proud of their regional tendencies as well. Disagreeing with any characteristic of their tradition is considered a personal offense against the kingdom. Like sumo wrestling in Japan or like baseball in America, bullfighting is an essential part of the history of Spain. It’s no surprise that banning a national pastime rouses the true meaning of Spanish identity.

Despite stimulating the Catalan separatist movement, banning bullfighting represents more than anti-nationalism and animal rights. It’s a matter of shifting from outdated thinking to contemporary practices in all aspects of life, essential to being part of the European Union. However, a country as traditional as Spain views this change as uprooting their original cultural foundation.

When it comes to tradition, Spain takes the cake: located on the Iberian Peninsula, jutting out from the European continent into the Atlantic Ocean, Spain was once a world power under many empires. Every portion of history is displayed in their food, people, and architecture. After a 30-year-long dictatorship under Fransisco Franco, Spain has only evolved as a modern democratic nation in the past 35 years.

Catalonia is one of the seventeen provinces that make up the Kingdom of Spain. Located in the northeast corner of Spain, this region shares the longest border of any region with France, and thus the largest geographic connection to the rest of Europe. This connection influences Catalonia’s decision to outlaw bullfighting, and is visible in other characteristics of their regional culture: Barcelona is a significantly modern city in the eyes of all of Europe.

As charming the globally undisturbed pueblos may be, there is a lack of modernity and access to other world cultures. Not only does this create intolerance, but as a result, Spain will never be capable of being the power-nation they once were. While Spain has a history as rich as its red wine, it will be left in the dust if it doesn’t modernize ethical issues.

As a whole continent, Europe holds outdated nationalist tendencies—a result of sharing borders with clashing cultural differences every which way. With such close quarters, playing hop-scotch with quarreling countries is clearly a dangerous game. In Spain, it causes violent attacks like those of the ETA, a Basque separatist movement.

Banning bullfighting is just one way that Catalonia hopes to support the rest of the European Union, and therefore the world, in forward thinking. Creating more globally sound goals will result in more international connections. Globalization is a necessary part of life that doesn’t necessarily mean giving up tradition. But it does mean that ignoring the ever-changing mien of culture itself, fueled by evolving technology and the waning resources of Earth, is no longer an option.

To eliminating the bad and sticking with the good: a little less bullfighting, a little more red wine.

They say that when you go anywhere you’re representing your home town. Particularly, they say that when you go on Study Abroad you’re representing Kalamazoo College, Michigan, and the entire USA. They say that people remember everything you do can and will be expected out of future participants – it almost sounds like they’re reading you your Miranda rights.

(I will take the time to point out that the thing that I like the most about the French language is that it has the word “on” which translates to “somebody” or “anyone.” If English had such a word I would not have just used the awkward “they” and “you” phrasing usually found in post-game interviews with sports stars. There’s a certain fluidity that English lacks from time to time. But I digress)

However what they sometimes fail to mention is that this concept resides on a two-way street. That is, the locals often expect you to share similarities with whatever is in the news about the USA. For example, American bankers and investors were not received with as much fanfare as they had been getting in recent years.

This year we were lucky enough to go abroad at a time where everybody had a new hope for the States. George W. Bush had given the USA a bad name, and Barack Obama, well-recognized as Jesus himself descending from the heavens, had come to clean it up.

The idea was simple: Barack would clean up Washington and give the rest of the world a fighting chance. Yes, everybody wanted to talk to him (I’m sure that somebody near by can tell you which was the first country he talked to on his first day, and which countries were miffed because he only gave them three minutes of his day). Strangely, although the whole economic crisis was a buzz-kill for the entire world, it only seemed to solidify the idea that America was going to change its ways and adopt a style more helpful to everybody else.

We arrived when Obamania re-tied its shoelaces and went for the last sprint, and we left when he broke out his magic wand. The past was a long distance away, and the only thing anybody could see was the sun rising just beyond his outstretched arm. Even with all the bad in the world, I can’t imagine a more positive time.

I can’t imagine going abroad over the past seven or eight years and being George W. Bush reincarnate. I can’t imagine going abroad next year and having to explain to my host family that Obama never had a magic wand; he was just holding a pen the whole time.

I’m not an economist, but I think that it will take a long time before this recession of monumental proportions is gone. And when a country finally finds a way to triumph over its current relative poverty it will be alone in its spoils, no matter what the fair trade agreements or the EU tries to do to save each and every sinking ship in the world. In short, if the USA is supposed to save the world, then it could take a damn long time. I can’t imagine going abroad in ten years and having to explain to my host family that the help is on the way, still in transit.

I am required to act intelligently when I wear my baseball uniform and represent Kalamazoo College. However, I thought that other people – Obama, Bush, Madoff, Gates, Blagovich, etc – were wearing jerseys with “Barkley” on their backs.

A surprising fact about French people is that they are French. The people I knew through my daily activities at school and at home happened to be more French than most; that is, they were from families who had lived in France for as long as anybody can remember. These peoples’ roots come from a mixture of the Gauls, the Romans, and also Germanic tribes, but everybody is commonly referred to as French now.

I can say the same thing for myself, my family, and many of my friends – we are all Americans. My family has been in America for several hundred years, and after that amount of time one of my ancestors ceased to be a Scots-Irish, British, French, or German immigrant, and was actually recognized as an American. So therefore I am American.

To the French, however, I was not just an American. I was Irish, also. Maybe a little bit Scots. No, I was not just American, I was something else. Although I am as much of an American mutt as the next American, these French people felt the need to qualify me as something else, as a type of European who had fled and forgotten to keep with the customs of the home country.

Although I am pleased to know my ancestry, I did not like that the French forced me to be a member of the Scottish or the English people. American is American; that’s the beauty of our country. There are no questions asked, even if someone has an accent; every person who lives in this country becomes American after a time, whether they have citizenship or a green card. Meanwhile, second- and third-generation North Africans are still classified as foreigners in French society.