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 It’s a matter of shifting from outdated thinking to contemporary practices in all aspects of life, essential to being part of the European Union.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.

Listening becomes difficult once campus life resumes and the adjective ‘college student’ overpowers any other words that can begin to describe who I am during ¾ of the year.  What I mean to say is when the fall classes start, so do the complaints, and I can stand to listen to the complaining for maybe a second.  Then my head explodes.

A complaint is not a criticism.  It offers no potential solution from the complainer to adjust any displeasure.  It does not incite a second party to discuss and formulate a solution to a problem.  Instead, complaints are abruptly presented, sometimes vulgar or harsh, and responses either further the depth of the complaint, or shoot it down completely with a mix of humor and annoyance.  And that is something college students love to do (or so I’ve come to understand).

College students love, love, love to complain.  They enjoy expressing their woes of vigilantly working late into the night, ignoring drooping eyelids and feigning consciousness.  They love to complain about their struggles with the faculty.  They complain about a ‘B’ average or a weekend with nothing to do but drink and play videogames.  “I’ve got three exams this week and a ten page paper due tomorrow morning.  I haven’t studied at all and I got as far as the second page of the paper last night with the help of Red Bull and Adderall.  Life sucks.”  Well, yes it does, for someone who can afford to attend college, live with peers you call friends, keep busy, and prepare for a money-making career (if the economy isn’t in the toilet by graduation).

Now I realize I sound like I’m complaining.  Maybe I am.  In fact, I’m complaining about complaining and I apologize.  But everyone complains from time to time, and it’s OK to take in small doses.  I guess it can be seen as a way to commiserate with others who may feel similar woes.

So let me bring to light a complaint I’ve had that I’m sure most students and ex-students have shared.  I hate the question, “What are you doing this summer?”

Everyone asks this question with positive or caring sentiments.  Friends and family are curious with the life of a budding student and they wish to stay abreast of all the classes, internships, and beer pong the student experiences.  For those sentiments, I am grateful knowing, at the very least, someone is interested in my life.

But it’s a hard question to respond to.  Besides the repetition of reciting the same few answers again and again, there exists some unspoken pressure to sound interesting.  If your summer isn’t up to par with the rest of the students’, you’re S.O.L.  No internship?  No summer job?  No exotic vacation?  Sorry dude.  Good luck finding a job!

As I sit here writing this article, with no obvious prospect of summer employment or an extravagant way to occupy my time, I realize it’s not so bad.  Why should I get a sympathetic ‘sorry’ for an open summer?  Do I constantly need a rapid intake of work to feel productive?  Of course not!

Though I’m not getting paid, I still work for myself.  I write, play music, attempt to cook, mow a lawn here or there, keep busy with friends, attend weddings; the list goes on.  It’s not obvious experience for career building like an internship or a job with a steady income, but it keeps my mind healthy.  I get to tune the skills that keep me excited and open to other possibilities.  I’m only bored if I choose to be.  Not all work consists of text books and pay checks.  If I view any work as worthy of my time, it is worthy of my time.

Summer has hit and to me that means one thing: concerts. Festivals like Bonnaroo, Lollapalooza, Pitchfork, and a slew of others. The music is usually enough to keep anyone focused and dancing, but some concerts sometimes require a little bit more. It seems slightly sacrilegious to attend a Dropkick Murphys or Gogol Bordello show without at least a little bit of liquor in your belly.

However, this can be problematic when you’re working an 8-hour gig in order to pay for rent, gas, concert tickets, let alone $4.50 for a single shot of Jack Daniels or a 3-dollar beer from the hassled bartender at the side of the stage. What is an honest concert loving American to do?

The only real options to gaining alcohol is to pony up your hard earned cash after you already bought your pricey ticket.  Or, better yet, sneak it in. The only problem is that concert venues recognize this as a very tempting option as well. Classic tactics such as flasks, bottles in coat pockets, and even pints in the sock are failing in the face of increased security and prolonged pat downs.

There are some quality products such as The Beerbelly, which is made up of a neoprene and a polyurethane bladder with a tube for dispensing. In layman’s terms, it’s a plastic bag you strap to your belly that imitates the stomach of a college senior in a frat and has a tube that conveniently dispenses beer or liquor into your mouth. The only problem with products like this is that they cost $49.95 for a basic model.

I’ve luckily happened upon a tactic while I was studying in Ecuador that works perfectly for concerts. In many Ecuadorian stores and gas stations it is customary that you drink any soda or beer you might purchase in the store or near the premises. This is so that the storeowners don’t have to risk losing the bottles which they can return to the bottling companies for money. To avoid this risk, they will give you your beverage in the equivalent of a “to-go sack”. This is simply a plastic lunch sack that they pour the beverage into and tie up at one end. It holds carbonation surprisingly well and can be drank by ripping out a corner of the bag and sipping until it’s gone.

The benefit of these plastic sacks is that it can feel very much like the fillings of any pair of briefs or a bra. It can be attached to articles of clothing by simple pressure, a twist tie, or a small amount of any adhesive. These bags can easily hold 12-16 oz. with very little risk of spilling.

I’d recommend using mixed drinks or beer because once the whole is ripped or the top is opened it is fairly difficult to get it closed again. This can lead to the bags being drank quite quickly, and a lunch sack of Jager or vodka can get you well past the point of enjoying the concert, unless you want to hear the band’s hot new track from inside a bathroom stall.