What strange things survive in this world. Take Wisden's five cricketers of the year, the annual announcement of which still manages to generate column inches and debate. The rules remain as they always have been. A cricketer of the year cannot have been a previous cricketer of the year. It's an endearing principle but distinctly potty.
In fact, don't just take the five cricketers (for the record, Ben Duckett, Misbah-ul-Haq, Toby Roland-Jones, Chris Woakes and Younis Khan), take Wisden full stop. It is like a great aunt indulged at Christmas, who stubbornly insists on imbibing ginger wine that had gone out of fashion even before Christmases acquired a veneer of contemporary oenological sophistication. Year after year, auntie is wheeled out simply because she is auntie.
Which is not to decry either Wisden or great aunts, just that the former is a relic of days gone by. It occupies a past together with the FA Cup Final, a reminder of how there was once only one live football match per year on the telly (save perhaps the odd international) and of how once a year the previous year's cricket would be revealed for all to dissect and digest. Page after page after page of scorecards replete with their short reports. All our yesterdays of what must have been tortuous and chilly June days in Chesterfield as E. Smith of Derbyshire bowled maiden over after maiden over to J. van Geloven of Leicestershire, as the visitors ground out a snail-like 180 in the six hours (when lunch was always at half one and tea was taken at ten past four).
There is, nevertheless, a sense of reassurance. The anachronistic can cling to its past even in the present day. Tweaks mean that Wisden is no longer a yellow-backed housebrick-sized homage to empire that had long faded. It is now a yellow-backed housebrick-sized tribute to the empire having struck back, IPL, Big Bash and all. But with Cricinfo available at the click of a mouse, its inherent backdated-ness accords it more the function of coffee-table adornment than one-time cricketing avidity.
Still, traditions die hard, even more recent ones and those founded not on mouse clicks or tablet touches. Rather like the five cricketers, these have their rules, those which grant them a superior status. Cricket websites' best-of-the-year cricketers, even sports personalities of the year and, horror of horror, Eurovision song contestants have succumbed to the totality of technologies in removing or reducing the carefully weighed deliberations of judges, abiding with the letter of the rules (well, maybe not in the case of Eurovision). The great unwashed in cyber and text lands cannot be trusted to do likewise.
I offer a Mallorcan example, that of Fornalutx. To the confusion of many, most of them in Pollensa it seems, Fornalutx isn't the only prettiest village on the island. The fact is that Fornalutx is the only prettiest village. That's because the association which determines prettiest villages says so. It despatched clipboard-bearing judges to rummage under dry stones, ramble through orange groves and to reconnoitre the village's cleaning system in confirming prettiness. It is unique to Mallorca, and nary an inhabitant of social networks was allowed anywhere near the judges, lest they be contaminated by popular prejudice. The great confusion arose because Pollensa had appeared on one of those blessed website things, the ones where any old Tom, Dick or Harry can register his vote. Moreover, it more or less borrowed the prettiest accolade in extending the nominations beyond just villages. The prettiest villages' association probably needs to think about a registered trademark, if it hasn't already.
There is of course another way in which Wisden is a survivor. Its sheer physical presence. You simply can't avoid it, so large is it. Indeed, such is its bulk that it can be used to keep any door open and withstand up to a force eight gale ramming into the door. While other giants of the print media may have gone the way of all Wikipedias or just Google, Wisden's voracious appetite for paper keeps entire industries afloat.
It is this, the physical nature of the hard copy, that can seem the most curious manifestation of Wisden of the current day. Yet it is anything but curious. Tangibility, holding something which isn't a device and that has the essence of presence, accounts for a great deal, even today. So is also the case with much of what Mallorca churns out for tourism. The island may be poorly served by digital applications (those from official, governmental sources) but it is still weighed under by the amount of paper. Apps and so on abound, but promotional publications are far from being in retreat.
Why is this? The answer is easy. Tradition, reassurance, tangibility; all to be cherished.
Showing posts with label Fornalutx. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fornalutx. Show all posts
Thursday, April 06, 2017
Friday, October 28, 2016
Which Is The Prettiest Village Of Them All?
Rather like restaurants and chefs need to meet strict criteria for Michelin scrutineers, so a village must also come up to standards if it wishes to be among the prettiest - a pueblo that is among the "más bonito".
Los Pueblos más Bonitos de España is an association that was founded in 2011. It took as its model Les Plus Beaux Villages de France. Its aims are: to promote, disseminate and preserve cultural, natural and rural heritage as well as raise awareness of the values of this heritage while also promoting cultural tourism and areas with low levels of industrialisation.
To qualify for inclusion as más bonito a pueblo must have no more than 15,000 inhabitants. In the case of Mallorca, therefore, most "municipalities" could be eligible; most municipalities in Spain could be as well. Having 15,000 people makes a place pretty big when one considers that Fornalutx can muster only around 700. Indeed, having up to 15,000 people would suggest that village status is no longer feasible. There again, we're talking pueblos here; the definition, as in village, town or even hamlet terms can be difficult to pin down precisely.
But Fornalutx, population-wise, unquestionably has village status. What, however, makes it pretty and one of the latest pueblos to be added to the más bonito hall of fame? Experts from the association say that all criteria are met. There is notable architectural heritage. Urban (sic) cleaning is of a high order. There is preservation of building fronts, even of car parks. There are plants on the streets. Water is well managed (though maybe the drought might have something to say about this).
There must, one feels, be rather more to it than this lot. By these criteria, one would think that a whole host of Mallorcan villages (hamlets, whatever) could make the list. Perhaps they will, but then the más bonito list is pretty exclusive. If there were hundreds, thousands of pretty places, the list would no longer be pretty exclusive. As it is, Fornalutx can boast that it is not just the prettiest pueblo in Mallorca, it is the island's only pretty pueblo. Until its recent elevation to the ranks, Mallorca and the Balearics didn't feature on the list.
There are parts of Spain which, according to the list, are prettier than others. Of the 48 in all that are now on it, there is a significant bias in favour of two regions - Aragon and Castile and Leon. Which isn't to say that they don't deserve to be; just that having around half of the prettiest pueblos between them seems a little odd.
The judging committee is presumably immune to outside influences, such as those of social media and the internet. There are other más bonito-type listings. In the case of the website Toprural, it doesn't just have más bonito, it has "maravillosos": the seven wonders of Spain's rural environment. Among the candidates this year isn't Fornalutx but Valldemossa. Of the remaining nineteen against which Valldemossa is pitched are some pueblos familiar to the más bonito list. Valldemossa would appear to need to go some to force itself on to the seven wonders' podium. Much will probably depend on how coherent its social media campaign will be. Rather like Trip Advisor and its best-of lists, anything that is decided by social media and the internet needs to be treated with a touch of scepticism. Still, it does wonders for internet traffic if you invite users to vote for wonders.
Likewise, there is an entirely different más bonito list. The news website 20minutos has one. Sixty pueblos in all are up for voting grabs. There can be only one winner, and the front-runner at present is San Vicente de la Barquera in Cantabria. It has some 55,000 more votes than the first entrant for Mallorca. Which is? Fornalutx? No, it's Pollensa. Fornalutx doesn't get a look in. Is Valldemossa among the sixty? No, but Portocolom is. The only other place in Mallorca, it's way down among the also-rans.
The judges from the más bonito association are likely, one would feel, to be more objective than internet users who might vote for a place purely because they live there or have been there on holiday. The association's list also carries cachet. Fornalutx will take its place on the international tourist stage when it is honoured at Madrid's travel fair. So well done, Fornalutx. Just don't go complaining that there are too many tourists, now that the accolade has been bestowed.
* Photo of Fornalutx from Wikipedia.
Wednesday, April 27, 2016
Under Attack: Fornalutx
The village of Fornalutx in the Tramuntana is a pretty place, and there are those who will say that it is Mallorca's prettiest. This has been officially recognised. The Fomento del Turismo (Mallorca Tourist Board) once awarded it the silver plaque for the defence and maintenance of the village. The national tourism ministry also gave it an award, as did GOB, the environmental group. Yes, it's a pretty place, but with an ugly side.
According to the figure for 2015, Fornalutx has a population of 703. This small settlement of people has much to be proud of. However, in September 2013, as an example, more than 21,000 people signed a petition directed at something which they considered the population of the village should not be proud of. At the weekend, some 250 people defended it.
The animal-rights group AnimaNaturalis recently posted a video onto its Facebook page. "This is exactly what the supporters of bull events do not want recording." It shows the commencement of the "correbou", the bull-run. The bull, with ropes tied to both horns, jumps, turns over, gets up, turns over. The slow-motion writhing and leaping ceases as the run gets underway, the bull pursued by a number of fiesta revellers.
The 250 may all have been from Fornalutx. If so, then over a third of the village turned out in defence of the correbou. This defence has official support. The town hall has made clear that it disagrees with the correbou's inclusion in the government's amendment of the 1992 animal protection law. Under this, any event in which an animal suffers will be outlawed. This official support extends to PSOE. The party in the village is likely to split from the regional party, one of the sponsors of the amendment.
The more than 21,000 who signed the 2013 petition quite clearly didn't all live in Fornalutx. How many residents of the village might have signed? How many residents of the village are themselves opposed to the correbou? There have to be some, but ... . It was once explained to me, apropos the bullfight in Alcudia, that it was awkward for the Mallorcan population to show their opposition. There were different reasons why. It is now becoming less awkward. Opinion has turned. Only Muro, it might be said, is as obstinate as a bull itself in clinging steadfastly to its "tradition". In the village of Fornalutx, though; well, it is a small place.
In 2010, Guardia Civil officers needed to draw batons. A protest by AnimaNaturalis, staged in the centre of the village, drew considerable opposition, some of it violent. The photographic evidence of this was revealing. It was not only the older population who were angered by the protest. So were the young. Assuming they were all from Fornalutx.
There is a great deal of evidence - photographic, video - of the bull-run. Some of it can seem surprising. Not all those looking on are locals. There are tourists as well. Cameras and smartphones at the ready. What do they see? Tradition, culture, the highlight of the village's summer fiesta. They also see an animal being tormented. In an odd sense, there is more to despise about the correbou than the bullfight. There are those, and one has to take their word, who profess respect, even love for the bulls that they slaughter in the bullring. This stems perhaps from the old honour of the bullfight: honour for both parties - the slayer and the slain. The correbou has none of this. Or appears not to. A bull is run for the sheer hell of it. Where's the respect or the love?
The feelings of the whole village are not being taken into consideration, has said the mayor, Antoni Aguiló. The whole village? All 703 of them? The weight of villager support, even if it may not be total, is nevertheless great. In the face of legislative prohibition, in the face of the numbers of those signing petitions which overwhelm the numbers in this small village, in the face of condemnation and the campaigning, the villagers defend their right to the correbou. It is part of village identity, part of being a "fornalutxenc". If your identity is threatened, would you not seek to defend it? Or does the symbolism, the manifestation of this identity disqualify the right to a defence?
The same line of argument can be made for the so-called national party of the bullfight. The nation's identity is under attack, it will be argued. But this is an identity that is clearly not felt by many (a majority even), while the comparison is invalidated by scale. This is a small village clinging to a relic of its past, a definition. A closing of ranks is understandable.
The ban will surely apply to the correbou. It will produce cheers and jeers in unequal measure. Fornalutx will still be pretty.
According to the figure for 2015, Fornalutx has a population of 703. This small settlement of people has much to be proud of. However, in September 2013, as an example, more than 21,000 people signed a petition directed at something which they considered the population of the village should not be proud of. At the weekend, some 250 people defended it.
The animal-rights group AnimaNaturalis recently posted a video onto its Facebook page. "This is exactly what the supporters of bull events do not want recording." It shows the commencement of the "correbou", the bull-run. The bull, with ropes tied to both horns, jumps, turns over, gets up, turns over. The slow-motion writhing and leaping ceases as the run gets underway, the bull pursued by a number of fiesta revellers.
The 250 may all have been from Fornalutx. If so, then over a third of the village turned out in defence of the correbou. This defence has official support. The town hall has made clear that it disagrees with the correbou's inclusion in the government's amendment of the 1992 animal protection law. Under this, any event in which an animal suffers will be outlawed. This official support extends to PSOE. The party in the village is likely to split from the regional party, one of the sponsors of the amendment.
The more than 21,000 who signed the 2013 petition quite clearly didn't all live in Fornalutx. How many residents of the village might have signed? How many residents of the village are themselves opposed to the correbou? There have to be some, but ... . It was once explained to me, apropos the bullfight in Alcudia, that it was awkward for the Mallorcan population to show their opposition. There were different reasons why. It is now becoming less awkward. Opinion has turned. Only Muro, it might be said, is as obstinate as a bull itself in clinging steadfastly to its "tradition". In the village of Fornalutx, though; well, it is a small place.
In 2010, Guardia Civil officers needed to draw batons. A protest by AnimaNaturalis, staged in the centre of the village, drew considerable opposition, some of it violent. The photographic evidence of this was revealing. It was not only the older population who were angered by the protest. So were the young. Assuming they were all from Fornalutx.
There is a great deal of evidence - photographic, video - of the bull-run. Some of it can seem surprising. Not all those looking on are locals. There are tourists as well. Cameras and smartphones at the ready. What do they see? Tradition, culture, the highlight of the village's summer fiesta. They also see an animal being tormented. In an odd sense, there is more to despise about the correbou than the bullfight. There are those, and one has to take their word, who profess respect, even love for the bulls that they slaughter in the bullring. This stems perhaps from the old honour of the bullfight: honour for both parties - the slayer and the slain. The correbou has none of this. Or appears not to. A bull is run for the sheer hell of it. Where's the respect or the love?
The feelings of the whole village are not being taken into consideration, has said the mayor, Antoni Aguiló. The whole village? All 703 of them? The weight of villager support, even if it may not be total, is nevertheless great. In the face of legislative prohibition, in the face of the numbers of those signing petitions which overwhelm the numbers in this small village, in the face of condemnation and the campaigning, the villagers defend their right to the correbou. It is part of village identity, part of being a "fornalutxenc". If your identity is threatened, would you not seek to defend it? Or does the symbolism, the manifestation of this identity disqualify the right to a defence?
The same line of argument can be made for the so-called national party of the bullfight. The nation's identity is under attack, it will be argued. But this is an identity that is clearly not felt by many (a majority even), while the comparison is invalidated by scale. This is a small village clinging to a relic of its past, a definition. A closing of ranks is understandable.
The ban will surely apply to the correbou. It will produce cheers and jeers in unequal measure. Fornalutx will still be pretty.
Friday, September 23, 2011
The Last Bull In Barcelona
On Sunday evening the last bull in Barcelona, the last bull in Catalonia, will meet its maker, skewered on the matador's sword of truth. The final red cape will come down on bullfighting in Catalonia and on the bullring, the Monumental, bringing to an end almost one hundred years of the "corrida" in the arena. On 1 January next year the Catalonian ban on bullfighting comes into effect. The bull is dead; long live the bull.
The ban, a largely political manoeuvre of anti-Spanishness dressed up behind the cloak of animal rights, will be only the second such prohibition in Spain. Others may follow, and if they were to, they would genuinely be in the name of animal rights. Driven by popular petition, to which the Catalonian parliament was not obliged to accede, the ban is colossally hypocritical; the bull-runs (the "correbous"), which are a Catalan tradition, are unaffected, while the bullfight, never a particularly strong tradition in Catalonia and far more associated with "Spain", will be no more.
Or will it be no more? The politics of the bullfight are far more complex than the process that brought about the Catalonia ban, a process that allows for possible changes to laws on the basis of petitions (the so-called popular legislative initiatives). The national elections are looming, and Catalonia could yet find itself back to square one, and the bull, who might have looked forward to a long and happy life, could yet find itself back in the circle of the arena.
The national government has more or less abrogated any responsibility for decision-making regarding the bullfight. Despite it having effected a transfer of administrative oversight from the interior ministry to the culture ministry, and having also accepted that the bullfight is of cultural importance, it is left to regional governments to arbitrate on the bullfight's future, if they so wish.
However, the Partido Popular, set to win the elections in November and generally in favour of the bullfight (or at least not particularly against it), may choose to challenge the right of the regions to decide. Catalonian PP members, of which there are indeed some, suggest that a constitutional court could decree that the regions don't have the competency to decide. An opposite view is that the national constitutional court could not overturn Catalonian legislation.
The PP, justified in arguing that the ban lacks coherence given the non-ban on bull-runs, could make the bullfight an electoral issue, but it would be one of even greater irrelevance than fox-hunting was when Tony Blair was brandishing his animal-rights credentials; Spain has matters of far greater importance to worry about than bullfighting and than Labour had to.
It would be a political mistake in any event. Though support for the bullfight might play well in some parts of Spain, the Spanish no longer much care for the bullfight; overwhelmingly so, to the tune of about two to one. Moreover, the economics of bullfighting, for which there are conflicting views as to how much it contributes to national or local coffers, are such that it isn't cheap to stage. Allied to the costs of bullfighting, there is the fact that the number of events has slumped dramatically - by over a third between 2007 and 2010.
Geographical variance in terms of popular support or rejection of bullfighting tends to bolster the current situation of allowing the regions to decide as to its future. Catalonia is a special case, as it always is a special case, but the ban there does nevertheless reflect an indifference towards bullfighting.
In Mallorca, where politicians at the time of the announcement of the Catalonia ban were divided as to whether they would support or not a similar move in the Balearics, the indifference is of a different order. Protests against bullfights and indeed against the island's only correbou (that of Fornalutx, one that is not as disturbing as those in Catalonia where flames come from the end of the bulls' horns) are token. Indeed the Fornalutx correbou protest this year, shunted off into a sports arena and ignored by the locals at the request of the mayor, was a PR fiasco.
For many, the Catalonia ban looked as though it might spell the end of the bullfight in Spain as a whole. It was never likely to because of the peculiarities of Catalonian politics; from November it will be even less likely.
The bull is dead. Long live the bull? Maybe not, and in Catalonia maybe not. The sword of truth may stay only briefly in its sheath, to return one day to the Monumental.
Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.
The ban, a largely political manoeuvre of anti-Spanishness dressed up behind the cloak of animal rights, will be only the second such prohibition in Spain. Others may follow, and if they were to, they would genuinely be in the name of animal rights. Driven by popular petition, to which the Catalonian parliament was not obliged to accede, the ban is colossally hypocritical; the bull-runs (the "correbous"), which are a Catalan tradition, are unaffected, while the bullfight, never a particularly strong tradition in Catalonia and far more associated with "Spain", will be no more.
Or will it be no more? The politics of the bullfight are far more complex than the process that brought about the Catalonia ban, a process that allows for possible changes to laws on the basis of petitions (the so-called popular legislative initiatives). The national elections are looming, and Catalonia could yet find itself back to square one, and the bull, who might have looked forward to a long and happy life, could yet find itself back in the circle of the arena.
The national government has more or less abrogated any responsibility for decision-making regarding the bullfight. Despite it having effected a transfer of administrative oversight from the interior ministry to the culture ministry, and having also accepted that the bullfight is of cultural importance, it is left to regional governments to arbitrate on the bullfight's future, if they so wish.
However, the Partido Popular, set to win the elections in November and generally in favour of the bullfight (or at least not particularly against it), may choose to challenge the right of the regions to decide. Catalonian PP members, of which there are indeed some, suggest that a constitutional court could decree that the regions don't have the competency to decide. An opposite view is that the national constitutional court could not overturn Catalonian legislation.
The PP, justified in arguing that the ban lacks coherence given the non-ban on bull-runs, could make the bullfight an electoral issue, but it would be one of even greater irrelevance than fox-hunting was when Tony Blair was brandishing his animal-rights credentials; Spain has matters of far greater importance to worry about than bullfighting and than Labour had to.
It would be a political mistake in any event. Though support for the bullfight might play well in some parts of Spain, the Spanish no longer much care for the bullfight; overwhelmingly so, to the tune of about two to one. Moreover, the economics of bullfighting, for which there are conflicting views as to how much it contributes to national or local coffers, are such that it isn't cheap to stage. Allied to the costs of bullfighting, there is the fact that the number of events has slumped dramatically - by over a third between 2007 and 2010.
Geographical variance in terms of popular support or rejection of bullfighting tends to bolster the current situation of allowing the regions to decide as to its future. Catalonia is a special case, as it always is a special case, but the ban there does nevertheless reflect an indifference towards bullfighting.
In Mallorca, where politicians at the time of the announcement of the Catalonia ban were divided as to whether they would support or not a similar move in the Balearics, the indifference is of a different order. Protests against bullfights and indeed against the island's only correbou (that of Fornalutx, one that is not as disturbing as those in Catalonia where flames come from the end of the bulls' horns) are token. Indeed the Fornalutx correbou protest this year, shunted off into a sports arena and ignored by the locals at the request of the mayor, was a PR fiasco.
For many, the Catalonia ban looked as though it might spell the end of the bullfight in Spain as a whole. It was never likely to because of the peculiarities of Catalonian politics; from November it will be even less likely.
The bull is dead. Long live the bull? Maybe not, and in Catalonia maybe not. The sword of truth may stay only briefly in its sheath, to return one day to the Monumental.
Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.
Thursday, September 02, 2010
The Horn Of A Dilemma: Correbou and animal traditions
The animal right-ists have been getting into a right old tizz again. There was a barney in Fornalutx on Sunday when the Anima Naturalis group protested against the annual "correbou" in this village near Soller. Locals, in favour of the event, reckoned that the group, all twenty or so of them, acted "provocatively". There was a scrap, the boys in green got involved, a car window was smashed, and insults were hurled.
Anima Naturalis flew solo on Sunday. Other animal-rights groups had condemned the protest, as they believed they were edging towards an agreement with the village mayor to introduce changes to the correbou. That process may have been harmed by the protest. Amenable the mayor may be to changes, but this didn't stop town (village?) hall representatives siding with the pro-correbou-ists.
The correbou involves a bull being hauled, cajoled, run - describe it as you will - through the streets on the end of ropes. In Fornalutx they don't apply fire to the horns, as is the case with similar events in Catalonia, but the animal is taunted before being dragged off to the slaughterhouse, cut up and nosebagged by carnivorous locals. The correbou is primitive, with none of the spectacular and ceremony of the "corrida". There is no pretence of dignity, honour even, being afforded to the bull, as is the case with the bullfight. The animal is, essentially, the object of derision, and there is simply no comparison with other animal events, such as the innately potty duck tossing in Can Picafort.
A letter-writer to yesterday's "Bulletin" took the editor to task for defending both the bullfight and the correbou and for calling for a "compromise" that would satisfy those in favour and those against these events. This compromise was not enunciated; it's an empty call when you don't explain what this might entail. I was more taken aback by the editor's admission that he had never attended a bullfight. One can hold opinions as to bullfights without witnessing them first hand, but without experiencing them one fails to get a complete understanding. Such journalistic incuriosity is staggering.
Nevertheless, some sort of a compromise might yet occur in Fornalutx. The mayor has apparently been talking about shortening the "run" itself, holding it on a working day when fewer would attend and not having the bull crowned with a laurel wreath. None of this will sound like a better deal to the bull if it is still subjected to the taunts and ends up between two chunks of bread. Besides which, it is the kill or the angering of the bull that most spectators of a bullfight or correbou expect, a point the letter-writer makes.
What is clear, though, is that there is a growing movement against alleged animal cruelty during fiestas, be it the bullfight (as in Alcúdia and Muro for example), the correbou, the duck throwing of Can Picafort or the cock on a soapy tree in Pollensa. What is also clear is that emotions are being heightened and, in certain instances, the law being flouted. The traditions are so ingrained, though, that it is difficult to see how they can be undone. There are calls for there to be no animals involved in any fiesta events, but even where the law intervenes, it is obeyed reluctantly (as by Santa Margalida town hall in the case of the ducks). And what happens when and if the law does step in? We now have Tony Blair, who had made a fox-hunting ban an electoral pledge, admitting he got that wrong. And British traditions are nothing like as strong as Mallorcan or Spanish ones. But a question about the law, which is a bit of an ass and a load of bull. How can the ducks of Can Picafort be subject to law on animal protection and the bulls of Fornalutx not? It's hypocritical, and as I have suggested before, the ducks are a far easier target.
Here are photos of the aggro in Fornalutx. The chap who is daubed in black was meant to portray the bull. Some locals reckoned it was racist, thus completely (and probably deliberately) missing the point. What you mostly see in these photos are shots of the Guardia contending with the locals who support the correbou. What seems evident is that this support comes from all age groups, but especially younger ones; something which you might not have expected.
http://comunidad.diariodemallorca.es/galeria-multimedia/Mallorca/Batalla-campal-Fornalutx/17508/1.html
Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.
Anima Naturalis flew solo on Sunday. Other animal-rights groups had condemned the protest, as they believed they were edging towards an agreement with the village mayor to introduce changes to the correbou. That process may have been harmed by the protest. Amenable the mayor may be to changes, but this didn't stop town (village?) hall representatives siding with the pro-correbou-ists.
The correbou involves a bull being hauled, cajoled, run - describe it as you will - through the streets on the end of ropes. In Fornalutx they don't apply fire to the horns, as is the case with similar events in Catalonia, but the animal is taunted before being dragged off to the slaughterhouse, cut up and nosebagged by carnivorous locals. The correbou is primitive, with none of the spectacular and ceremony of the "corrida". There is no pretence of dignity, honour even, being afforded to the bull, as is the case with the bullfight. The animal is, essentially, the object of derision, and there is simply no comparison with other animal events, such as the innately potty duck tossing in Can Picafort.
A letter-writer to yesterday's "Bulletin" took the editor to task for defending both the bullfight and the correbou and for calling for a "compromise" that would satisfy those in favour and those against these events. This compromise was not enunciated; it's an empty call when you don't explain what this might entail. I was more taken aback by the editor's admission that he had never attended a bullfight. One can hold opinions as to bullfights without witnessing them first hand, but without experiencing them one fails to get a complete understanding. Such journalistic incuriosity is staggering.
Nevertheless, some sort of a compromise might yet occur in Fornalutx. The mayor has apparently been talking about shortening the "run" itself, holding it on a working day when fewer would attend and not having the bull crowned with a laurel wreath. None of this will sound like a better deal to the bull if it is still subjected to the taunts and ends up between two chunks of bread. Besides which, it is the kill or the angering of the bull that most spectators of a bullfight or correbou expect, a point the letter-writer makes.
What is clear, though, is that there is a growing movement against alleged animal cruelty during fiestas, be it the bullfight (as in Alcúdia and Muro for example), the correbou, the duck throwing of Can Picafort or the cock on a soapy tree in Pollensa. What is also clear is that emotions are being heightened and, in certain instances, the law being flouted. The traditions are so ingrained, though, that it is difficult to see how they can be undone. There are calls for there to be no animals involved in any fiesta events, but even where the law intervenes, it is obeyed reluctantly (as by Santa Margalida town hall in the case of the ducks). And what happens when and if the law does step in? We now have Tony Blair, who had made a fox-hunting ban an electoral pledge, admitting he got that wrong. And British traditions are nothing like as strong as Mallorcan or Spanish ones. But a question about the law, which is a bit of an ass and a load of bull. How can the ducks of Can Picafort be subject to law on animal protection and the bulls of Fornalutx not? It's hypocritical, and as I have suggested before, the ducks are a far easier target.
Here are photos of the aggro in Fornalutx. The chap who is daubed in black was meant to portray the bull. Some locals reckoned it was racist, thus completely (and probably deliberately) missing the point. What you mostly see in these photos are shots of the Guardia contending with the locals who support the correbou. What seems evident is that this support comes from all age groups, but especially younger ones; something which you might not have expected.
http://comunidad.diariodemallorca.es/galeria-multimedia/Mallorca/Batalla-campal-Fornalutx/17508/1.html
Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
