This is the one bull that, so far as anyone could tell, got away. It didn't want to fight, probably having heard it was hardly an even contest, and frustrated all the efforts of picadors and matador to goad it into a suitably combative mood.
And so, maybe to its own surprise, the bull was spared the matador's sword, and was hurried out of the ring to whatever fate awaited it.
Nevertheless, a bull is pretty much a bull and looking at that photo is unlikely to help you answer the headline's question.
Here, above, is the first clue. A very Spanish-looking scene, and girls can just about be seen practising their flamenco steps. The bar shown below borrows its name from a Spanish island ...
The child in the next photograph, just two if I correctly remember the conversation with her mother, is charmingly decked out in Spanish gypsy clothing. If you think she is looking less than ecstatic about being asked to smile for the camera, you should have seen the other photos I took of her. Mum had readily consented to pictures being taken, little Leonie had other ideas.
The fair was set up outside the bullring. Inside, la corrida was to take the form of a duel between two young stars of bullfighting, the extremely Spanish-sounding Juan Bautista and Mehdi Savallo, whose father is Moroccan and mother Italian. I recall interviewing Savallo six years ago; he told me he deeply disliked the tendency of the Spanish press to call him the Muslim Matador.
Familiar extracts from Carmen, played in the arena by the band, punctuated the proceedings as the two men took it in turns to dispatch the poor beasts sent out to confront them. Some of the spectators called out in Spanish their words of encouragement and occasional criticism.
I had a professional interest in what was going on, but cannot deny that like Eric and Ernie before me - Cantona and Hemingway, that is - I appreciate the colour, tradition and style of much of what I see in the bullring even if I loathe the injury and finally death inflicted on half a dozen creatures.
Both matadors had their moments but Savallo was the more assured and flamboyant fighter and won the contest.
And you may have worked out for yourselves that this was not an event taking place in Spain at all. I was at the arena in Palavas-les-Flots in the Camargue and both matadors were born and brought up not far away in Arles.
France has taken the slightly curious step of officially listing la corrida as part of its national heritage.
There is history on France's side. It has been practised there since the start of the 18th century, though formal events began a lot later, midway through the 19th century. On the other hand, it is an activity that attracts increasing disapproval, to the extent that even in Spain, public service TV no longer screens it and Catalonia - ie Barcelona - has decided to ban it.
Brigitte Bardot and other French welfare campaigners are livid, the country is divided and the culture minister minister Frédéric Mitterrand, nephew of the late president, is clearly uncomfortable about it and says the listing may not last.
Click this link if you are interested in seeing what I made of it for The National, Abu Dhabi.
The real clue that I was talking about France and not Spain, if you leave aside the fact that I tend to do so more often than not, was the French wording on the jacket of the man walking towards the Ibiza bar.
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