Fallas

The plan to go to Valencia for the Fallas fire festival had been talked about for a while but came together rapidly at the last minute. We booked a rental car from Avis on Thursday night (€80 for 3 days), showed up at their office on Gran Via on Friday afternoon really hoping they weren't going to insist on seeing our driver's paper license that he didn't have, but next thing we knew we were pulling out onto Madrid's main thoroughfare and past a couple of it's major landmarks in the warm evening sun. For a city of 6 million, Madrid is incredibly easy to get out of by car and we were soon coasting down the Motorway heading towards Valencia and the rising apogee moon in a rough two car convoy including 4 Brits, an Irishwoman, a Mongolian, a Romanian, an American and an Italian.

Arriving in Valencia after dark on the night before Fallas, I didn't really know what to expect. You hear a lot about the tomato throwing in Bunyol and the bull running Pamplona, but I'd not read or heard much about Fallas, despite it being held in Spain's third biggest city. What to expect, however, soon became apparent from the booming of what sounded like heavy gunfire coming from the city centre and the 3 year-old boy playing with firecrackers on his fathers lap... It's not an event overly concerned with health and safety! After meeting up with 3 Spanish brothers who our Mongolian had met in Mongolia that were amazingly lending us an apartment for the weekend, we all headed into the busy city centre amid bangs and flashes and saw a couple of the beautifully detailed and sculpted fallas (the huge creations in every neighbourhood that were to be burned the next night), tried some bunuelos (deep fried pumpkin pastry things) and saw a some live bands on a stage in the middle of a street in the centre. It's like a giant street party that takes over the whole city! And this wasn't even the night itself...

We woke up late the next day, despite the incessant explosions outside, with moderate-to-fair hangovers. Looking out the window, a cloud of smoke hung in the tangy air and walking down the street in the sunshine, surrounded by palm trees with explosives going off in all directions, it felt like we'd gone on holiday to Libya. We went off and found a crowd of people gathered for one of the 2pm firework shows which culminated in one of the most deafening series of bangs I've ever heard. Afterwards the firework technician guys come out and are treated like celebrities, getting photos taken with the women all got up in traditional Valencian falleras dress and even kissing babies! Instant heroes.

Last paella in town!

Anyway, this was followed by what turned into an epic quest for paella around the centre of Valencia during which we got to see some of the beautiful old town and some more children setting off fireworks. The town is so packed with people for Fallas that not only do all the hotels and hostels sell out months in advance but you can't even find any restaurants that still have any food at 3 in the afternoon! We were seriously lucky to have a place to stay though, there's no way you'll find somewhere last minute, although apparently a lot of people just sleep on the beach. The most creative solution we saw that night though was a load of people who had got into one of the card access bits of a bank and set up camp!

After finally finding what seemed like the last paella in town and seeing some more huge and intricate fallas, that come in all different shapes and sizes from joyous to bizarre, sexy to childish and satirical to downright dirty but all somehow manage to conform to a similar style, we headed for the town hall square to catch the fire parade featuring devils spraying sparks all over the street. This, however, is only the precursor to the main event which is la crema, the lighting of the fallas themselves at around midnight. We spent a while waiting for the big 'Jessica Rabbit' type one to go up, rather than pack into the town hall square for the main one but then decided to run around and look for the first ones to go. We soon came across the 'Bombers', as they (fittingly) call the Bomberos in Valencia, preparing for the burning of a 3 story high American themed one featuring a giant donut. Before the burning, someone hangs firecrackers over the falla and then pours a bit of petrol on for good measure. I was amazed by how quickly the thing went up! All that work and whooph! The heat is intense as well and the crowd shied back from where the Bombers had moved us. I was holding the camera in front of my face to sheild it! Meanwhile, the Bombers were concentrating their efforts, and their hoses, on a nearby building that was coming close to getting engulfed in flames... and then it was all over! They don't last very long, so we ran off to find another.

I have to admit, I was actually in a shop buying beer when the Jessica Rabbit one went up so I missed the best part but the heat from it was incredibly intense even at the back so god knows what it was like at the front. A big gasp went up when an overhanging part fell off too, in what surely can't have been a controlled manner! Once that had died down, it was on to the next one, and we ended up perched on the side of a stage in a more open square to witness a very unexpected spectacle. When the Bombers arrived, a mustachioed chap was presented to the crowdn and paraded around the square, and it became apparent that he was a local fireman, from that neighbourhood, who was retiring next week. Soon the whole crowd was chanting his name: 'Ximo! Ximo!' and he was on stage with the local fallera (an older lady who was soaking up all the adulation too), being presented with various tokens of appreciation and being tearfully interviewed in front of a TV camera. It was a lovely little local celebration to witness, and makes you remember that the fallas are still prepared on a neighbourhood basis, even though we were chatting to a group of Mexican tourists while we watched it all.

Eventually, the falla went up like the rest, in shower of sparks from fireworks strung around the square, and burned down to a smouldering heap, at which point the more boisterous sections of the crowd started teasing the firemen, chanting “Bomberos! Maricons!” (roughly “Firemen! Bunch of fairies!”) and the Bombers started spraying the them with their hoses in retaliation. It was all in done in good humour though and everyone seemed to be having a great time! Whenever one section of the crowd was drowned out by hoses, another section would take up the chant, very funny to watch. You'd never see something like that happen in England, at least not without punches being thrown!

 

Anyway, a great night, and a chance to get a bit of (cold) beach in the next day too. I can't recommend Fallas enough, if you get the chance to go. You'll never see anything like it. It's like bonfire night on steroids, and without health and safety supervision. Also, renting a car was definitely a good option, at €80 for the car and about €70 for the petrol, it's fine split between 4 or more. The main problem was finding somewhere to park! I think some more weekend trips will have to follow, where next?

Home James, and don't spare the horsepower (but do stay under the 110kmph speed limit)