"In going where you have to go, and doing what you have to do, and seeing what you have to see, you dull and blunt the instrument you write with. But I would rather have it bent and dull and have to put it on the grindstone again and know I had something to write about, than to have it bright and shining and nothing to say."
--Ernest Hemingway
On Thursday morning I woke up at 8 AM to a marching band parading down the street outside my window. The
trumpets and drums were extremely loud, and after a few futile attempts at muffling their joyful song, I decided
to give in and just do what they asked.
So I got up and walked out on the balcony and this is what I found:
only time I've ever seen my neighbor!
The rest of the city, like myself, seemed to still be in that half-awake, still-asleep phase, but the parade sure did their
best to speed up that process! When they
rounded the corner and filed out of sight, I pulled the curtains closed for
Taylor and stumbled down to breakfast, where I found a different selection than usual: in addition to the everyday toast and tomato sauce, cereal and
room-temperature milk, bananas and fruit juice, I found a glass pitcher
with steaming hot chocolate, and next to that, a baking sheet covered in
“bunuelos” (boon-way-lows)--Spain’s better, greasier, doughier version of the donut. What a great surprise! I loaded my plate and topped off my mug and
sat down with the day’s paper and planned the day ahead…
After my delicious breakfast, I showered and headed out into the streets in search of the
HUNDREDS of Fallas scattered around the city. I spent the greater part of my day doing
this, just walking around, enjoying the parts of the city and neighborhoods I don’t see very
much. The Fallas were just as big and
beautiful as I expected, and the extraordinary detail of each and every one—a
tribute to the impressive time and energy put into it—blew me away and left me gawking as I circled each one and took in all of its many elaborate parts. I can't explain all of them, but here--check it out for yourself:
"The City's Falla" in the main plaza
Ha! He's a Chelsea fan!
"Makeup of War"
Ha!
exactly what you think it is...
READY FOR MY FAVORITE?
DA VINCI!
so cool!
Stereotypes
WOW
unbelievable
As the day went on and the sun fell, the streets started to swell with people and I decided to head
back for an early dinner and a late siesta to charge up for the busy night ahead.
Around 11, I packed my backpack
full of beer and headed out into the city, and it didn't take me two minutes to learn the two biggest rules of Las Fallas: One, Valencia is a complete and utter warzone and it's every man for himself with regards to loose firecrackers; and Two, there are no rules--people do whatever they want! All it took was one mischievous kid throwing a "petardo" at my feet and I was on edge for the rest of the night! And as for the second rule...well...it was a bit more implied. The atmosphere was what I would imagine Mardi Gras in New Orleans to be like: people drinking, yelling, and yes, peeing in the streets. The police were all over the place of course, but just in case the crowd got out of hand. The city had changed completely from its touristy, sight-seeing feel during the day, and now it was all about the party. Sensory overload is the best way to describe it...
So I wandered around and enjoyed the freedom of being able to drink beer in the streets, and
along the way and amidst the booms and bangs and swarms of people, I found a
few more Fallas hidden around the city.
Check it out:
Even in Spain, he's still The King
Sherlock Holmes?
After checking that out for
a few hours, I made my way to one of the bridges crossing El Rio, where I
met up with the rest of the group (and coincidentally, the rest of the city) to
watch the first big fireworks show of Las Fallas. I never could figure out how to set my camera correctly to take pictures of fireworks, but the show lasted a solid ten or fifteen minutes and I was very much impressed by the size and variety. Very cool stuff.
From there, we flowed with the
crowd and continued the party in the streets and, let me tell you, I have never
experienced better people-watching! I witnessed some priceless, priceless stuff! Around 3, I called it a night and Taylor and I walked back to the dorm.
Friday:
When the parade woke me up at 8 the next morning, I was tired and dehydrated and all around irritated. I chugged a bottle of water and put my head
phones in and slept clear through to lunch time.
After lunch I went out on my own
to explore the streets a bit more.
Instead of the Fallas, this time, I turned my attention to the street
markets and little shops and rows and rows of souvenir tents. Just in the area around where I live, there
must’ve been ten streets lined to capacity with these stands, and the feeling was just that of the flea market I experienced a few
weeks ago…but maybe a little crazier. I
made my way slowly from tent to tent examining each vendor’s table of
goods. The necklace that I’ve had for
four or so years broke a few days ago, so in particular I zeroed in on the
jewelry stands, which happened to be the majority. But more than the beads and bracelets, there
were tons of soccer stands selling scarves and jerseys, others that sold toys
and children’s clothes, and others still that sold pirated movies and cell
phone cases. Over the course of the
afternoon I bought a Spanish soccer jersey and matching scarf, an FC Barcelona flag for my wall at home, and a
cheap beaded necklace that broke within the hour. Oh well—all of it together cost me twenty
euros so I’m still happy! Here's what it looked like:
As the sun went down and the
streets got crowded just like the day before, I made the walk back to the
dorm and got some rest and some food to recharge.
That night, though, the noise in the
streets was on full blast around 10, and by 10:30 I could stand it no longer—I
HAD TO GET OUT THERE! As the group was
planning to meet up at midnight and walk to the fireworks show together, I decided to venture out by myself and take in the night alone. Having already seen most of the Fallas around
the neighborhood where I live, I decided to first “walk to school” to see what
was happening on that side of town.
Here’s what I found:
From there, I continued on with
the crowd and found a spot on another bridge to watch the fireworks. It was more of the same from the night
before, but still very, very cool, and afterwards I continued on in search of
more excitement. Around every corner, it
seemed, there was another colorful street with a spotlighted Falla at the
end. As this side of the city was the more
residential area, my teacher explained to me the next day that each
neighborhood pools together their monthly donations over the course of the year and pays for the materials
and labor of their neighborhood artist to build their Falla. Pretty cool, right? Here are a few more that I found that night:
Falla from the Puerto Rican neighborhood...
All of the streets leading to a Falla have their own unique entrance.
One of my favorites
This next one is pretty...out there
Uh...
Gross!
Ha!
I love this one
And last but not least, I found this--the most spectacular of them all:
and on the other side of that...
So as you can see, I walked and walked and walked and walked all night long—I must’ve walked five or six miles in the four hours that I was out
there! The people-watching was again at
an all-time high, and the Fallas themselves and the party around
each one were so exciting and so interesting.
I made the long walk back to my dorm around 4 and fell asleep instantly…
On Saturday I woke up with the
band and decided to start my day and embrace the city’s calm before the
storm. I showered and ate and left the
residence hall by 9, and with nowhere in particular to go, I headed to El Rio
and set out for the beach. The weather
was perfect and the streets were quiet(er).
The sidewalks and streets were covered with the remains of firecrackers
and beer cans, and to be perfectly honest, the whole city smelled like
pee. The walk was warm and bright and very long, and when I finally got to the beach, I laid down in the sand and let the breeze put me to
sleep. I woke up sunburned and sandy and
cringed as I bent my legs and arms and rubbed the sand off my skin. As the whole day was still ahead of me, though, I
knew I couldn’t just call it day and head back, so I followed the shoreline all
the way to the long pier at the end.
Nothing much exciting was to be found up on the pier, but I noticed a
barrier of rocks protecting it from the waves on either side, so I...
the pier
slipped under the railing...
and jumped down to here...
and squeezed through the giant rocks...
and climbed all the way out to the water...
where I found this perfect spot...
and relaxed on my own little island
The calm of the ocean was a stark contrast to the explosions off in the distance behind me, but it was a profound tranquility that I experienced there on that rock with the sun and the water and the passing sailboats, and I hope that sometime soon and I can enjoy it again.
Sufficiently sunburned at this point, I left and made it back to the dorm in time for a late
lunch, then took my second siesta of the day. And when I woke up, it was dark
outside and the city was roaring with fun! This night and the next are blurred together in a frenzy of beer and
music and lots of explosions, so I will describe them to you as one, just how I
remember them...
We left the dorm as a group around
midnight and headed out with drinks in our hands. Our first stop was our friends’ botellon
(bow-tay-yone)—the Spanish equivalent of a tailgate—where we listened to
bass-heavy dance music and talked soccer and made plans for the night. We stayed there for a short while, then
migrated as a big group to the main bridge over El Rio to get a good view of
the fireworks. The show was bigger and
better than the two nights before, but afterwards, amid the fever of the
crowd, we lost our Spanish friends and spent the rest of the night clueless as
to where to go or what to see. It wasn’t
all bad though because as we were walking back, we remembered that it was St. Patrick's Day and decided to head to the local Irish pub and grab a pint of Guinness:
Finnegans of Dublin
Cheers!
From there, we followed the crowd into the streets and eventually came to an outdoor concert where we enjoyed the
Spanish rock of a local, Valencian band.
When the concert ended, we walked back to the city
center (very close to our dorm) and basically cleaned out the first
churros stand we came to. I ordered six
bunuelos, but the guy was super nice and threw in an extra four churros, including
one that was dipped in chocolate and filled with cream! The taste was phenomenal but I think the
fried-dough overload was a bit much for my stomach: fifteen minutes later I was
in bed trying to sleep it off…
I’m skipping ahead to the final
day of the festival since the days and nights of all the others are basically
the same: shopping, sightseeing, people-watching during the day; drinking, dancing,
celebrating at night. And don’t forget
the explosions—those are an all-day, all-night CONSTANT!
On the morning of Day 5, my marching band wake-up call was nowhere to be found. When I got up around 9 and stepped out on the balcony, the streets
were strangely quiet and the crowd from the night before had diminished to a few remaining stragglers. The party just a few hours earlier had been the craziest of all the nights, but now it was over, it seemed, and all that
was left were its littered remains and that awful smell...
I knew it wasn’t over, though—I
knew this day and night would be the biggest of all! I was glad to have gotten some rest, but Las
Fallas is a marathon and Day 5 is where champions are born! (and by champions I mean deaf, alcoholic pyros...) At breakfast,
one of my Spanish friends told me that
the final day’s Mascleta--the huge firecracker show in the main plaza that's been rocking the city every day at 2 o’clock since March 1st--is the biggest, loudest, and most impressive of all. So I woke up Taylor when I got back and told
him we had to go. And we did.
We got there 30 minutes early and
found a good spot in the middle of the crowd towards the front with a good view
of the “launch site.” At two o’clock
on the dot, the big bell tower rang behind us and a warning shot was fired and this is
what happened next:
Pretty impressive stuff,
right? It was incredible to be there,
crammed into that plaza with all those thousands of people and experience it
in person. Taylor’s quivering hand
doesn’t quite do it justice, but the bigger explosions and especially the grand
finale make the whole city tremble and you can really feel the vibrations inside your whole body. Such a cool experience! Here are a few pictures:
so many people!
wow, that guy's really tall!
watching from the balcony
something about the decibal level of the explosions: SUPER LOUD
under seige
So after La Mascleta, Taylor and I
made our way through the crowd and back to the dorm for lunch. Knowing that we had the most epic night of
all just a few hours away, we decided to take it easy in the afternoon and make sure
we had enough energy to really go out with a bang. For me, this meant checking out the street
vendors for a few hours and then taking a siesta before dinner.
That night, the group agreed to leave a good
bit before La Crema (cremation) of our favorite Falla so that we could beat the crowd and get a good view. When we hit the streets, though,
we were surprised to find them less crowded and much less crazy
than the nights before, and as we made the walk through the city, we couldn't help feeling confused and a little disappointed. The crowd in
front of our chosen Falla was big but we still managed to find a good spot with
a good view. We stood there for a long
time and continued to wonder why the people weren’t as rambunctious as the
night before and why no one was drinking. The feeling that I got as I stood there, staring out over the crowd at the waiting Falla, was one of finality
and conclusion and a sort of This is the end. Fifteen minutes after the scheduled start
time, the crowd yelled and whistled for the show to start,
and right on cue, all the lights in the area were cut off and everyone cheered. This is what
happened next:
Burn, Da Vinci, Burn!
The fire started from the inside
of Da Vinci’s beard and slowly burned its way through his face and out the top
of his head as the crowd sang songs and cheered it along. As the top half burned and weakened and teetered on its base, the crowd gasped in unison, then cheered louder than ever when
it finally came crashing down in a heap of flaming rubble. You can’t really tell in the
pictures, but all around the burning Falla are firefighters (“bomberos”)
spraying their hoses into the air to protect the surrounding buildings from
getting burned too.
Anyway, so Da Vinci's cremation was really exciting to watch, and after the whole thing had burned all
the way to the ground, we followed the melancholy crowd to the big
destination for the night: la Plaza de Ayuntamiento, home of La Mascleta during
the day and La Crema of “The City’s Falla” during the night. When we got there, though, we were disappointed
to find that we had missed it—the whole thing was gone and burned and a huge pile of ash and charred debris lay in its place. This frustration was enough for the others to
call it a night and head home, but I decided to stay out by myself and squeeze as many final
drops out of Las Fallas as I could. And
low and behold, just a few plazas over I found the last “living” Falla of the
night, just waiting to be burned! When I
first walked up, there were men on ladders dowsing the whole thing in gasoline,
and not ten minutes later the lights were shut off and the whole thing was up in flames! The crowd was much smaller and I was able to
get a spot at the very front, and as it burned I got to experience the whole
thing: the smell of gasoline and toxic fumes, the extraordinary heat on my face, the danger of
the crumbling, flaming debris falling at my feet. Check it out:
I stood
there and watched the process through to the end, and when it was over I finally understood why
everyone else was so down: this was the end of their party—the party that they
worked and planned and gave money for all year long so they could pack a year’s
worth of fun into five days. Just like
the rest of the city, I was sad to say goodbye to Las Fallas and all that it
meant: the explosions and the noise, the
crowds and the chaos, the smell of churros and gun powder and beer and sangria. Las Fallas was the most unique experience of
my life and probably will be for some time.
I was sad to see it go, but so happy that it happened. And as I walked home and it started to rain, I couldn’t
help but think that that too was perfect.
Thank you Las Fallas and thank you Valencia—you have given me a memory I
will never forget.
Here are the rest of the pictures from the epic weekend:
the parade that marched around the city ALL day EVERY day
Falleras
Fallero
Homemade petardos
"Fire Walk" on the last day
fireworks launch site in El Rio
big crowd on the bridge to watch the show
my only successful fireworks picture
Dad-propelled carousel
Break-dancing street performers
Awesome!
Concert
Mmm...Churros
"Strawberry Rope" = Delicious
Group of teenagers that BEGGED me to take their picture
And finally, this was the plaza closest to where I live, La Plaza de la Virgen:
La Falla de La Virgen (Virgin Mary) is the exact same every year, and always in the same plaza.
On the 3rd day, there is a HUGE ceremony in the plaza where the entire Falla is filled one by one with roses.
And on the 4th day, the fountain next to it is filled with elaborate bouquets and flower baskets donated by each of the neighborhoods with a Falla as a token of gratitude to the city for the best five days of the year.
