Valencia and Fallas

We spent last weekend in Valencia, celebrating Fallas!

I first heard about Fallas, the biggest fiesta of the year in Valencia, a few years ago from a colleague who had stumbled upon it on a business trip. Ever since then I've wanted to see it myself, and this year I hit a bit of good luck: I was asked to come to Valencia the week before the pinnacle of Fallas.

So I spent Wednesday through Friday of last week in the Valencia office, working long, full days but still enduring a bit of teasing due to the convenient timing of my trip. Nothing to say about these three days of work, just the usual training sessions with the usual affable Spanish crowd under the usual beautiful Spanish sky.

I managed to land a modern, fashionable hotel downtown, just across the street from the opera house. I am very lucky to have the company discount for these trips, because I'd hate to know how much the hotel rooms really cost.

On Friday evening, while I was waiting around for David's flight to come in, I visited the local open-air mall near work. Again, I was astonished by how inexpensive everything was. In fact, many price tags showed different prices for France and Spain (the French price inevitably being at least 5 euros more). I bought some things, not a lot, but enough to make me worry about my luggage on the way home. And I vowed to never go shopping in France again - just to wait for my next trip to Valencia.

Anyway, David's flight landed early, and I was waiting eagerly at the gate. We drove back to the hotel, through the city and past our first taste of Fallas - lights, crowds, and looming statues.

The tradition of Fallas began in Valencia during the Middle Ages when carpenters burned their excess scrap from the winter to celebrate the spring equinox and Saint Joseph, the patron saint of carpenters. After some time the bits of wood were playfully formed into figures, then decorated with other scraps from the neighborhood. And now today, fallas (the word for both the fiesta and the statues) are massive constructions made of foam, cork, and wood. On the last day of the fiesta, March 19, they are all burned.

On Saturday we woke up early and began my carefully-plotted tour of the city's biggest fallas. It was incredible, these huge structures that seemed to defy physics, hanging from thin air. There are two kind of fallas; the regular, full-sized monuments, and the children's fallas, which are smaller, but no less detailed.

During our walk we watched the artisans put the finishing touches on the statues. I found it so funny to watch workers soberly carrying around 2-meter tall cats, a giant parrot, and various body parts. I came around a corner once and found a massive bull butt blocking the road. While we watched, a worker on a crane fitted the end of a sword into the jacket of a 5-story tall pirate. (Side note: there are loads of more fallas photos on our flickr site)

The entire city was in a festive mood, and a big part of fallas is firecrackers. All weekend we were constantly startled (and nearly deafened) by firecrackers. You could definitely tell the tourists from the locals because the Valencians-even the children-never flinched when the explosions went off. David mused that it might be difficult for a war veteran to be in Valencia during Fallas, what with the constant staccato of firecrackers at all hours of the day.

What surprised us was that the perpetrators of the firecrackers were usually children under the age of 12, both boys and girls. They were sometimes accompanied by their bemused parents, who would light the fuses for them. We couldn't believe it - our parents barely let us have sparklers! Consequently, we also saw about half a dozen ambulances a day.

Another tradition of Fallas - although I can't tell you why - are blue and white scarves. The hotel gave me one, and after carefully folding the hotel logo under, I tied it on a variety of ways. Even on David, although you can imagine that didn't last long.

After seeing a handful of fallas (there are over 700 each year), we walked to the town hall for la Mascletada. Everyone at work insisted that we go to mascletada, which occurs every day at 2 p.m. during the fiesta. We were also advised to not stand too close.

As we stood on a crowded street near the town square, David asked "What exactly is this again?" just as the first explosions went off. Mascletada is a huge "sound fireworks" event, which is pretty much a massive explosion of fireworks and firecrackers. My photos are of nothing but smoke and crowds, so I stole a better photo from Wikipedia.

After the mascletada was done, the crowd cheered and the smoke and smell of gunpowder rolled over us. Then little bits of paper came floating down and we all reached up for them like colored snowflakes. We decided that was fun, but not necessary to attend again.

For lunch we tried to find a quiet street (impossible) and sat at an outdoor terrace for lunch. I accidentally ordered fish tapas and we gave threatening looks to the kids who ambled past with their boxes of firecrackers.
We spent the rest of the afternoon doing much of the same, walking around the city, immersed in the early festivities. During the early evening hours we walked along the garden (formerly the river) back to our hotel. We passed a park that I'd seen from the air on my flight; a playground in the shape of a giant man having a siesta. We clamored up the collar of the siesta man's jacket with everyone else and climbed up and down his body. It was just like Gulliver's travels. Just when Dave was getting the idea to jump on his sensitive regions, we came upon a giant slide down the waistcoat and slid to the ground. That was fun.

That night after dinner we walked back into the city center to see La Planta, or the final finishing touches of the fallas. Then back to the bridge near our hotel to watch a fireworks display. Needless to say, by the time we made it to bed, we were exhausted.
We started Sunday by walking to the science center, right next to our hotel. Then took our time taking an alternate route into the city, passing by some smaller fallas. We accidentally wound up in the city center just in time for la mascletada, and grabbed a table at a small tapas restaurant before the crowds descended.
Later, we passed by an amateur paella contest, where at least a dozen competitors were tending their paella pans over wood fires in the middle of the street. My friend Honorato competed in one of these contests once, and explained it like this: "Paella takes a long time to cook. You're there with good friends, you're waiting around, and you drink. By the time the paella is done, you're too drunk to know what it really tastes like."

We lingered for a few minutes, watching the different pans bubble, wondering who was going to eat all that paella afterward.

We also saw several Falleres, in their colorful dresses and complicated hair pieces. It took me some time and study to realize that many of the complex hairdos were added on and not their natural hair.
Before we left I had to try buñelos, which are yet another fried Spanish treat. My colleagues insisted that buñelos were traditionally Valencian, but no one could really tell me what they were made out of. I heard some rumors of pumpkin, so I was on board. I bought us a few from a street vendor, and although tasty, a few was all we needed.

Finally it was time to leave, and we walked back to the hotel and our car. Sad to leave the sunshine and the festivities, but a welcome relief to escape the constant rapport of firecrackers.