When I first heard about La Tomatina, the world's largest tomato fight, I just thought it sounded just about mental enough to try. I remember reading an evocative travel piece about it a few years ago, and thinking- but it's just a bunch of tomatoes, isn't it? Oh no, my friends- it is far more than just tomatoes. I am not exaggerating when I say that we were lucky to get out of there alive.
Before we delve into the crazy details, a few words on the nearby city, Valencia. Let's start with a few fun facts- they mostly speak Valencian there, which is a Valencian version of Catalan. Far more Spanish flags around though- there do not seem to be any 'separatist' thoughts around here. It also has a much drier heat than Barcelona- we happened to go on probably the hottest day of the year (36- 40 degrees), but it still felt a little more desert - like. One of the exceptions to this is the lovely park that runs through the city, just like a river- as that is what it used to be. Innovative city planning when the river dried up!
Valencia is of course the home of paella, but we actually only tried it once- and at a cheap, roadside cafe. This was because we accidentally got ourselves a really posh apartment, with a big terrace, kitchen and sitting area! Big shout out to Valencia Flats for upgrading us as our other apartment wasn't available...the alternative was just fine.
Now, let's move onto the craziness that is La Tomatina. The only way that we could book tickets was to also book a very early bus through Spaintastic, the event's official ticket vendor. La Tomatina's organisers may want to re-think their choice of vendor for next year- while the bus-ride there went pretty much according to plan, the journey back was a whole heap of hell.
I'll tell you about that fun part later- let's get back to the festival itself. So, for anyone wondering what a typical La Tomatina experience is like:
- You arrive at the train station, where a few busloads of people, all dressed in white for maximum clothes carnage, wander down the hill towards the village centre, half dazed, confused, and wondering whether this was all worth it for a bunch of tomatoes. There are obviously the obligatory sellers of waterproof cameras, goggles (I realised the importance of these later), and breakfast cervezas.
- You reach the village gateway, where you can either drop off your bags, or, if you have bought a nifty little bum-bag with a sellotaped-together disposible camera (hereby called STDC), you can carry on to find yourself cervezas. Or, if you fancy, a wine-bottle worth of kalimutxo in a glass.
- You wander round, checking out the lack of toilets, food places with huge queues, and the unnaturally large number of Aussies clad in yellow. Why so many Aussies? you ask yourself, as a man-sized banana and tomato walk past.
- You squeeze your way into the main square in front of the town hall, where you watch various tourists attempt to climb the infamous 'greasy pole' (not a euphemism, but a wooden pole with a massive ham at the top, and grease halfway up to make the climbers 'slip up' on the way). Various styles of climbing are tried for the wooden pole- although no-one took Erin's suggestion of 'Mulan-style'. There were therefore no winners- although the crowd were sent into a frenzy when one guy skimmed the ham with his fingers.While all this is happening, some ecstatic locals periodically hosing us down as though we were a spring lawn, in answer to the maddened cries of 'AGUA! AGUAAAAAA!' from the crowd.
- Just when you're beginning to feel like you're at a water festival, rather than a tomato one, a huge klaxon sounds, and everyone literally goes mental. I mean, literally. People start rushing to the sides and cheering when they see the trucks...as they drive through the main square, men on top start throwing tomatoes. Within seconds, there is a tomatoey, watery sludge up to your ankles. Claustrophobia kicks in- it becomes a matter of survival, as you try to keep your shoes on, try not to fall over, try not to drown in the hose, and avoid being hit square in the eye with an unsquashed tomato. Believe me, folks, you'll know why people insist on goggles after one of those to the eye! Once the trucks leave, people start to squish, pelt, and just plain lob tomatoes at strangers- all while you try to move out of the direct line of the hose. You begin to see the funny side after 10 minutes, after you realise that death may not actually be on the cards today- as you look around and realise that everyone is actually feeling as overwhelmed as you, save for a few crazies in the middle. Your world becomes tomato, water, close proximity to strangers' faces, becoming one with the crowd...
- Just as you get out of the main hose area, the second klaxon goes- it's over. Startled, a little broken, but mostly laughing at the madness/with relief, everyone starts shuffling towards the gateway once more. A few try to continue the fun, having not got the tomato-lobbing out of their system. A few locals tip water over you from high balconies as you walk through the streets- actually a welcome relief, and a free shower (especially as the other alternative costs 6 euros).
So, that was the fesitval itself. I know it may not seem like it from the post above, but I actually would do it again. I would just avoid the main crazy area- and definitely wear stronger goggles. The bus ride home was another story altogether. You'd think that, if Spaintastic had a specific ticket system, they'd stick to it. But, it was apparently easier to run using a first come, first served basis, thereby royally annoying the crowds. We waited for an hour past our bus time before we found a space on a bus- doesn't sound a lot, but when you're in the sun, scared to wait in the shade as you would lose your place in the 'queue', it suddenly becomes a lot less bearable.
Wow- what a load of moaning. In short, go to Tomatina, have fun, be prepared, celebrate your survival afterwards- and try and book early so you don't have to go through Spaintastic. Fantastico!
P.S Here are some pictures- no, that isn't a 'retro' tint that I've added, but the surviving pictures from an almost destroyed disposable camera. Enjoy!
Before we delve into the crazy details, a few words on the nearby city, Valencia. Let's start with a few fun facts- they mostly speak Valencian there, which is a Valencian version of Catalan. Far more Spanish flags around though- there do not seem to be any 'separatist' thoughts around here. It also has a much drier heat than Barcelona- we happened to go on probably the hottest day of the year (36- 40 degrees), but it still felt a little more desert - like. One of the exceptions to this is the lovely park that runs through the city, just like a river- as that is what it used to be. Innovative city planning when the river dried up!
Valencia is of course the home of paella, but we actually only tried it once- and at a cheap, roadside cafe. This was because we accidentally got ourselves a really posh apartment, with a big terrace, kitchen and sitting area! Big shout out to Valencia Flats for upgrading us as our other apartment wasn't available...the alternative was just fine.
Now, let's move onto the craziness that is La Tomatina. The only way that we could book tickets was to also book a very early bus through Spaintastic, the event's official ticket vendor. La Tomatina's organisers may want to re-think their choice of vendor for next year- while the bus-ride there went pretty much according to plan, the journey back was a whole heap of hell.
I'll tell you about that fun part later- let's get back to the festival itself. So, for anyone wondering what a typical La Tomatina experience is like:
- You arrive at the train station, where a few busloads of people, all dressed in white for maximum clothes carnage, wander down the hill towards the village centre, half dazed, confused, and wondering whether this was all worth it for a bunch of tomatoes. There are obviously the obligatory sellers of waterproof cameras, goggles (I realised the importance of these later), and breakfast cervezas.
- You reach the village gateway, where you can either drop off your bags, or, if you have bought a nifty little bum-bag with a sellotaped-together disposible camera (hereby called STDC), you can carry on to find yourself cervezas. Or, if you fancy, a wine-bottle worth of kalimutxo in a glass.
- You wander round, checking out the lack of toilets, food places with huge queues, and the unnaturally large number of Aussies clad in yellow. Why so many Aussies? you ask yourself, as a man-sized banana and tomato walk past.
- You squeeze your way into the main square in front of the town hall, where you watch various tourists attempt to climb the infamous 'greasy pole' (not a euphemism, but a wooden pole with a massive ham at the top, and grease halfway up to make the climbers 'slip up' on the way). Various styles of climbing are tried for the wooden pole- although no-one took Erin's suggestion of 'Mulan-style'. There were therefore no winners- although the crowd were sent into a frenzy when one guy skimmed the ham with his fingers.While all this is happening, some ecstatic locals periodically hosing us down as though we were a spring lawn, in answer to the maddened cries of 'AGUA! AGUAAAAAA!' from the crowd.
- Just when you're beginning to feel like you're at a water festival, rather than a tomato one, a huge klaxon sounds, and everyone literally goes mental. I mean, literally. People start rushing to the sides and cheering when they see the trucks...as they drive through the main square, men on top start throwing tomatoes. Within seconds, there is a tomatoey, watery sludge up to your ankles. Claustrophobia kicks in- it becomes a matter of survival, as you try to keep your shoes on, try not to fall over, try not to drown in the hose, and avoid being hit square in the eye with an unsquashed tomato. Believe me, folks, you'll know why people insist on goggles after one of those to the eye! Once the trucks leave, people start to squish, pelt, and just plain lob tomatoes at strangers- all while you try to move out of the direct line of the hose. You begin to see the funny side after 10 minutes, after you realise that death may not actually be on the cards today- as you look around and realise that everyone is actually feeling as overwhelmed as you, save for a few crazies in the middle. Your world becomes tomato, water, close proximity to strangers' faces, becoming one with the crowd...
- Just as you get out of the main hose area, the second klaxon goes- it's over. Startled, a little broken, but mostly laughing at the madness/with relief, everyone starts shuffling towards the gateway once more. A few try to continue the fun, having not got the tomato-lobbing out of their system. A few locals tip water over you from high balconies as you walk through the streets- actually a welcome relief, and a free shower (especially as the other alternative costs 6 euros).
So, that was the fesitval itself. I know it may not seem like it from the post above, but I actually would do it again. I would just avoid the main crazy area- and definitely wear stronger goggles. The bus ride home was another story altogether. You'd think that, if Spaintastic had a specific ticket system, they'd stick to it. But, it was apparently easier to run using a first come, first served basis, thereby royally annoying the crowds. We waited for an hour past our bus time before we found a space on a bus- doesn't sound a lot, but when you're in the sun, scared to wait in the shade as you would lose your place in the 'queue', it suddenly becomes a lot less bearable.
Wow- what a load of moaning. In short, go to Tomatina, have fun, be prepared, celebrate your survival afterwards- and try and book early so you don't have to go through Spaintastic. Fantastico!
P.S Here are some pictures- no, that isn't a 'retro' tint that I've added, but the surviving pictures from an almost destroyed disposable camera. Enjoy!
