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Published: April 4th 2006
The Falla Near the Market
All the fallas are more or less in this style.Hello Reader.
The city was buzzing. Every six blocks (at most) the city was erecting huge Fallas (the name of the festival and the name of the objects). They were all cartoon-like in appearance and you could tell that a team of people put a lot of time into making them... knowing that their purpose was ultimately to be burned to the ground. The street lights were also put up and city hall in the main plaza was glowing like it was Christmas. But the most prevalent and persistent reminder that Las Fallas had almost arrived was the constant popping of firecrackers in the streets. Standing on the balcony of my flat, at any given time of the day, I could hear up to five pops per minute from the surrounding streets. An outsider might think they've walked through warring neighborhoods, or a pop rocks factory... mmmm, pop rocks. Parents remorselessly giving firecrackers to children as young as five years old. This tradition persisted until the last night of Las Fallas. The people here wanted to make sure that no one forgot that Fallas was upon us... we couldn't forget if we tried.
Daniel Jove, a couchsurfer that I
Fun with Ali's Camera
Invisible Mike and Harriet at La Edad de Oro celebrating my brothers birthday (a few days early). met once in Barcelona, decided spur of the moment to come down for the week, he didn't have any reservations at a hostel, but with some luck later in the week, managed to land a bed at the Nest - where Sue works. On Monday night he met up with us and the crew for a night out... we had such an amazing time - (I would delve into this night more, but we were creating a birthday present for my brother which he has yet to receive... so I'll hold off for now.)
I had been contacted by numerous couchsurfers that wanted to stay with me during Las Fallas. I had honestly told them that I had no couch, and that I would be working most of the time anyway. I then was contacted by a couple of American guys who were studying in Europe. Dakota, who once modeled sunglasses, was studying in Sweden for the year and his good friend Eric, who was studying in Munich, Germany. They both went to the same college in California and both loved traveling. After looking (and laughing) at their profiles and pictures, I decided that it was time to talk
Flamenco Night at Radio City
The picture speaks for itself. to my roommates.
On Tuesday afternoon, after watching the Mascleta, I met the two guys at the bus station with a welcoming party. Mike, Daniel Jove, Ali, Harri, and I exchanged handshakes and Dakota confessed that this was his first time couchsurfing and he wasn't sure how he should act, I told him 'Like anyone but yourself.' The two guys were really nice and we got along like we were old friends. We dropped off their stuff at the apartment, I handed over my keys, and we met the others at the hostel for potato salad (which was awesome - as is all of our culinary creations).
I went to work. And they, with an independent spirit and curious demeanor, meandered to the City of Arts and Sciences. They loved the buildings and took tons of pictures, of course. The entire gang met up at New O's to keep me company and drink a little. Jorge let me off a little early (around ten) and gave me sandwiches, of course, and a liter and a half of beer. It was supposed to be funny, (the glass was bigger than my arm (which isn't saying much considering the size
Another Falla
Starting to get the gist? of my arm), but I drank every bit of that beer. We went to Flamenco at Radio City and I snapped some incredible pictures of the slender and talented dancer who inraptured the audience. We left, satisfied and still slightly mesmerized, and headed home to sleep.
On 'Fruit Salad Wednesday,' we met the others and went to Mascleta. We were able to get really close to the center square which made for an impressive first viewing for Eric and Dakota. Our bodies rattled along with the surrounding buildings as the mid-air explosions echoed through the streets. The King and Queen of Spain were also there to help celebrate the first day of the festival. The guys picked up tickets for a bullfight that night (which I was unable to attend due to work) and we regrouped at the hostel to enjoy the delectable Wednesday tradition and I, again, headed to work.
I gave Dakota my camera and told him to take as many pictures as he could at the bullfight since I couldn't be there. He took over one hundred. They said they really enjoyed it, but at times it was disturbing. That night, the group (which grew
Spanish King and Queen
They came all the way to Valencia to see me... or celebrate the first official day of Las Fallas... but probably just to see me. daily) came to eat and drink at New Orleans. The group expanded as the week went on - Mike, Jrisa (which is more accurately spelled Chrysa), Sue, Daniel Jove, Ali, Harri, Dakota, Eric, Gemma, Janine (Mike's friend from New Zealand - who was staying with him), Chris (a Scottish-American from Glasgow-Idaho), Sean (a Canadian - and couchsurfer - staying at Sue's Nest Hostel), Sian (Chrysa's shy female couchsurfer from England). Around midnight, they went to the Turia (the River Garden in Valencia) to watch the Castillo - the nightly fireworks that the city puts on.
If I have not told you before, I love fireworks. If I didn't work with hotels (or roller coasters) I would doubtlessly work with fireworks. I love them like a weight-watcher loves Oreos. That being said, I had to work until two am and missed the fireworks. Jorge reassured me that I would be able to go the following night.
While they were all gone watching some of the best fireworks ever, the Cafe was dead. One of the only 'patrons' was an overweight woman who claimed she was pregnant in order to use our bathroom which was supposed to be for paying
customers only. She didn't buy anything, that woman, but she did leave her soiled underwear behind the toilet. Gross. There goes my Wednesday night.
Ali had decided she wanted to work at New Orleans during Las Fallas. She could practice her Spanish, earn some money, and she liked working anyway. Her only obstacles - learning two additional languages. Fina, Jorge's wife, spoke with a very high voice and succeeded in being ninety percent ununderstandable to the untrained ear. And Maria, the young-looking morning waitress with a bad kidney (official title), was from Seville and spoke without articulating the beginnings and ends of her words. Ali also had some difficulty comprehending some of the guests - especially when they try to say English words, like Donut or Muffin. One customer, who, to add to the fun, had a speech impediment tried to order a donut and resorted to making a okay sign with one hand and putting his forefinger through it with his other in order to visually explain what he wanted. Ali was only slightly appalled until she realized what he REALLY wanted.
I found the fact that Ali pulled through the week alive and with minimal expressed
Just the Girls
Chrysa, Nora(h), Harriet, Sue, and Ali - just seconds before Harri pushes her to to the floor. frustration admirable. We had an overlap of working time of about four hours every day... which I enjoyed mucho.
On Thursday, Eric, Dakota, and I enjoyed a healthy and complete breakfast of granola (I wondered if they noticed that it was a little stale). We caught Mascleta and watched four Amstel girls dancing on top of a bus in order to promote the beer. (Amstel was one of the sponsors.) They were the worst dancers I've ever seen and more than probably slept with at least one or two people to get that job. We all felt embarrassed for them and avoided looking at them like you avoid looking at someone singing really bad karaoke. Dakota and Eric have a great sense of humor and we laughed a lot about everything. They were really fun guys who are into spontaneity, climbing, and jumping off heights just like me.
I went to New Orleans to work until almost eleven thirty. Jorge said I could go meet the others and watch the Castillo (fireworks display). I couldn't get through the crowd to meet the others. I stood alone in a crowd of strangers watching the spellbinding fireworks display. The people
stared up in awe as each explosion out did the one before it. I rejoined the gang afterwards for a quick run by Plaza de La Virgin to see the large (but just a skeleton for now) structure resembling the Virgin Mary. I then RETURNED to work until four am when I met Eric, Harri, and Dakota for our last few hours or picture-taking fun before they had to catch their train at seven am to Barcelona.
To me, the following was significant and emotional: Harri, heading home after our late night out, had to say goodbye to our new best friends Dakota and Eric. She firstly gave Dakota the longest, most heartfelt hug I've ever seen. So long, in fact, that I wondered if she had forgotten that Eric and I were both standing by. She then let him go and turned to Eric. With the most playful smirk and sincere tone of voice, she smiled and asked '...you ready?' Eric grinned and nodded. She suddenly leaped into his arms and he held her up, hugging her with her feet dangling above the ground like an older brother would to his sister. It was a goodbye, but not
Fruit Salad Wednesday... Again
Starting with Chrysa and moving clockwise: Chrysa (obviously), Daniel Jove, Harri, Dakota, Ali, Eric, and Chris. a drop of sadness was to be found in the humid, early morning air. It was more a celebration of their having ever met. A show of appreciation for a short but meaningful relationship. Even now, if I picture the farewell, I find myself with a radiating smile. Definitely one for the memory bank.
We went home and the guys packed their stuff. I had originally planned to walk them to the bus station, but seeing as I was dead tired and having to work thirty-six out of the next forty-eight hours, I agreed to let them go it alone. So with handshakes and hugs I left them at the street corner and I headed up to get changed and brush my teeth. Mid-brush-stroke, I noticed Eric's toiletries bag hanging in the bathroom. I grabbed it and bolted out of the door wearing gym shorts and bare feet. I ran about a quarter mile before I was within earshot of the guys. I yelled to Eric and finally caught up... only to find out that the bag wasn't his but Carlos'. Ah, well, it's the thought that counts, right? I made it back home and into my bedroom before
The Crew at the Hostel
Starting from Chrysa and moving clockwise: Chrysa, Mike's girlfriend, Chris, Eric (laying down), Daniel Jove being picked up by Mike, yours truly biting Ali's head, Dakota upside-down, Harri, and Nora(h). I collapssed, luckily, onto my bed - at seven am. I found, right before I fell asleep, that Dakota had left me his inscribed copy of Catch Twenty-Two for me as a parting gift. I had such a good time with them both. They were two really fun guys that I hope to see again.
I woke up on Friday at one pm and headed to work for two. The streets were alive with the parades periodically passing through them. Each of the different neighborhoods were bringing flowers to offer to the Virgin. From all over city, people gathered in the plaza (wearing their traditional dresses and outfits) to watch and partake in creating the almost imperial robe of the Virgin completely out of flowers. It was manic at the cafe, especially in the wee hours of the morning when the city put on a concert almost directly outside of our doors. People were wanting one of two things: to use the bathrooms (that were 'out of order' - a decision made by Jorge following the 'pregnant' woman incident), and to order drinks. Unfortunately, understanding the different drink names proved most difficult. Cutty Sarc, J&B, Ballentines, Jack Daniels, and
Jorge's 'Gag' Beer
I actually was able to drink all of it before returning to 'work.' Red Bull are practically impossible to distinguish when said by a Spanish person. I had to resort to showing the bottle to the person ordering the drink to make sure I got it right (a trick I only started using after incorrectly pouring about six drinks.) I didn't get off work until six am on Saturday.
BUT one of the redeaming events to that exhausting night was that I was able to steal away for about a half an hour so that I could call my brother for his birthday. It was really amazing talking to him, seeing as that I haven't spoken to him in five months. He was really glad to hear from me too and it made me want to be with him in person to help him celebrate his birthday.
I slept until almost two and rushed into work on Saturday afternoon. Again, there was a constant flow of people coming in and out of the cafe all day. My friends came back in around eleven pm for food and drinks. Dan, a couchsurfer from North Carolina, came into the cafe just after midnight. I had exchanged some emails with him but had told
Late Night Out
Eric, Dakota, Harri, and I in the Plaza de La Virgin him that I couldn't host him because at the time I wasn't sure when Eric and Dakota were leaving and also that I would be working so much and would make a lousy host. He sat down and fit right in with the group. I later told him that he was welcome to stay with me, seeing as the other two had left the day before, but I wouldn't be getting off work until six am and he would have to wait. He was thankful and had no problem waiting.
Around one am late Saturday night, or early Sunday morning, Jorge unlocked the chain around my ankle and let me go see what I was most excited about seeing. Saturday night's Castillo was called the 'Nit de Foc,' or 'night of fire' in Valencian. Three different teams took turns lighting up the sky over the river garden from one-thirty until about two-fifteen. We formed a train and wove our way through the crowded streets and down to the Turia itself. We positioned ourselves perfectly only moments before the show began. I shot a couple photos as the beginning, but I knew that the feeling couldn't be captured on film
and put the camera away after a few minutes. I stood transfixed, unable to contain the 'oohs' and 'aahs' that escaped my lips. Forty-five minutes of the most spectacular fireworks on the planet passed like five minutes. I was simply speechless. For the rest of the night after the show, my mind was still reeling over the spectacle. I believe that I will never see a fireworks quite as impressive as what I saw that night.
It was back to work until six am (with Dan waiting a couple of hours). We slept until around eleven and went to Cien Montaditos (One-Hundred Little Sandwiches) for lunch then to the last Mascleta just in time (before two pm). I was excited about going to work on Sunday because it would be a short day for me... only ten hours as opposed to the usual sixteen. I left to meet the others around half past midnight. Ali and I had a beer fight, from which, of course, I walked away the (sticky) victor. The streets of Valencia were filled with people walking from Falla to Falla watching as they burned to the ground. Before each burning, there was a small display
Parade
Women in traditional Fallas garb make their way to Plaza de La Virgin of fireworks, but in the case of the main square, the Falla burning was preceded by almost a full show.
All the Fallas are made of a wooden center and polystyrene exterior that is then shaped and painted. 'But Eli, isn't it unhealthy to breath in the toxic fumes when they burn?' The answer, in the words of Fina, is 'yes, very dangerous.' A small price to pay to witness such a tradition. After watching a few go up in flames, the group went to a lounge called Girasol, or Sunflower, which has big comfy couches and good music. We were the only ones in the place and were kicked out around four-fifteen. I finally went to sleep around four-thirty early Monday morning.
I worked a total of seventy-one hours that week. But on the upside, I was able to meet so many different people. And if you know me, you know I'd talk to a wall if it showed the slightest bit of personality. I met some nice Italians, and I asked them if they knew my friend Ryan in Trento - they (unfortunately for them) didn't. I met some Russians, and I asked them if they
Castillo
Over the Turia. knew my old roommate Vitaly who is now living in San Fransisco - no luck. I met some Australians, but they didn't know my friend Caitlin in Sydney - their loss. I got some phone numbers and e-mail addresses throughout the week, mainly people inviting me to come visit them when I continue my trip in the next few weeks.
If you have made it this far in this blog in one sitting without falling asleep, my hat goes off to you. I just reread it and I think I dozed off for a few minutes somewhere in the middle. Recounting such a tremendous weeks is like the retelling of a dream, it had an unreal quality that just doesn't seem to make sense when you actually try to describe it in detail. It was an incredible week. Probably the best I've had on my journey so far. I will undoubtedly try to see it again sometime in the future, but maybe not work next time.
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Alta
non-member comment
WoW
Those are wicked pictures Eli. Craziness all around, looks like FUN.