Las Fallas

4pm. We were nearing towards Valencia and out came pouring raindrops. Just like that, the rain swept familiarity away; what should have felt like a homecoming felt like a strange first meeting… Or perhaps it was just because we took a different route and I have rubbish memory and therefore have lost my bearings. This feeling of dread only lasted for a couple of minutes however; as soon as I caught sight of Plaza de la Virgen, cherished memories, if memory ever served me well, came flooding back. In the words of Meat Loaf and Celine Dion, it’s all coming back to me…

Las Fallas is a national festival held annually in Valencia and it’s quite a big deal. On the run up to La Crema, expect mascletas, petardos and street parties sprucing up in different neighbourhoods. I’ve been lucky to experience the madness back in 2012 whilst on my Erasmus and I recommend it even at least once and even if you hate crowds and firecrackers – they can leave you scarred for life. La Crema is the night where they casually burn the Fallas or ninots, paper-machéd figures the size of baby zillas or to be more realistic, multiple-storey apartments. Months of hardwork burnt to the ground for reasons I still need to google.

This year was yet another insane affair and I applaud you if you are to brave the final show held at the Town Hall. It was nothing short of apocalyptic during and after the event. We were stuck motionless in the crowd, the kind which seemed novel and fun at first gradually becoming distressing as the clock inches forward unlike you. Words can’t bring justice as per, you just had to be there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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