Mum's first comment when I told her I'd be heading to Spain to throw tomatos at lots of people was 'Catherine! what a waste of good food'! I'm inclined to agree with her, though the tomatos involved were certainly at the point where they probably would have gone rotten by the time they made it anywhere to be sold!
The event took place a Bunol, a village just outside Valencia in Spain. We arrived in the morning, having been briefed on what to expect, so hence wearing clothes including shoes we were ready to throw directly in the bin at the end, with or without goggles and ear plugs. We (and the other 35000 people there) made our way through the little spannish village, down a steep hill to one of the main streets, past pubs and shops that had been carefully covered with tarpaulins to keep them clean. We ended up in on long narrow street, crowded in shoulder to shoulder, with no room even reach to the ground if we dropped anything. the festival starts with a large ham at the top of a greasy pole, up which men (and some women) attempt to climb to retrieve the ham. The locals are not keen on a foreigner reaching the top first, so they can play dirty and pull people down if they look like they are getting too close. This goes on for at least an hour, while the crowd looks on (a bit difficult form the distance we were at, and I had not worn my glasses or contact lenses, so it was even less rewarding for me to peer in that direction, I could just make it out.) In the meantime, people are being sprayed from rooftops and around with water from hoses, fire hydrants, or just tubs from people's private houses (the tall aparment type housing with balconies that is classic Spanish is perfect to throw water from!).
Once the ham was claimed, the crowd erupted! The water started in earnest, and we happened to be right beside the spot where the next ritual began: ripping the shirts off anyone at all really! It was mostly guys that were falling victim to this, though if a girl was in the wrong place at the wrong time, we saw a few lose their tops!
Our little group were Lara and I, Lara's bro Daniel, Sam (a pharmacist from Toowomba who is working in Waterford, Ireland), Steve (crazy rocker dude/surveyor/rock climbing instructor from Leeds), and his roommate on the tour, James (travelling around Europe from Melbourne). Lara and I were very happy with the 2:1 male female ratio, purely from a self preservation perspective!
Just when we though it was getting a bit crazy, someone decided to light a flare right next to where we were standing, I tell you the Spanish have no concept of public liability, or health and safety, which means they really know how to party!
The next thing were a few single tomatos that seemed to come from nowhere. I was just wondering if this was going to be it, when I saw the massive truck slowly working its way through the crowd (just when we thought there was no room for anything else in the hemmed in street, but people just got out of the way as it drove through). It was the first of 6 trucks that drove through during the hour. Huge tip-trucks full of ripe tomatos, with people riding in the back throwing them to the crowd. A bit further up they would stop, and tip the entire contents of the trailor onto the ground - literally a mound of red.
Tomatos flew! ripped sodden t-shirts were a little less comfortable when hit in the face, but all you could do was grab them a throw them on! soon everything was a sea of red, and it was also quite hot (warning - don't ever attempt this if you suffer from chlostrophobia, panic attacks, heart conditions, or asthma!!). The occasional dousings with cold water from the nearby fire hose just kept us refreshed as the tomato juice started to dry...
We realised that the only way to stay together was to hold on to each other somehow pretty much the whole time, otherwise it would have been so easily to become totally separated in the writhing bodies of the crowd. At the end a huge horn sounded, signalling the end of the fight. the flying tomatos slowed, but people were still wired, so some turned back to ripping clothing off random passers-by.
To our horror, Lara and I both fell victim to this crazed stripping, though luckily our boys (aka knights in shining armour!) fought them off valliantly, with Lara's top only ripping down the back and mine just very stretched out of shape. we were separated making our way out of the crowd, Dan and I managed to keep connected, and ended up down a side street, where we saw an asian couple, she in a wedding dress, he in a suit. Maybe they were on their honeymoon?
the crowd thinned as we made our way around a few streets, hoping we were going in the right direction for the buses and the others. Little clusters of people were congregating under balconies, crying 'Agua, Agua, por fabor', to be rewarded by random buckets of water being poured over our heads. This hardly made a dent on the tomato-sodden mop that was my hair, though it did clean my face and arms at least!
We made it to the main street, where local shopkeepers were hosing down whoever asked, to get the excess of the muck off.
It had so far been quite an alcohol free occasion, which was surprising, but now the beer and wine flowed in pints - Lara went to get a rose and was given an entire bottle poured into a pint glass with ice!
We sat in the beautiful spanish sun, contemplating our bruises and tomatoiness, and bonding as one only can on such a surreal day, eventually making our way to the buses. My shoes, singlet and socks were left in a bin in that town, but I have managed to salvage my swimmers top and shorts after many washes!
It was a crazy and surreal day, and one the photos hardly do justice............ :)
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