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La Tomatina, and a little bit of Valencia

Klaus Jones
September 9th, 2009 at 1:17 am
This is what its all about in my opinion. Pure, undiluted randomness and winging it. No real planning, just a snap decision.
After hearing about how we’d be in the area for La Tomatina from almost every traveller we’d met, Dave and I decided off the cuff to make it happen. Our jaunt south started with a train to Valencia, where we hiked around town a bit, not lost, just searching for our Hotel. Once found, we settled in for an early night to prepare us for the big day to come.
6am, dawn just broken. I suited up, settling my Panama hat firmly on my head, while Dave made similar preparations – wearing as much white as possible, as is tradition. Making our way to the train station I’m the subject of many odd looks and more than a few chuckles or high fives. Once at Bunol, where the festivities were to be held, chuckles and high fives turned into outright drunken laughter (at 8am, as many people had been drinking the entire night) and photos. I also made it onto TV, as the most well dressed celebrator.
Thankfully we’d chosen to come quite early, so managed to make it near the centre of town where the greased pole was. For those unfamiliar with how La Tomatina all works, at 10am the crowd starts climbing the 10m high greased pole, trying to knock the ham off the top. While this happens, the rest of the crowd entertain themselves by ripping shirts off each other, tying them in knots and throwing them around while the locals spray them with hoses. Can get pretty insane, lumps of sodden cloth flying around, looks like a war zone.
Once the ham is loosed, cannons fire, signalling the begin. 10-15 dump trucks full of tomatoes then start making their way through the crowd, with some lucky few in the trucks beginning the barrage. Once near the middle, the trucks dump, and the insanity begins.
It really is impossible to describe, beyond calling it a war zone. Being in a full white suit, Panama hat and all, I was a prime target, and to be honest had the time of my life.
Some time through the onslaught Dave caught an unsquashed tomato in the eye, swelling it nicely and showing why tomatoes should be squished in the hand before being thrown.
Beyond that though, a solid 2 hours of awesomeness was had. Traditionally, after 1 hour the cannon fires again and people stop throwing tomatoes. Traditionally. When you get 60,000 people, drunk, mostly naked and covered in tomatoes, tradition sometimes gets tossed out the window. Once peoples fervour finally died, I started making my way to the meeting point to catch up with Dave, having been separated rather quickly.
On the way back I took every opportunity to hose off, finding tomatoes and tomato residue everywhere…and I do mean everywhere. On the way I by pure chance ran into Coops, our guide from the Croatia Cruise – fairly amazing luck given the sheer volume of people.
While the public service to Bunol was superb, running smoothly an efficiently, service out was dismal. Completely full trains would sit for 40 minutes at Bunol, before moving for 10 minutes towards Valencia then stopping in the middle of nowhere for another 20 minutes. I found some floor space next to a tomato filled trash can and spent most of the trip asleep, looking the Hobo part quite well in my now pink suit.
Once finally in Valencia, I found a park with a fountain to wash off in and had a siesta while my clothes dried in the sun.
Truly an awesome experience, although I showered red for the next couple of days – not from tomatoes per se, but from the sangria that was also thrown around. Cannot recommend it highly enough if to anyone who ever gets the chance, do not miss it.

This is what its all about in my opinion. Pure, undiluted randomness and winging it. No real planning, just a snap decision.

After hearing about how we’d be in the area for La Tomatina from almost every traveller we’d met, Dave and I decided off the cuff to make it happen. Our jaunt south started with a train to Valencia, where we hiked around town a bit, not lost, just searching for our Hotel. Once found, we settled in for an early night to prepare us for the big day to come.

6am, dawn just broken. I suited up, settling my Panama hat firmly on my head, while Dave made similar preparations – wearing as much white as possible, as is tradition. Making our way to the train station I’m the subject of many odd looks and more than a few chuckles or high fives. Once at Bunol, where the festivities were to be held, chuckles and high fives turned into outright drunken laughter (at 8am, as many people had been drinking the entire night) and photos. I also made it onto TV, as the most well dressed celebrator.

Thankfully we’d chosen to come quite early, so managed to make it near the centre of town where the greased pole was. For those unfamiliar with how La Tomatina all works, at 10am the crowd starts climbing the 10m high greased pole, trying to knock the ham off the top. While this happens, the rest of the crowd entertain themselves by ripping shirts off each other, tying them in knots and throwing them around while the locals spray them with hoses. Can get pretty insane, lumps of sodden cloth flying around, looks like a war zone.

Once the ham is loosed, cannons fire, signalling the begin. 10-15 dump trucks full of tomatoes then start making their way through the crowd, with some lucky few in the trucks beginning the barrage. Once near the middle, the trucks dump, and the insanity begins.

It really is impossible to describe, beyond calling it a war zone. Being in a full white suit, Panama hat and all, I was a prime target, and to be honest had the time of my life.

Some time through the onslaught Dave caught an unsquashed tomato in the eye, swelling it nicely and showing why tomatoes should be squished in the hand before being thrown.

Beyond that though, a solid 2 hours of awesomeness was had. Traditionally, after 1 hour the cannon fires again and people stop throwing tomatoes. Traditionally. When you get 60,000 people, drunk, mostly naked and covered in tomatoes, tradition sometimes gets tossed out the window. Once peoples fervour finally died, I started making my way to the meeting point to catch up with Dave, having been separated rather quickly.

On the way back I took every opportunity to hose off, finding tomatoes and tomato residue everywhere…and I do mean everywhere. On the way I by pure chance ran into Coops, our guide from the Croatia Cruise – fairly amazing luck given the sheer volume of people.

While the public service to Bunol was superb, running smoothly an efficiently, service out was dismal. Completely full trains would sit for 40 minutes at Bunol, before moving for 10 minutes towards Valencia then stopping in the middle of nowhere for another 20 minutes. I found some floor space next to a tomato filled trash can and spent most of the trip asleep, looking the Hobo part quite well in my now pink suit.

Once finally in Valencia, I found a park with a fountain to wash off in and had a siesta while my clothes dried in the sun.

Truly an awesome experience, although I showered red for the next couple of days – not from tomatoes per se, but from the sangria that was also thrown around. Cannot recommend it highly enough if to anyone who ever gets the chance, do not miss it.

Oh, and check out Dave’s take on it all, over at his Euramble blog with James

Pictures
La Tomatina Pictures
Valencia Pictures

Videos
Locals cooling off the crowd
Shirt throwing war zone
Let the tomato throwing begin
Ankle deep in Tomatoes and Sangria

This entry was posted on Wednesday, September 9th, 2009 at 1:17 am and is filed under Eurotrip. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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