Fallas pt. 2
Danny and I woke up late in the morning to the dulcet notes of our host’s violin. Rising from the bed, I found a breakfast of meats and cheeses arrayed in the kitchen. How nice it was to have more than eggs and potatoes for once!
We shuffled out the door, under the wing of our host and his son, on our way into the city center for a short walking tour. At the metro station I tried to buy tickets for all of us but was foiled when the ticket machine swallowed my only debit card! It kept insisting that I insert a card, and each time I pressed “cancel transaction” it would spit my card out an eighth of an inch and then suck it back in again. I had to try three times to grab it before I managed to wrench it from the machine’s hungry jaws. It was quite a scary experience, and so Danny ended up buying the passes with cash.
We made it to the Mascleta, but were so late that we couldn’t even push our way onto the street with a view of the fireworks! We listened at a distance then headed to the collosal arena by the train station to purchase tickets for a bullfight the next day! We got the cheapest seats we could: cement benches exposed to the elements at a good distance from the action. Our guides then brought us to the winning Falla in the Jerusalem Quarter.
The winning Falla
I can barely describe how huge, yet ornate and intricate the production was. I suppose pictures do a better job, but we learned a little about the themes in it from Jose. Illustrated in its sculptures are the four seasons and various satirical manifestations of heaven: including one joke about Michael Jackson being turned away from the pearly gates because the guest list has him down as being black.
Does it matter if you're black or white?
We then broke away from the Joses and did some CouchSearching for the next few nights, as our hosts couldn’t put us up for too long. On our own, we decided to do a little sight-seeing around town and made a number of stops at various architectural sites. This was not as easy as one might imagine, because the city was still enduring the constant stream of people through the parade to the virgin. We finally made it up a tower at the city entrance, and were afforded a beautiful view of the city in early evening.
This tower gaurded the northen entry into the city
As a reward to ourselves for a hard day’s trek, we decided to seek out a local paella for dinner. After wandering for over an hour and following several suggestions, we found out that paella is not a dinner food. Sorely disappointed, we ate at an Argentian Steakhouse with terrible service, high prices, and waiters that spill grease on your pants.
We headed back into the heart of the city for the largest fireworks show of the month: Nit du Foc (night of fire). It was an half hour of solid fireworks, and every street along the “rio” was packed to enjoy the spectacle. As soon as it ended, the whole place erupted into a warzone. Many people in the crowd had fireworks of their own, and started launching them in every direction. Groups started forming and firing them back and forth at each other while innocent bystanders ducked and jumped to dodge the missiles. Then came the police, and amid the deafening bangs and shrill screams and whistles they descended on the firework launchers. Mainly using their hands but not hesitating to weild their billy clubs, they dispersed the more dangerous groups and held a perimeter by standing in a ring facing outwards. The terrifying and epic battle hadn’t stopped before we slunk away to a better lit area.
Pretty lights
We found a dance party in some crowded party and danced for a few hours. Finally, making our way back at some absurd hour in the morning, we were amazed to find every street brimming with people. By all appearances, the city did not sleep.
Nothing in particular was happening in this plaza at 5 AM
