Las Fallas

Festival Location: Valencia, Spain

Festival Type(s): Street Parades, Parties, Fireworks Displays

Featured Festival: Las Fallas

Las Fallas Media:

Las Fallas de Valencia

by © Sherry Brody 2008

I awoke to the sound of firecrackers or explosives at the very least. This was merely pre-Fallas, a warm-up for the enormous celebration yet to come. The fiesta was a week away, yet very much on the minds of every Valencian. I am merely a foreigner, an outsider to these kinds of celebrations, and had no idea what to expect - but to anticipate something big to mark the coming of Spring.

Las Fallas is celebrated each year beginning the first Sunday of March to commemorate St. Joseph's Day, the Patron Saint of Carpenters. The St. Joseph bonfires began sometime in the 18th century and gradually developed into one of Spain's largest fiestas. To honor the carpenters, enormously elaborate figures are constructed from wood and paper mâché and then burned on the last day of the fiesta. Teams of artists, craftsmen and carpenters spend an entire year to build the statues that range from a few thousand to a few hundred thousand dollars. I could not imagine how hundreds of building sized statues could burn without turning the city into pure mayhem and a pile of smoldering ashes. The locals ensured me of my safety and suggested I get as close to the flames as possible to fully experience the excitement of the crema (burning) on La Nit del Foc (night of fire).

From the first day of Fallas through March 19th, the daily mascletà are held in the city's main square, the Plaza Ayuntamiento. Mascletà are a series of smoke bombs and firecrackers that pierce the ears of non-natives and can be heard from miles away. Thousands cram in the plaza and its surrounding streets to catch a glimpse of the smoke trails left when the bombs burst into the sky. Each day at 2 p.m. the city turns silent for ten minutes as everyone stops to watch and listen. It is such an important event that they televise it daily on the afternoon news.

All ages gather to witness the explosives and I am amazed how no one around me has covered their ears to soften the painfully sharp sounds. My boyfriend Juan Carlos warns me not to cover my ears too tightly or I will create a suction that could cause even worse damage. The noise begins as a series of bangs and pops and leads into what sounds like the firing of artillery. The ground is vibrating and my vision is impaired by clouds of gray smoke all around. Between the blasts I can faintly hear screams and whistles. I feel like running for cover as I become claustrophobically wedged into a sweaty and exuberant crowd of cheering Spaniards. All I can think of is how this must be what a war zone feels like (except of course, everyone is smiling). "Don't you find this painful?" I ask Juan Carlos, a native Valencian. "No, this is incredible," he shouts to me."Didn't you love how your whole body was shaking from the noise and it seemed like it was never going to end?" "Well, not really, was I supposed to?" I yell back to him. "It's an experience!"

The crowd loved it and enthusiastically applauded for more. I appreciated the fact that it was louder and more spectacular than any 4th of July celebration I had seen, but was ready to break from the massive crowds. There was a sea of people as far as I could see and hundreds hanging out from windows and balconies. I looked to the left of where I stood to notice a mother with her baby no older than six months. The baby peacefully slept in it's carriage through the entire show, as the mother excitedly cheered on.

To make the festival truly confusing to foreigners they name the week long celebration Las Fallas, the floats or giant figures Fallas, the social clubs or committees that raise the money to build the floats Fallas and the young woman who represents the city during the festival is the Fallera Mayor. Everyone is invited to participate in the festival and the young men(Falleros) and young women(Falleras) dress in traditional suits and ornate gowns.

The women's long gowns are brightly colored and trimmed with beads and lace. They adorn their hair with oversized gold combs and barrettes worn only for this festival. The women also attach Princess Leia-like hair spirals to the sides of their head. The costumes are traditional, though absurd by today's standards. Women wear the outfits with much pride and honor, and the streets are filled with frocks of all shapes, ages and sizes. They quickly become local celebrities as tourists flock to take pictures of the adorned women and young girls. I saw a red dressed twelve year old with heels and hair spirals ordering a burger and fries at McDonald's while her mother proudly gazed at the on-lookers from her table. I only hoped she didn't spill ketchup on herself.

Those not in elaborate costumes often choose to wear black artists' smocks with blue and white checkered bandannas around their necks. Each Fallas "club" elects a woman and a little girl to represent them and carry flowers to offer the Holy Virgin in a grandiose procession. A giant female figure is constructed in the Plaza of the Virgin, whose wooden slat dress is designed to accommodate all the flowers being brought to honor her. The end product is a three story high woman and child made of multi-colored carnations.

My afternoons were spent walking around the city, taking in as many of the Fallas figures as possible. They range in size from a few feet high to the size of a city building. Each main figure is surrounded by many smaller ones, depicting a particular scene. Statues and scenes usually satirize culture, politics or the economy. Themes this year ranged from Roman orgies, to cloning, to the local sanitation problems. My weak Spanish prohibited me from grasping the satiric and witty meanings, so I gazed in a stupefied awe at the artistic masterpieces. For the first time since my move to Valencia, I felt like the awkward tourist that I had tried so hard to hide.

After soaking in the colorful displays of flowers, flags and floats, we decided to stop for lunch at a small cafe. One problem I detected in Spain is that most people seem to be on the same schedule. Everyone eats lunch at 2:30 when mascletà is over and has dinner at 10:00 after the parades and a late day siesta. Restaurants unable to handle the massive crowds either ran out of food (I had never heard of that before), or offered a limited and inflated price menu."We've got potato chips, potato salad and anchovies," the waiter unenthusiastically informed me. "One of each please," I replied with limited options and no energy to trek further.

For twenty-four hours during the last four days of the festival, the city swells with constant excitement. There are non-stop explosions, dances, musical performances and street parties. The festivities grow more elaborate as the days get longer and later. Mornings begin with small firecrackers at seven and then local mariachi bands parading the streets at 8 a.m. Evenings are spent strolling the streets for the evening paseo through town. A breathtaking fireworks show is held each night along the riverbed anytime between eleven p.m. and 1 a.m. Grandparents and babies and school age kids all crowd the streets to get the best view. I could barely stay awake and pondered how anyone, no less the elders and small kids, had the stamina to watch a fireworks show at 1 a.m. The evening is not complete without a sampling of chocolate con churros, a deep fried pastry stick ready for dipping in a cup of thick molten chocolate. The local Fallas clubs hold parties in the streets and at their meeting houses(casals) through the night . One night around 4 a.m. I miserably tossed in bed to an outdoor stereo blasting the theme from "The Love Boat" and "I Will Survive." This is not a time to rest or relax, I was warned - yet I hoped for at least a small block of solid sleep. I was also beginning to loathe the small children who armed themselves with small firecrackers (petardos) that they randomly threw at any nearby adult. Juan Carlos warned me, "If someone throws a lit firecracker at you, don't move. It may be heat sensitive and will follow you and explode." "Oh, okay," I answered in disbelief. By the end of the festival, this had actually happened to me, but I surprisingly remained calm. I was curious why explosives were sold to small children, but then again, this entire festival would seem dangerously inappropriate to most Americans.

Work in the city gradually came to a halt as St. Joseph's Day approached and we eagerly awaited the burnings. I felt the joy these people experienced by watching the community come together and join together in dance and song. I was happy, yet exhausted- deaf, three pounds heavier and ready to return to work and my normal routine. I remembered what one Valencian had told me on her way out of the city for the week, "Fallas is wonderful, it's an incredible festival. You must see it once....and then you leave town."

The small Fallas' were burned first, followed by the large and prize winning figures. The statues are filled with small explosives that are ignited into fireworks which catch fire and burn the artistic masterpieces in minutes. Teams of firemen guard the flames and maintain the safety of the people and surrounding buildings. What had seemed like a archaic and dangerous tradition, had actually been perfectly orchestrated and managed. The ashes were swept immediately and the city was clean before dawn. My fear turned to fascination and I wished I were standing closer to the flames. I had forgotten about my sleepless nights, bad meals, and ringing ears for a moment. I watched the giant structures blaze and crumble with sadness and a gaping jaw. I felt the appreciation the Valencians had for their festival and their city, and respected how organized and non-commercial the event was. I wondered how I could describe this experience to my friends back home and relay the intensity of noise, color and excitement.

The tourists crammed the train stations the next morning and by noon, the city was restored to its original state, as if nothing had happened. The exhaustion slowly subsided and my hearing became clearer. I chose to remember the visions, sounds and tastes that sparked my senses and awakened the inner child. I returned to my life and my job but still waited each day for the sounds of the 2:00 mascletà.

by Sherry Brody

Las Fallas Photos:

Las Fallas Dates and Location

Las Fallas is celebrated each year beginning the first Sunday of March to commemorate St. Joseph's Day, the Patron Saint of Carpenters, in the Spanish city of Valencia.

Accommodation

Hotels in Valencia, Spain

Las Fallas Video

You could be forgiven for taking shelter were you to stumble across La Mascleta in Valencia during Las Fallas. City Hall's gift to the Valencianos arrives promptly at 2pm daily during Las Fallas in the form of enough fireworks to take out a South Pacific island or a medium to well-armed junta. Loud explosions ring out for up to a quarter of an hour from a fenced off section of the Plaza Ayuntamiento where thousands of locals gather to ummmmm....hear the fireworks. A little ear blood is a given escpecially at the tail of proceedings where a number of sonic booms signifies the end of the days bang fest. Take a peek at the vid to see for yourself.