La Tomatina!

We squeezed into the hotel restaurant for brekkie, had a quick briefing on what to expect and jumped straight onto the bus with our change of clothes and no real idea of what was to come. When the coach got into Bunol, we started our hike into town along with the other 500 topdeck tour punters to join the other 40,000 strong. We followed the crowd down narrow winding streets, between huge crumbling retaining walls and above parks at the bottom of cliffs. About a 30 minute walk later the crowds were packed tight.After a while of trying to figure out what was going on we saw the greased post in the background and the huge ham hanging from it up top. There was a mass of bodies piling at the bottom making a human pyramid desperately trying to get to the top. This went on for about an hour where they would get half way up the post, then the lard on the post would get the better of them and everyone would all come tumbling down in one well lube mess.

The crowd started the festivities early, flinging cups of water, sangria and beer around everywhere. At least it was a welcome change from the warm cups of what Im still telling myself was beer in the Reading pit.We were pretty far away from the post at this stage and wilko couldnt see so we trekked down a backstreet and came at it from the back. As we got close to the post from the other side of town we were introduced to another tradition- Rooftop water bucket snipers. When you least expect it, 10kg of water crashes down on you. I swear Spaniards refrigerate their mains water supplies. This stuff was freezing.Before too long horns fired up about 100m away from us and the trucks were on their way. It was a very slow progression of what looked pretty cool until it got close. It was a large dump truck, with about 12 people in the tray of each truck, and they were there for one thing- to spew tomatoes on the crowd. As the trucks pushed throught the tightly packed crowd in the street, we all got pelted with tomatoes all over. As a truck moved past there was barely room to bend over, pick up tomatoes and peg them around the place. After what seemed like half an hour of getting hit in the ear, face, eyes, stomach and everything around you had turned to red mush and your eyes were still blurred from tomato seeds there was another truck honking its way through the crowd and you needed to put your head down to protect your neck and eyes as the psychos on the truck tried to take your head ooff with fresh rocks. Or maybe they were actually tomatoes.

By the third truck the novelty was over and it was war. The crazy local man that was scooping buckets of tomato puree and dirty water off the street and dumping it on girls was getting pelted back, The snipers and their icy buckets of water were targets for all, and anyone with goggles or anything not red was a bullseye. If you saw something green in the air, you had better duck, because as wilko found out it draws blood. Wilko went to shelter in a back alley when he couldnt see from loss of blood, thanks to the help of a couple of local girls that ccouldnt speak a word of english. I found him well hidden from the tomato soup street, up an alley and around the corner. I couldnt figure out why he was that far out until the chick standing next to me copped one to the sternum and it knocked the wind out of her.

A bit later in the fight I went to grab a happy snap of a 5th truck coming through, and a guy slapped my camera out of my hand. It flew about 2m, hit another bloke then the floor. A few seconds later when I got to where it hit, it was nowhere to be found. Then the cash I brought and stashed in my bag in the bus dissapeared.. That aside, what a ridiculous day and i'd probly do it again. I dont know if the ham actually ended up getting knocked off the greased up post- Traditionally the tomatoes are thrown after it comes down, but the council now sends out the trucks when the streets are packed up. I saw guys still trying after the fifth truck of tomato devastation ambled past, but still no luck! Rumor has it about an hour after the fight finished some tourists were touching the ham, and a local climbed up their backs and whipped it off.

Stories are still coming out about houses getting raided by drunken punters bashing in doors, t-shirts being used as ammunition, someone falling off a balcony and breaking their arm, locals ripping off every other chick's top and all sorts of other stuff... Seems the clowns at the opposite end from us let loose coz they had no tomatos to keep them occupied. Glad we hit that alley and scouted around!

Being the Culturally embracing people we are (We had full english breakfasts each and every day we were in England) We have learnt some phrases:Hola! Hablo Ingles? No? Adios! and one that would have come in handy for wilko today: Llame a un doctor!We havent bothered memorising this one: "a que hora cierran?" (What time does it close) as NOTHING IS EVER OPEN IN THIS COUNTRY. We walked up streets today again in Valencia and they still all have rollershutters down.

Thanks to the little grandma that held her garden hose on us for 20 mins to get the seeds out of our hair.. Now I just have to wash my clothes and shoes 10 times to get that awful smell out. No spaghetti bolognese for me for a while i think. Anyway... into the shower then siesta, then the $3.50 carton I just got at the local supermarket, followed by a Tapas bar: plate of tapas, 3 beers for 1 Euro.Adios! (that means send me some money)