I´ve been to all the major Spanish Fiestas now. I´m not sure which one was the most fun, but I think it is safe to say that "Las Fallas" was the most insane.

The fiesta (some pics and info) started in the 18th century and has now evolved into an arsonist´s wet dream. Throughout the city streets are the Fallas. In total, one lady told me there were about 600. The last night of the fiesta (March 19th) they are set on fire. First the infantil , then the big ones. They range from the tiny (a few feet high) to the largest (50 feet or so). But, this description doesn´t do it justice. These people spend enormous amounts of money on these things and the art work is amazing. Bush and Bin Laden together again, John Lennon and an apparent montage to pirates were just some of the themes from this year´s Las Fallas. Usually, each neighborhood or street creates a Falla. Then, they just burn them. It´s awesome!

The week leading up to the final night is just an enormous street party. Vendors selling food and drinks every. The streets thronged with people. A body count lining the floors of the bus station (more on that later). And the fireworks and firecrackers...did I mention that? My parents wouldn´t let me near fireworks when I was younger, even on the Fourth of July when everyone had them. In most countries parents teach their children not to play with fire. Matches, bad! Lighters, bad! Not exactly the case in Valencia, Spain...

Basically, from the moment you arrive until the moment you leave, plan on hearing a firecracker (think Cherry Bomb) exploding every 45 seconds or so within about 10 meters of you. And also be on the look-out for fireworks and bottle rockets being launched from within the crowd. But, it´s not just the derelicts and the teen-agers running around with these mini-bombs. EVERYONE has them. People runing through the streets tossing them into garbage-filled dumpsters. Down the alleys. Into the plazas and streets. EVERYWHERE.

We (Dave and I) were sitting at a cafe on Sunday watching a family next to us. The kids were about 7 and 5 years old. The boy is lighting one about 4 inches from his kid sister´s hair. They are lighting these babies up on crowded, narrow, European streets and just tossing them around carelessly. It was absolutely hysterical and terrifying at the same time. One landed a few feet from some poor old man and when it exploded he nearly filled his depends. The mom looked up from her paper, chuckled to herself and then continued on reading. Dad just milked his drink. NOTHING to be said. It´s like all the families that just condone the random beatings given to freshmen in Dazed and Confused. Except for the fact that was a movie, this is real and seemingly much, much more dangerous. People were just running around everywhere and tossing these things. Most of the time there were just trying to startle people that weren´t paying attention. And, maybe since this is a tradition these people have grown up with, they are more careful about it and it just appeared dangerous to my untrained eye...but I doubt it.

And it´s a sight to see when these people actually burn these things. There is an area that is blocked off by barricades surrounding it. Then the families meet inside the barricades and ignite it. Talk about a blaze of glory. Fireworks launched into the sky. Gasoline literally being thrown on fires. Smoke everywhere, then these towering monstrosities catch fire. We were sitting about 30 feet away when it went up. What happened next made me feel like I was out of mind. THEY REMOVED THE BARRIERS. Here I was, drunk, watching a 25 foot inferno of flames and ash burn in the middle of a plaza filled with thousands of people (some throwing gas on a fire), most of them also in possession of fireworks, and people were removing the only barricades. Ash is going everywhere. You could feel the heat on your face and some genius was moving the barricade. And I kept thinking, "Now this is the way to celebrate...what else can we burn? How about that schol there? Where is the town hall again?"

We had no place to sleep on Saturday night. We checked out of hotel around 1pm on Saturday and couldn´t get back in until the same time on Sunday. Park was closed to camping. Beach was too far away. No problem we thought. We´ll just stay out all night, then find a bench for an hour or two if we need to. Well, let´s just say that we didn´t make it that far. From about 1pm until 5am or so we were out and about and when it came time to crash we headed to the bus station (where our bags were locked) to look for a bench or something. Bodies as far as the eye could see. People everywhere. Benches, hard tile floors, chairs and on the cement outside. So, I have now slept on the floor of a bus station and lived to talk about it. That´s the positive. The negative is that I actually smelled like I slept (wet...it rained a bit that night) on a bus station floor the next day when I went to check into the hotel. Caught a wiff of myself and threw up a little bit in my mouth the next morning.

The traffic on Monday turned a 3.5 hour bus ride into nearly 7 hours capping a long and insane weekend. Pictures to follow...eventually.