"Are You ready Tomato Fighters!?"
We're on a bus full of mainly 20-somethings to Valencia. I'd so far enough to say that 95% are Aussies. We are everywhere! Yesterday we just did some laundry and went to H&M to buy some cheap clothes for the fight as well as a disposable camera and we're now all set and I'm beginning to worry.
25th August 2010, Valencia hotel room.
Last night we went for a little walking tour around the town of Valencia with our TravelTalk guide and it wasn't hard to notice that everyone was Australian. The Fanatics, a tour group made up of no less than 1,500 young Aussies, were running around making it embarrassing to call yourself an Australian. They wore yellow shirts with a Heinz tomato jar on it and were extremely loud. Apparently there was only around 10 toilets for them at their campsite. Where as we had a really nice hostel with a room to ourselves which felt like luxury. This night we had our first Valencia Algua, which was really tasty.
This morning we woke up at 6am, got dressed and piled onto the bus towards Bunol. Here's my outfit for the day, swimmers, white tank top, pinkish top over (they said they'd tear off our shirts) and white short shorts along with my good walking shoes:
People were sleeping in the streets waiting for the event, some still drunk from the night before. Constantine, our guide, led us Tomato fighters as he called us down the hill and placed us in front of the church which would eventually turn out to be the center of the action. This was at about 8 am. We waited, and waited. Slowly things began to get crowded and finally a greased pole was put up with a ham on top. The aim is for someone to get the ham and then the fight will begin and they can keep the ham afterwards. If no one gets the ham the fight will begin at 11am. We watched in amusement as people tried and tried. The crowd would cheer , sigh and chant all in chorus. Sangria, beer and fat were being thrown through the crowds. I swear a dead squirrel was as well. Finally the men had figured out that teamwork was the way and a guy reached the ham! he touched it, posed for a photo op among the cheering crowd, then got down. 60,000 (mostly Aussies) people hated him at once. Because this super smart kid didn't actually get the ham off the pole we had to wait another 30 minutes in the sun. And I had already had a hard tomato thrown at me.
It was so crowded by this time, you couldn't move and we were chanting "algua" to the observers on the rooftops so they would throw a bucket of water over the edge. all he sudden you could see the tomato fight beginning at the start of the street. The trucks were coming! We were pushed to the side of the street and you could feel your lungs being squashed. Michelle and I held onto each other as the 1st of 6 trucks came through. The tomato fight had begun.
The people in the trucks were pelting the tomato's at us and the juice stung my eyes so much even though i was wearing goggles. By the 3rd truck we became trapped where we were. Couldn't see, couldn't move. There was tomato slush up to my mid calves. I just huddled up covering my face, put the camera down my pants and thought why the hell I wanted to do this in the first place, all the while trying to remain sanding. 6 lorries past and it was hell. We began to try and make our way to where they were hosing people down with fire hoses. Slowly we got there and could finally see properly again. The place looked like a disaster zone.
There were people everywhere, tomato juice everywhere and tomato's smeared across the buildings. As we made our way up the hill we were hosed off by kind locals and changed clothes at the bus. I had tomato's seeds all through my hair and in my ears. I didn't need bobby pins or anything to keep my hair in a bun on the way home either, it simply stuck. Everything besides my swimmers was thrown out. Now I'm clean but the smell of tomato's still lingers...
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