La Tomatina is one of those events you have to explain a few times for it to sink in. “So it’s basically this hour long food fight between 20000 people in a single Spanish street using only tomatoes. Oh and there’s a fight for a ham on a giant greased pole.”
Right. Not to worry. We’re here to break it down into bitesize, fruity chunks, right before flinging them in your face. It is tradition, after all.
The WWW’s
Where: La Tomatina’s home is a small Spanish town called Buñol, 40km west of Valencia. There are regular flights from London to Valencia, and it’s best to stay in the city. Buñol has about as much to recommend it as any other small, sleepy town; excepting of course one major, messy difference.
When: The festival happens annually on the last Wednesday of August. Midweek means no handy long weekend, but there’s enough in the area to justify a full week’s holiday. La Tomatina has been going since 1944, excepting a few years when leader Francisco Franco (a.k.a. General Killjoy) banned it for not being religious.
Why: I think the easiest answer to any food fight’s existence is ‘because why not’. No one really knows how it came about, but there’s plenty of local legend. Some say it began between friends, that it was a practical joke, a lorry overturned and things spiralled… The most popular is that disgruntled townspeople threw tomatoes at a visiting politician – La Trumpatina anyone? However it started, the locals enjoyed the onslaught so much that they did it again the following year and so on.
Word soon spread to neighbouring towns, then the Valencians got wind of it and suddenly this little town had big crowds. With the internet came serious problems: the event went from Buñol’s population of 9000 to 50000 in 2012. It was, rather ironically, carnage. They decided La Tomatina needed tickets, limiting it to a comfortably squished 20000. You must buy tickets in advance – there are some available on the day, but don’t risk it.
The Dos and Don’ts
We recommend going as part of a package – it simply takes the hassle out of everything. When your every inch (and frankly orifice) is covered in tomato, your muscles ache and seeing without stinging is a thing of the past, having a coach ready and waiting is wonderful.
The biggest thing to understand with La Tomatina is nothing is safe. Not your clothes, keys, tickets, phones, wallets, nada. Not only will they be filled with puree, but La Tomatina is sadly rife with pickpockets. When you’re shoved about and thrown at, you don’t notice hands slipping into your pockets.
My party lost €200 from a zipped pocket during the pole climb and we were lucky. We met a woman who lost her wedding and engagement rings, some whose phones were never seen again and one seriously unlucky pair who had the keys to their rental car stolen. Makes that guarded tour bus sound pretty sweet, eh?
If you’re determined to go it alone, you’ll need either a car or a train ticket and somewhere absolutely secure and waterproof to keep them. Padlocking your zip pocket is a wise choice. Everything else excepting a bit of cash can be left at your accommodation.
Don’t bother with a camera: stick to either a GoPro or your phone. Again, we saw these smashed, so bring at your own risk. The festival has also (hurrah!) banned selfie sticks – bring one and you will get targeted, by either police or tomatoes. We recommend a single device that your group can take turns with. Likelihood is you’ll forget about taking photos with the first tomato.
You’ll want to wear clothes you can throw, with people usually picking white for impact. Another top tip is baseball caps: the visors keep tomatoes from your eyes without needing to constantly wipe. You’ll abandon any goggles in minutes. Don’t wear slip-on shoes as they’ll swiftly be running downstream – cheap white Primark trainers are perfect.
The Ham Pole
There are two entrances to La Tomatina: your festival wristband colour will correspond to the one you need. The most useful entrance is from the east, where the station and the big car park is. Follow the crowds for a long old walk down to the town. You’re aiming for square outside San Pedro Church on Calle Cid, a long narrow street where it all happens.
Any festival that begins with meat hung from a 30ft stake covered in animal fat is only going descend into further madness. Traditionally, the tomato flinging begins when the ham has been retrieved, but this has happened only once in ten years. In theory, people gather round the pole, try to form pyramids and clamber over one another.
In practice, it’s a violent brawl – people are literally standing on heads, necks, faces, everything. Keep well away if you don’t want a face full of lard, as the fat gets flung off first. Some people climb halfway just for a photo then give up: I’m telling you now this won’t be appreciated. Leave it to the dedicated and simply watch the bizarre spectacle unfold.
The Fight
Once you’ve seen enough, move further along the street to pick your fighting spot – just watch the cheeky locals who will give the unsuspecting a bucket of ice water from above. At 11am, a horn will sound and the march of the tomato tipper trucks begins. Five of them, filled to the brim with tomatoes, inch their way down the road in intervals, squashing you into the buildings. Claustrophobics steer clear.
Cover your head as strapped-in volunteers throw ammo from the trucks, while one of your group bends down and starts handing up tomatoes. With the crowds conveniently parted, you’ll be quickly facing your new enemy. Always squash the tomatoes before throwing them – an unavoidable, unripe, unsquashed tomato to the face will quickly demonstrate why.
Don’t let the first truck delude you into thinking it’s not as tomatoey as hoped: when they start dumping their loads, you’ll be swimming in them. The end is signalled with a gunshot – everyone must stop immediately and finally take stock of their sullied, spent selves.
This is where locals get out their hoses and start helping you out. If you don’t to queue, look for a lesser-used side street or follow locals to the nearby waterfall pool, los peñones. Coaches won’t allowed you back on if there’s any tomato on you, so scrub well. Once you’re clean, head home for the best-earned siesta of your life. Pick up some food on the walk back and if you pass one at any point, go to a pharmacy and buy some cotton buds.
Even as you’re removing tomato from your ear canal days later, you can’t help but smile at being part of such a strange, spectacular and all-round silly celebration. It’s definitely one for the bucket list.
For package tours, we recommend PP Travel, who specialise in world festivals. Find them at http://www.pptravel.com/ and get booking before the 2017 rush.
The post La Tomatina – Spain’s Food Fight Festival appeared first on Felix Magazine.
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