La Tomatina

I survived La Tomatina.

La Tomatina is an annual festival held in the small town of Buñol a little outside of Valencia. During La Tomatina, which draws thousands of international tourists each each year, people crowd the tiny, windy streets of the town to hurl tomatoes at each other. It sounds less disgusting than it actually is.

I agreed to go about a month ago, thinking it would be kind of fun – we would throw a few tomatoes, watch other people throw tomatoes, no big deal. When I arrived in Valencia, however, and my sister informed me that we needed to buy cheap clothes we could throw away after the festival, I started to re-think my enthusiasm. “Why do we need to throw them away?” I asked.

“I hear the tomato juice never comes out. Oh, and we need goggles, because the acid burns your eyes.”

“Are you sure we want to go to this?”

“Have you seen the pictures online?” she asked hesitantly.

“No.” I opened my computer to Google them and she quickly shut it.

“Don’t,” she responded, and smiled. “I’ve been preparing for weeks now. Don’t worry, it’ll be fun!”

So yesterday we purchased ugly matching red-and-white striped dresses with badges that read “World Baby” (what does that even mean?), orange canvas shoes, and bright blue goggles for a total of about 12 Euros each, and this morning we woke up at 6:30 to get on an early bus to Buñol. I kept the fear at bay by laughing when someone told me to duck when the tomato fight began because some people don’t crush the tomatoes at the beginning and being hit by a full tomato can leave a big bruise. When someone else started talking about how the acid is good for your skin even though it stings, especially when you have to wait in the hot August sun for an hour before taking your turn in the public shower, I spotted another pair of girls in matching dresses and suggested to my sister that we take pictures with them.

At last we reached Buñol. The hours leading up to La Tomatina in Buñol are what I imagine a Spanish Jimmy Buffett concert would be like – the streets are full of drunk crazy people barely dressed in strange costumes (some guys had swords, which I still don’t understand). All along the sidewalks the people of Buñol set up stands selling sandwiches, sausages, paella, sangria, beer, and more goggles, and American popular music blares from hundreds of cars, radios, and open windows. SB and I brought 25 Euros between the two of us and within the first few minutes we spent five on a liter of sangria, which we later agreed was not necessarily the most prudent purchase but which went a long way to prepare me for the events to follow.

We met up with some Spanish friends who had spent the night partying in Buñol and they led us as close to the center of the fight as we could physically push ourselves. For about an hour we stood crushed by hundreds of other people as residents of the buildings next to us emptied buckets of water onto us from the windows above. A few people got sick and had to be carried out. Once or twice I was crushed so tightly by others that I couldn’t breathe in all the way, and every so often one of the guys behind me had to lift me up a little to make sure I didn’t get trampled. The men of Buñol rode past us on the tomato trucks and people began rushing to the center to get in the middle of La Tomatina.

I got hit by a few tomatoes and watched as one girl was taken away by medics after a tomato struck her straight in the eye (my goggles were firmly in place). Several other people were taken away by medics, too, who were barely distinguishable from the mass of tomato-covered bodies except by their whistles, which they blew incessantly as they pushed their way out of the crowds.

Eventually the tomatoes ran out and someone sounded a horn that signified the food fight was over. We were drenched and lucky enough to only be partially covered in tomato goop, so instead of waiting in line for the public showers we followed our Spanish friends to the river and jumped in.

Buñol is one of the most beautiful Spanish towns I have ever seen, and I wish I had been in a position to have a camera on me while I was there. From the river we could see the cliffs and the outer parts of the town walls climbing up and down them, and flowers spotted what otherwise might have been mistaken for a desert. All this was in extreme contrast to the rowdy group in the river, composed mostly of guys who delighted in trying to dunk or splash water on the rubia, or blonde girl (me).

When we emerged from the refreshingly cool river we scraped off our cheap dresses and shoes, both of which had shrunk significantly in the tomato juice and water, and pulled on shorts and t-shirts over our 3 Euro bikinis before trashing the dresses and shoes. Upon our return to Valencia we bought a doner kebap with all the toppings and ate it on our slow walk home in the blazing sun before showering and passing out.

Was it worth it? Yes. If you have never been and you have the chance, you should go to La Tomatina. But next time, I’m going to go for the party the night before and watch the crazy masses press themselves together to bathe in tomatoes. Then I’m going to take the train back to Valencia. And when I need acid to help my skin, I think I’ll try a spa.