It had been about 1 hour since we had arrived at the crush of "La Tomatina" and the fight had not even remotely started. From where we stood we could barely see the people who were being pushed around in the street not even 5 meters ahead of us. It was pure insanity.
We had all been so excited and stoked about going to one of Europe's craziest festivals that we nearly shat ourselves. La Tomatina. It sounds so mental that it almost feels like fiction. Every year somewhere between 30.000 and 50.000 tourists descend on the small town of Bunol near Valencia to throw tomatoes at each other for 1 hour. Like the Oktoberfest and the running of the bulls this must do festival also seems to be on every fucking backpacker's to do list.
I don't even know why we were so shocked to be honest. We should have known what expected us.
When I arrived in Valencia the night before I met up with my dear friend Chris who was also traveling Europe with his mate Todd (both from Australia). It was roughly 7pm and we sat down in a small cafe to have an ice cold beer and some food and there Chris warned me that the town had literally invaded by Aussies and that he apologised for their unruly behaviour in advance. At that point I just waved it off and told him that I loved Aussies and how bad could it possibly be?
"I was just happy to be in a warm and friendly place where people offer me Vodka and free beer"
Later we ventured down to the square opposite the "Real basilica de la Virgen de los Desamparados" and suddenly the force of the Aussie invasion really hit me. Dozens of wasted Australians lingering in and around the square making noise and getting even drunker. The fact that they were all wearing yellow "Fanatics" t-shirts didn't help conceal their origins. I was quite amused at this point because it seemed that Todd and Chris knew quite a few people here and I was just happy to be in a warm and friendly place where people offer me Vodka and free beer. Gotta love the Aussies sometimes.
In the end I decided to meet my own crew who were staying near the harbour instead of getting involved in the imminent debauchery that was about to take place in Australiatown.
Back at the Tomatina the next day I tried to shout at Adam: "Can you see if they have the goddamn ham yet?" Adam replied that they didn't. It was a strange feeling. On the one hand I was really excited to be here on the other I longed to stand on some balcony or just to watch this spectacle on TV while sipping a cold beer on my sofa.
Finally it was 11 and we heard the explosion somewhere behind us. It didn't take long for me to get hit by a missile tomato that some Asian chick who was wearing a dumb hat threw at me from a roof terrace in the building opposite. I wanted to pick it up from where it lay near my feet but there was no chance of even moving my arm at this point. When the trucks came down the street it seemed everyone broke out into a frenzy. Except us because we could barely see a thing and had barely touched a tomato.
We noticed that the vast majority of the trucks unloaded their tomatoes near the top of the street leaving us all dying for a bit of action. When the people on the roof terrace ran out of tomatoes to throw so did my willingness to play. The stench that was cooking around us and the fact that the temperatures were quickly rising above 30 did not help to make the situation any better.
"I wanted to pick up a tomato up from where it lay near my feet but there was no chance of even moving my arm at this point."
Eventually the last truck came and we finally got hit by a couple of tomatoes. I even managed to throw one or two. The most hilarious part came when a Spanish man who was in the back of the truck got hit in the face by a girl who was standing close to him and he literally threw a tantrum and had to be pulled back by his mates. I had to stop myself from pissing my pants when an Aussie lad on my left who had managed to secure a very nice spot on top of a little hut threw a a flip flop in his face and the Spanish guy almost jumped at his throat. The whole crowd just went "boooooooooooooooooo" and that set the Spanish guy straight.
My morphsuit felt like a sauna at this stage but it helped in locating my friends who were also morphed up. On the way to our current spot they were quite the hit. Everyone wanted photos and we got cheers and handshakes. I think we were even the first people in morphsuits to do La Tomatina. In hindsight it wasn't all that bad.
When the fight kind of died down because no one could find any more tomatoes we squeeze out towards the back and left the action.
Turns out we should have just gone one street down from where we stood to get some real tomato action. There, one street away from the main drag was where people literally swam in tomato juice and where you could breathe without gagging at the stench of the person in front of you.
Overall, I cannot say at this point if I would bother to do this again, but if I did I would follow the advise of my friends and get there earlier than 10, find a really fucking good spot near one of the side streets and then run down to swim in tomato juice. If it just weren't for all them damn other tourists haha.
"I think we were even the first people in morphsuits to do La Tomatina. In hindsight it wasn't all that bad!"
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