war zone Valencia

I arrived in Valencia on Saturday night and as I walked to the hostel a marching band came out of nowhere and passed through the square. This should have been my first clue that something was going down in Valencia.

The hostel was cool and I met a few people to go out with that night, Joey from Texas and Alison from London. Alison went home around 2 or 3 but J and I found ourselves in a series of bars and clubs (you ever have that moment when someone asks you what time it is and you look at your watch and it's a quarter to 6 and you have no idea where the last three hours have gone? it was like that).
I have become one of those odious women who lies about her age. Or who allows other people to lie about her age...but when the extremely attractive Dutch boy you've been talking to for a couple hours reveals his age as 21 and asks how old you are, and your jaw drops open as you think of something to say, and your quick thinking drinking partner pipes up with "Twenty-five. She's twenty-five." you might not come clean either.
Actually it's weird...personally I think I look like I am 30 years old...not a lot older and not a lot younger. But maybe because I´ve been hanging out with a lot of younger people lately I've encountered a LOT of surprised looks when I say I'm 30. I've heard everything from 23 to 28 when people try to guess. I am loving this and am going to play it up as much as I can, especially since all the sun exposure I've been getting and will continue to get is going to age me superfast in the next two years or so. Leatherface here I come.

The next day everyone in the hostel was awakened by a combination of church bells and loud explosions. But we were all too hung over to actually get up and investigate. Sad.
When I finally did leave the hostel I came across the remnants of a fireworks display in one of the squares and tantalizing glimpses of dissolving parades - like a group of women dressed in black wearing mantillas, or yet another marching band. An altar/stage was set up in the square near the hostel (I saw several of these in squares throughout the city) and people were preparing for a pageant and poetry recital featuring kids dressed as monks and (what looked to me like) pirates. Probably not pirates though.
I wish I could tell you what it was all about but I'm still not sure I know. I think it was the Feast of Sant Vicent Ferrer.

Monday was a holiday which meant absolutely nothing was open but I finally got to see the parade.





After watching the parade for a while I wandered around some more and found a large square filled with people...well as filled as it could be considering a huge chunk of it was cordoned off because that's where the fireworks were set to go off.


The coloured things on the strings are explosives. As some sort of anthem played (Valencian I assume) and people sang under their breaths a couple of guys came out to set up miniature rocket launchers under the strings.
When the music ended one of them lit a fuse and that started one of the most violently loud and powerful pyro displays I have ever seen.
It sent small spinners of fire and coloured smoke into the air.


At ground level the square started filling with smoke and you could see bright fires flare. The impact was earth shaking and I had to plug my ears. The whole place looked like a war zone and people were loving it.


That night Alison and Joey and I went out again even though it was a tough slog finding any open bars or clubs (you'd think that on a holiday people would be partying....?? no.) and finally ended up dancing till 6 at Venial which is apparently Valencia's oldest gay bar (and conveniently just down the street from the hostel!) it was pretty empty but the Kim Cattrall lookalike was fun to watch.



Finally yesterday I went to the cathedral and saw wonderous things like the Holy Grail (yes! the real one! maybe.) and a saint's dead withered arm in a box. I will never understand relics.