Mascletás y más...

So, It’s a quiet Wednesday afternoon at Finnegan’s; we’re all just recovered from Fallas – a week long explosion of sight and sound that ended two days ago in the early hours of Monday morning, March 20th.

My participation this time around was mostly on my terms. The center closed last Wednesday for the festival, so I had a few extra days off. I took the opportunity that Wednesday morning to watch Star Wars…oh the things you tend to do while sitting around the house.

Thursday, Daniel had no school, so he and I hung out for the majority of the day on our own. Most of that time we played in his room – blocks, cowboys and horses (an interesting game where I’m the horse, D is the cowboy riding the horse, and he pulls this little pop-up house down on top of us…???), and built a couple of cool things with legos.

I needed a break Thursday afternoon, so went to Valencia to wander around the Fallas and parades. The city was definitely busy, but I wasn’t in any hurry, so sort of ambled around the crowds, ultimately managing to get my ass fairly lost. A lot of streets were blocked off, which didn’t help me get my bearings. But, I really only had a few moments where I felt a little antsy, and then I stumbled onto a street I knew.

I used to play this game when I lived in Boston (I refer to the game as “I’m in city X, but don’t have any fucking idea where I am!”), and eventually learned all the neighborhoods really well. The added bonus in this particular round was the additional mass of people: bands marching, Falleros strolling, and everyone setting off fire crackers. Cool. (quick note about marching bands in Spain…they seem to be very fun to be part of. Young members play along with old members, and the spectators just love them. This is a striking difference from the times when junior high students carrying French horns would get beat up while walking down the hallway at school…)

Once I’d had enough of the crowd, I headed back to the metro, and got to ride home with what seemed to be half the city. I’m the sadistic bastard who loves the sensation of cramming into a metro car to the point of being unable to breathe, only to get off at home and say, “Whew! That was awesome!”

Friday, Daniel and I hung out for the morning, then I took him to his grandmothers, and met up with Lynne and her coworkers. Once again, we crammed ourselves onto the metro bound for city center. Whew! That was awesome!

During Fallas, each day at 2pm there is a mascletá, basically an extensive fireworks show in the daytime. It starts at the beginning of March, and the displays increase in intensity from day as we near March 19th, the last day of Fallas.

This being the 17th, we were in for a pretty intense time. Thousands of people crowd into the town hall plaza, and at 2pm on the nose, things go crazy. We’re talking sensations that ripple clothes and (probably) damage hearing.

During the finale, not that anyone could hear me, I said more than once, “Fucking A.” The intensity easily surpasses any rock show I’ve attended…and the mascletá only lasts for 10-15 minutes.

Afterwards, Lynne, Fran and I met Maribel and Andres at a restaurant, then walked around for a few hours looking at the various Fallas. The Fallas themselves are impressively detailed papier-maché structures, many are several stories tall. (Hit a website or two to actually see what these look like…this isn’t a travel guide…)

Now, we had a fairly leisurely stroll around, but there were a lot of people, and many folks were chucking fire crackers around, so it was all a bit surreal. Eventually, we’d seen enough, and proceeded to hike back to Lynne’s work to collect the car, then back to Alboraya to pick up Daniel.

Saturday, we took it easy during the morning and afternoon, including naps to prepare for the evening’s festivities. In the end, Fran stayed at home with D, so Lynne and I met up with Maribel and Andres for tapas, then headed to a particular Falla where we’d been invited.

Falla clubs are pretty interesting, but the groups, after spending a good part of the year building their Falla, throw sort of an exclusive party for themselves (and guests), leaving all the other people to flood the streets. Being connected has its advantages, and I’m certainly glad to have been included on the guest list. That said, “inside the tent” was a bit stuffy (climate-wise). A band was playing cover songs, and rather poorly. The whole thing reminded me of some wedding receptions that I’ve been to where I really didn’t know anyone. Still, it was really great to be able to see a Falla up close…to actually touch it. In less than 24 hours, it would be burned to cinders.

At 1.30am, we all gathered to watch a fireworks display, which was impressive, but not particularly overwhelming.

Around 3, Lynne and I accompanied our friends to locate a lost little brother of one of the girls in our group. (She happened to be a single 35 year old, rather on the attractive side, but that’s another story…)
After finding the brother, we parted company, and Lynne and I headed home. In a raffle at the Falla fiesta, I had won a paella pan and a coat hanger (don’t ask) which we were lugging with us as we walked over a Calatrava bridge back to the metro.

I fell asleep as the sun was rising Sunday morning, March 19th, Father’s Day in Spain. I slept as late as I could with a 3 ½ year old in the house, then we headed a few kilometres outside of town to a restaurant for lunch. My old friend Felip (who used to have a place in Meliana) was the chef, and we enjoyed a nice meal celebrating Fran.

Afterwards, we took a little walk to an area where Fran used to rock climb. These weren’t mountains so much as really big hills with cliffs, but pretty fucking cool. One might feel like saying Fucking A.

Sunday night, we all sort of collapsed after a busy few days. Daniel had a bit of a melt down, which made for a less than quiet exhaustion. At midnight, we switched on the TV to watch the Fallas burn. I’d seen this event in person 18 years ago, but this time, had no regrets watching from the comfort of the living room. I did pop up on the terrace to look around the city at the various fireworks displays…along with the thick smoke from the various burning Fallas. It almost resembled a war zone.

This always amazes me. Monday, the city was back to normal. The streets were clean, and no fireworks were in sight. The only signs that a huge festival had just finished were a few tired looking people walking around. Lynne and I took Daniel to Finnegan’s for lunch, where he napped while we ate. Upon waking up feeling a bit crabby, he pouted in the bathroom for about 20 minutes. Eventually, we managed to leave (coaxing him out with the promise of a donut or something from a bakery), and went over to the center where I teach. I stayed to work, and the two of them proceeded home via metro, chatting merrily with several people then encountered on the train.

Yesterday was relatively low key for most of us: I took the morning to watch the Empire Strikes Back and the Return of the Jedi (reminder to self….need more movies around the house). I was interrupted once when Lynne called to tell me how her morning was going: she’d forgotten that she’d left the car parked in Alboraya the day before, so they had failed to pick it up when returning home via metro the night before. She discovered this at 5 minutes before 9am, thus creating a rather hectic experience of trying to get D to school, metro two towns over, pick up the car, and drive herself to work by 9.30. As I hung up the phone after our conversation, I thought to myself that things like this happen when there’s too much going on.

I, on the other hand, am cool, calm, and collected. Er, kind of. I certainly have more free time than before…I’ve had one or two moments where I’ve actually felt idle.

My students are on military duties for the next two weeks, and then we have Easter holidays for a week and a half. This is something I’m still adjusting to. I’ve always known 45-55 hour work weeks, and now I’m putting in 15 hours of work a week at most. From a vacation standpoint…excellent. From a “let´s get cracking” perspective, perhaps a bit more difficult to gain momentum.

So, I’m in my 5th week of a new life, and stumbling around a little. My Spanish needs work, and come to think of it, I need to make some money, too. Three weeks without classes in April isn’t helping that.

However, springtime is here, and I’m trying to ground myself. I’m still smiling a ton (though I wasn’t smiling on the metro the other day when I thought some guy was grabbing my ass….whew, it was only my backpack afterall). I’m a few weeks away from turning 36 (“Now we are 36,” he says in his best Christopher Robbins) and it seems perfectly all right to be sitting in an Irish pub in the middle of Valencia at 4.15pm contemplating another Guinness.

keep the faith
bryan
22/3/06

note – thanks for all the emails…it’s nice to hear about the stateside happenings.