Baseball and Tomatoes

What do baseball, tomatoes as well as a small Spanish town with name of Bu??ol have in common?

Nothing, you must think, but using one day of annually, Bu??ol, which lies about 25 kilometers west of Valencia, changes right into a red colored tollhouse.

On this very day, it will always be the final Wednesday in August, the count of visitors raises approximately 30,000, which can be six times more then the towns population.

When I visited Valencia the first time, friends explained, which it will be near to the end of August, knowning that there may be only one basis for me to be here, going to the town of the Fallas, "La Tomatina!"

Well, my Spanish wasn't that good at that time, but I understood, which it had something related to tomatoes. Good but, never were my thoughts that right.

Let me let you know something. After my visit to Bu??ol, I could not eat, smell or look at anything containing tomatoes for around per month. No Spaghetti Bolognese, no tomatoes with mozzarella, nothing that has been red.

You can reach Bu??ol very easy by train from Valencia. There arrived, it is just a short walk from your stop towards the center of town. It really is interesting, seeing 30,000 people, attempting to squeeze themselves in the center of the small town. On the other hand it can be amazing, the number of Americans, Canadians, Australians and travelers business parts of the world consider the sentence "When close to Bu??ol, than a must!" so serious. Funny enough, I haven't seen any Spanish people trying to get on the center. Either, travel guides are rare in Spain, or they already knew in regards to the chaos, that's about to take place.

All those who own the buildings in the center of town had their houses covered with huge plastic sheets. It appeared to be, how the whole town was going to undergo a serious renovation. My friends told me, that those sheets were to protect the houses which owners had left Bu??ol for the day. Christo would have loved the area.

When a number of drunken English noticed my back and after a travel guide reading Texan stepped onto my left foot, I understood that escape

After reaching the middle of town we positioned ourselves. At the lower part of the square, when you can call the being squeezed involving 1000s of tourists a positioning. Now I was introduced for the procedure that will be held throughout the next 60 minutes.

When the clock would strike 12, 5 trucks, filled to the top with ripe tomatoes, would slowly drive through the middle of the square and unload there goods. From that moment on, everybody is allowed to through around tomatoes at everyone.

"WOW!" I thought, "One hour!"

While I tried to figure out, what number of tomatoes would fit onto 5 trucks, my eyes looked for that Texan with his travel guide. He an I, 120 plenty of tomatoes. High Noon! Now, I was sheriff in the city.

What I was focused on now, was, that this position I held at that moment, was past an acceptable limit away through the actual happening. Too a long way away from your tomatoes. At the fist stroke of the bell, I decided to go out of the wall of an house I was leaning against and earn my way on the middle with the square.

This thought was easier than the task itself, because 1,000 Gary Coopers were attempting to use the same. After 10 meters I lost the battle. Squeezed in and deafened by the hysteric screams in the people around me, I decided never to surrender the happy couple of square centimeters I just conquered. I would watch for a couple of tomatoes, finding their method to me.

When the first truck started in sight, releasing its load, I quit hope, to be able to thank the Texan for not being polite and excusing his misstep. All were having a good time. All in a 10 meter radius from the truck. When the other one arrived sight, the situation changed dramatically. If I really could have been Gary Cooper and if there wouldn't are already many people around me, I would have been able to take cover behind one of those wooden barrels in front from the saloon. Or, I would have jumped onto my horse carriage and driven home, with Grace Kelly.

But now I had to view, how a huge selection of tomatoes were airborne, making their way towards me and my neighbors. It appeared like that Texan found assist in his American fellows each Yankee chose me being a target.

Of course, my neighbors, or permit me to give them a call now, comrades, were within the same situation.

The first tomato hit my left shoulder, the next my left cheek. At this moment I hated my plan, stopping that save spot in front from the house. Only one thought kept me moving. Retreat! If there wasn't a barrel I could hide behind, at the very least a few hundred bodies plus a stone wall between me and also the happening in the center of the square.

Two minutes as well as a few hits on the back of my head later I reached the plastic covered fortress.

One should think that the first hit of a tomato to my head have to have reduced my ability of thinking drastically. As everyone knows, a wall provides you with cover when you stand behind it. In front, well...

At this time from the story I'd like to mention, that baseball is Americas sport number one. Fathers show their sons the best way to pitch before they register them at university. That means with the tender age of yr.

From that moment with an American child throws with everything which includes the size of your baseball at precisely what will be worth targeting.

Now there I was. My friends full-scale of sight. I looked left and right. This also was the combination of hits at the wall behind me, followed by a shower of red liquid raining documented on me.

Gary Cooper was gone. Far, distant on a pick nick with Grace. At his spot now experienced a roman legionnaire who had been surrounded by the inhabitants of your unconquerable Gallic village in the north of France and who had previously been about to face the beating of his life. Tomatoes came flying towards that wall from all directions. Some finding a person, some hitting the wall and several falling to pieces in midair, raining down for the people as ketchup.

It was easy to filter out the Americans inside bulk of participators. With a tomato within their hands, they stood on an imaginary baseball field, checking the situation, aimed and threw the ripe fruit much the same way, a specialist pitcher in the Boston red Sox would do it during the last therefore important Inning in the World Series.

Bang!! And again, popular victim wished having never been aware of Bu??ol or at the very least, obtaining a family pack of Aspirin in their pocket.

I repeat. 120 tons of tomatoes, an hour plus much more Baseball professionals as opposed to Major League could ever handle.

At one a clock you might hear a loud bang. The sign for the truce that would last for twelve months. A feeling of relief, followed by headache. Only then you certainly realize how a whole place has changed.

Imagine the location of two soccer fields along with the circumstance, that approximately your ankles, you happen to be waiting in tomato paste. Thousands of people standing there, from go to toes covered with ketchup. Now, following your hour of the red battle, all of them attemptedto make their way home.

A slippery task. Keep in mind, that this happen at the end of August during midday, in the event the sun is pounding down its rays on you. A smelly situation. You fell just like a hotdog in a very ketchup bath. The organizers with this Fiesta prepared showers at the end from the town on a big parking area. About 100 meters of water pipe, added to poles and releasing cold water out in the pipe every meter. The biggest open air shower in Spain.

But the issue is, that you need a unique answer to getting tomato seeds from your ears and nose. Means, in the train, time for Valencia, down towards the beach and in the water and dipping and washing and dipping and washing and...

It took me some days and showers inside morning when I stopped finding seeds after I got out with the bathroom.