(no subject)
Tomorrow I'm leaving Nice and heading to Valencia for La Tomatina.
Here's some information on it:
Every year the 9000 inhabitants of the tiny village of Bunyol find their population has quadrupled overnight as a multitude of enthusiasts turn up for the largest tomato war on the planet. It's the opportunity of a lifetime - let battle commence!
By 11am the 30,000-strong army are well breakfasted on pancetta, chorizo and lots of rosé and have been prepared for action by copious soakings. The tomato wars are about to begin.
Five bulbous, tomato-packed rockets are sent whistling into the skies and the masses congregated below launch into a frenzy of flinging, slinging and lobbing - it's every man and woman for themselves.
There are very few rules in La Tomatina - it is compulsory to squish your tomato before sending it into the red blur of the crowd before you, and other projectiles are not allowed. Don't worry about running out of ammunition because there's a monumental 125,000 kilo arsenal of ripe fruit. Participants have two hours in which to hurl them at what will be, for that brief time, thousands of enemies.
The aftermath of La Tomatina puts any blood-injected, horror-film set to shame. Don't count on recognising your mates, or them recognising you for that matter. Within hours, though, the town is transformed back to its former self. Shopkeepers take down their tarpaulins and everyone chips in to hose down the town and return it to its former "tomato-less" glory.
So how on earth did this gastronomically obscure tradition start? There is no patron saint of tomatoes or miraculous explanation of a tomato ritual, whereby locals beseech the gods for good weather and fortune for next year's harvest. It so happens the tradition was born way back in 1945 when some locals got carried away in a restaurant food fight. It must be the sheer fun of it that led to the "small-time" altercation taking on such epic proportions.
The phenomenon even hit the international headlines on 28 August 1997, when articles and photos of the Tomatina revelry appeared on the front page of the Washington Post. The original disruptive diners must be very proud.
Here's some information on it:
Every year the 9000 inhabitants of the tiny village of Bunyol find their population has quadrupled overnight as a multitude of enthusiasts turn up for the largest tomato war on the planet. It's the opportunity of a lifetime - let battle commence!
By 11am the 30,000-strong army are well breakfasted on pancetta, chorizo and lots of rosé and have been prepared for action by copious soakings. The tomato wars are about to begin.
Five bulbous, tomato-packed rockets are sent whistling into the skies and the masses congregated below launch into a frenzy of flinging, slinging and lobbing - it's every man and woman for themselves.
There are very few rules in La Tomatina - it is compulsory to squish your tomato before sending it into the red blur of the crowd before you, and other projectiles are not allowed. Don't worry about running out of ammunition because there's a monumental 125,000 kilo arsenal of ripe fruit. Participants have two hours in which to hurl them at what will be, for that brief time, thousands of enemies.
The aftermath of La Tomatina puts any blood-injected, horror-film set to shame. Don't count on recognising your mates, or them recognising you for that matter. Within hours, though, the town is transformed back to its former self. Shopkeepers take down their tarpaulins and everyone chips in to hose down the town and return it to its former "tomato-less" glory.
So how on earth did this gastronomically obscure tradition start? There is no patron saint of tomatoes or miraculous explanation of a tomato ritual, whereby locals beseech the gods for good weather and fortune for next year's harvest. It so happens the tradition was born way back in 1945 when some locals got carried away in a restaurant food fight. It must be the sheer fun of it that led to the "small-time" altercation taking on such epic proportions.
The phenomenon even hit the international headlines on 28 August 1997, when articles and photos of the Tomatina revelry appeared on the front page of the Washington Post. The original disruptive diners must be very proud.