The Fallas

I'm late with this. I also wrote it much more quickly than I normally write my blogs so apologies for any failings of style. If you want to go to the Fallas they finish tonight so, if you're interested, you'll probably have to wait till next year. Put it in your diary now, March 19th, that's the date for the burning. There are things to see during the week leading up to the 19th, particularly after the 15th. Towns, like Denia and Xàtiva, have Fallas too but the big one is in Valencia. Oh, and Elda has Fallas in September.

This is not a Wikipedia article and I haven't done anything other than the most basic check of my facts. It's just what I know, or think I know, so it's quite likely that there will be factual errors. But it's enough to get the idea. Honest. There will probably also be inconsistencies in spelling because I speak English but sometimes I will have used the Valenciano expression and sometimes I'll have used the Castilian translation.

The basic idea is easy enough. Most of the districts in the city of Valencia, think Pimlico, Mayfair and Kensington, set up a Commission which then organises the details for an event that is called Fallas. They co-ordinate the things in their neighbourhood and decide how to arrange contributions towards the city wide events. Each Commission also selects a young woman and a girl sized woman to be their senior and junior "Carnival Queens", the Falleras. One young woman gets to be the city wide embodiment of the Fallas, the Fallera Mayor. 

One of the principal activities of each Commission is to raise enough money to build a Falla, a monument. The money comes from local fund raising and sponsorship. Apparently the only monument that involves any public money is the one built in front of the Town Hall. Some of the monuments are modest and some are huge. They are made of wood, papier maché, polystyrene and glass fibre. Each Falla has a theme - usually some satirical comment on a current affairs story but it can be almost anything from a Royal affair to the argy bargy around a TV competition. The individual figures are called ninots and I think that before the Falla is put together the ninots are often paraded around the local streets. The individual Fallas monuments start to be put up a week or so before the big day, the 19th, when all but one of the ninots and Fallas are burned. Each Commission puts up a smaller, children's Falla, as well as the principal one. The last day on which the monuments have to be up and finished is by the day of the Plantà, usually the 15th of March. The actual burning takes place around midnight on the 19th, going on 20th, but it depends a bit on the availability of fire crews to make sure that the bonfire doesn't get out of control. Lots of the monuments are surrounded by impressive displays of lights. Visitors may not notice but the locals are often as interested in the lighting around the Falla as they are about the impressiveness of the monument itself.

The Fallas are based on the celebration of Saint Joseph, so there are any number of masses and religious events during Fallas but, for your average non believer, the days during the celebrations start with some unrepentant bands wandering around making a lot of noise from 8am each morning. The Fallas wouldn't be the Fallas without fireworks so expect lots of loud explosions too from the same time.

Each day, at 2pm, the Mascletà is set off. The Fallera Mayor gives the order from the Town Hall balcony. Various firework companies get the job of designing a soundscape in fireworks. There is hardly anything fired into the air, just batteries of fireworks that go bang, bang, bang, bang a bang. Lots of the bangers are hung from washing line type supports. This year I noticed on the telly that one of the mascletas featured blue and yellow, Ukrainian coloured, smoke. The crescendo usually produces a rolling, rumbling thunder which is easy to appreciate. I've heard a mascletà booming out beside a rock band - each one alternately taking up the melody. Once upon a time it was easy enough to get quite close to the bangers in Valencia but nowadays they are set off in a cage type structure and the crowd is kept well back. I think all of the local Commissions have their own mascletá at some time. I remember one time, years ago, staying with friends and going to check that my hire car was OK. I found that it was the only car left on the street and that it was now parked under lots of mascletá type bangers. I had to drive down steps to extract it because they'd built a Falla on my obvious escape route!

There is also a huge firework display each night at midnight in the river bed. It's an hour later when the flower offering, the Ofrenda is on. 

You may have noticed this fire, fireworks, burning sort of theme. On the evening of the burning, the Crema, there is the Cavalcada del Foc. I'm sure that you've seen one of the local Corre Foc, running with fire, events where people dress up as devils and run around the streets exploding fireworks all over the place. This is much wilder. The picture alongside is from Petrer.

Away from fire and explosions one of the events I like is where all of the Commissions make their flower offering to the Virgen de los Desamparados. She's actually a big wooden frame that's set up in the square by the side of the Cathedral and all of the Commissions arrange for lots of their people to parade to the square with offerings of flowers. The people parade into the square for three or four hours on two separate days! Somebody makes a design each year for the cape that the Virgin wears so each of the Commissions is asked to bring this or that colour flower to make up the final design. Each Commission, usually led by their Fallera, troops into the square almost certainly with their band playing the tune Valencia. The clothes they wear are spectacular, the men less so than the women, but even the men look pretty dapper. The women's frocks can, apparently, cost as much as 20,000€ but I understand that most cost a couple of thou. Given that there are 392 Commissions in the 2022 Fallas and just short of 100,000 registered participants the clothes themselves must be quite an industry.

As you might imagine there is a fair bit of revelry associated with the Fallas. Each Commission will arrange street parties which are called verbenas. There are set rules about when and how but I think there are three nights, starting at 10 and going on till 4am, when there are dances in the street with musicians and DJs. When they're not allowed to have the street celebrations they put the music inside the big tents that each of the Commissions sets up. If you're in Valencia during Fallas don't expect to get a lot of sleep.

What else? If you do go buy yourself some of the buñuelos, the doughnut type things that are actually made from pumpkin. A bit of a variation on the churros and porros theme. And, if you feel like it, buy some of the little bangers, the petardos, so you can hold your own in the firework throwing stakes.

Quite a few snaps somewhere in this album of March 2022 photos.

A leisurely time when women wore picture hats

I've read a few books by a Spanish author called Vicente Blasco Ibáñez (1867 -1928). A couple of the books were about life in Valencia, about the new bourgeoisie, the sort of people who didn't make their money by the sweat of their brow but by playing with money. The sort who despite being in debt need a new carriage to keep up appearances, the sort who would go on to be politicians if only they would stop impregnating the scullery maids. I found the picture the books conjured up of Spanish life at the tail end of the 19th Century fascinating.

We went to Valencia to catch up with one of Maggie's nieces who was in the city for a European Arts Project. Maggie had booked a hotel that was about 3km from the Cathedral, near to the City of Arts and Sciences. It was in a district full of the sort of buildings that conjured up the characters from the Blasco Ibáñez books.  Big impressive buildings with lots of decoration, ample windows, high ceilings and fancy facades. The streets were lined with trees and there were lots of shaded little squares. Just around the corner was the old course of the River Turia. For the Blasco Ibáñez characters the circuit round and round from one side of the river to the other offered the perfect opportunity to show off those new carriages, flaunt that Parisian dress and even to allow appropriate, chaperoned, conversations between young men and women.

Valencia city centre is another showcase for those big turn of the Twentieth Century buildings that are so typical of the centres of many Spanish cities. We don't have anything similar in Culebrón or even in Pinoso. In fact there were quite a few noticeable differences between the Spain that I live in and the one that we visited for a few hours.

Somebody complained about some of the generalisations that I often make on this blog. They told me that I shouldn't draw conclusions about Spain from Pinoso or Cieza or Fortuna, which they referred to, as España profunda, Deep Spain. I took issue with my reader on the grounds that nowhere is particularly isolated nowadays. If you can watch Akshay Kumar and Nimrat Kaur in Bollywood's Airlift as easily as you can watch Kit Harrington in Game of Thrones on your mobile phone, if you can follow the progress of some round the world cyclist as they cross Uzbekistan via their Facebook page and if the drones overflying Afghanistan are controlled from Lincolnshire then it stands to reason that nowhere offers a safe haven from modernity. Even those who want to live in a cave will still find the world chasing them down through old technologies like television and radio. That said there are major differences of course. Living without running water in Havana or being enslaved in Nouakchott, Mauritania bears little comparison to living in Chelsea or the swanky bits of Mumbai. Conversely Pinoso and Valencia are hardly worlds apart.

So we were in Valencia and I thought these houses are nice, I liked the dappled light effect from the sun shining through the trees. I liked the variety and the choice of cakes in the tea shoppy sort of bar we went to. In the central market the stalls were perfectly ordinary but they were selling in an innovative way - micro brewery beers here, oriental vegetables there - a little twist on my everyday. I know a mango smoothie is hardly a hold the front page moment but we are a bit short of smoothie stalls in Pinoso even if you can buy the product in the supermarket. There were hire bikes, the segway groups, the guides showing people around the Old Exchange and the good sounding tour from someone explaining the War of Succession in Estuary English to a bunch of Dutch and French people. All something for we yokels to gawp at. The bars were a bit trendier, the shops were a lot more diverse, there were buses and taxis to take you where you needed to go. On the other hand I was quite sure there was some skulduggery with the addition on our first bill in that tea shoppy bar, the noise of those buses and taxis and bikes and cars pounding down those sun dappled avenues was extremely unpleasant and the interminable hunt for a parking space amongst those leafy squares was exasperating to say the least. The crowds of tourists following the raised umbrella kept bumping into me and spoiling the snaps. There were a lot of people who approached us with outstretched hands or hoped that we would pay to hear them play the bandoneón. It was great, it was interesting, we were surrounded by galleries and great architecture. There were expensive cars and things happening and tourist information and people from all over the world and there were business people doing their thing with suits and posh skirts but it was even better when the motorway quietened down and the countryside opened up and we saw Almansa castle in the distance and the dusty little towns and countryside of Deep Spain spread out before us.

Feeling left out

As I abluted this morning - is it a verb? - I listened to the radio as usual. The, apparently intentional, forest fires in Asturias apart the only news was about the General Election which is taking place today

I don't get to vote of course. Perhaps I should throw some tea into the harbour or something.

So, as I sat looking at the computer screen pondering on the outcome - PP (Consrvatives) to win I suspect with PSOE (Labour) coming a distant second in some places but generally being ousted by Ciudadanos (Liberalish sort of tinge) and Podemos (talk the talk leftist bunch) a disappointing fourth and with a couple of other national parties being annihilated - I wondered who I would be voting for if I were able to vote.

The voting system in Spain is a list of candidates for each party. So, if we were talking something similar in the UK the list would be headed by Cameron with  Osborne second then May, Hammond, Grove, Fallon etc. and for Labour Corbyn, McDonell, Eagle etc. All the names by the way are from UK websites - apart from the top two names I don't know what these people look like.

It wouldn't actually be one list as the constituencies are based on the regional divisions or autonomous communities and the various provinces that make up those communities. To push the comparison there would be a list for London and there would be lists for Regions like the West Midlands or Yorkshire and Humber. The provinces would be similar to divisions such as Herefordshire and Shropshire. So Cameron might be at the top of the London list and Osborne at the top of the Shropshire list with no chance whatsoever of not being elected.

So I thought I'd have a look at the lists for the region of Valencia and the province of Alicante to see if I recognised any of the politicians. There's been a bit of murmuring because Podemos have a black woman at the head of their list in Alicante and she will almost certainly be the first black deputy in the Congress. I had heard nothing about the other candidates. Indeed it actually took me ages to find the lists. There were plenty of press reports mentioning the people heading up the lists but actually finding the full lists with the twelve candidates and three reserves for Alicante took some doing. It just shows how different the named MP system in the UK or the named representatives in the US are to the party system operated here where personalities are much less important.

I thought I recognised three names but, in fact, I was wrong about two of them. The current Foreign Minister heads up the PP list for Alicante and him I recognised. I thought Toni Roma was a defector from UPyD which is a party that, I think, will disappear at these elections but I was mistaking him for Toni Cantó or maybe for the chicken place in Benidorm. I was really surprised to see the name Ana Botella too. The one I know is the ex Mayor of Madrid and the wife of the ex President of Spain José Maria Aznar. Surely she was a member of the PP - why was she on the socialist list? The answer of course is because it's a different Ana Botella.

There are also elections for the Senate today but nobody cares about those except the potential senators and their families.

My prediction, by the way, is that there will  not be a clear cut result and the face of the next Government will depend on the horse trading that goes on over the next few weeks.

Sunday night addition: The votes are nearly all in. It's a PP win with the PSOE second Podemos third and Ciudadanos fourth. Wrong order from me then but the prediction about horse trading as right as right can be. The pundits are drawing little pictures on the telly to show a left right draw. Now the fun begins.

Souls in danger

It was a  Bank Holiday weekend (of sorts). You could tell this because the day off, the Saturday, was overcast and cool. We went to Valencia or, to be precise, we stayed in Alfafar. We behaved as tourists should. We went on a boat ride on l'Albufera, the freshwater lagoon, with just a dash of salty sea water, surrounded by lots of rice paddies, to the south of Valencia city. We dutifully ate rice cooked in a paella for lunch. We even tried to find the beach.

I'd not booked a room until a couple of days ago so our late choice of hotels, so close to the coast, was a bit limited. I basically took what was left. As the electronic wizadry guided us past IKEA, past Media Markt and past the MN4 shopping centre it dawned that the hotel was in the middle of some gigantic retail zone. So instead of passing our evening wandering the streets of an ancient city centre we strolled the corridors and courtyards of a shopping mall. In fact we went to the flicks, Operación U.N.C.L.E. - passable enough.

No whisky to be had amongst the various food franchises around the shopping centre when we came out so we decided on the hotel bar. As we walked pat Burger King we realised that the tailback for the "drive thru" service was the cause of the traffic snarl up. Inside a queue to be served was so long that it was doubled back on itself. All the tables and chairs we could see through the big glass windows were full, the terrace was heaving with people, there was a lot of noise and everywhere was covered in that usual Burger King detritus of paper cups, torn sachets and crushed chips. The customers were old and young, gangs of friends, families and couples,  - it looked like a Burger King advert; it was so all embracing and so exuberant.

Food is a common and popular topic of conversation here. Spanish people after visiting the UK often comment sadly on British food. I have had conversations with Spaniards about how to tell good ham from poor ham just by looking at it.

But in that Burger King at 11pm I glimpsed the Spanish future. Just like us. Meals served from packets. The family meal, eaten together, gone. Individual food for each person at different times. Waiting for the microwave to ping. Offal served only to pets. Grandma's recipes forgotten. The kids have already started to have obesity problems.

"It's good living here," said Maggie, as we passed through the hotel lobby, "We can get one of those McMuffin things for breakfast". "I like the way they make the eggs the right shape so they fit".

Valencian Community Day

We live in the province of Alicante. Along with Castellon and Valencia these three provinces make up the Valencian Community.

Back in 1238, on October 9th, King Jaume I to give him his Valencian name or Jaime I in Spanish successfully took Valencia City as part of the Christian reconquest of Spain. The Moorish invaders weren't actually cleared from all of Valencia till 1305 and the last bits of what is now geographically Valencia weren't added until 1851. Nonetheless, when the powers that be were looking for a day to celebrate being Valencian they settled on October 9th.

In the days when public holidays used to take us by surprise our pal Pepa, who is a born and bred Valencian, told us that on this day the tradition is to give little marzipan sweets wrapped in a silk handkerchief. Wikipedia tells me that this is because October 9th is also San Dionisio's day who is the patron saint of lovers (odd, I thought Valentine had that job sewn up). I remember going in to Pinoso back in 2005 to search out the sweets to hand over to Maggie. All I found were locked and bolted cake shops. Apparently San Dionisio doesn't have much sway in Alicante. His patch is Valencia province so there is no confectionery to be had in Alicante.

I work in Murcia so it wasn't a day off for me today, Murcia day is June 9th. But I did pop into Pinoso to have a look at this morning's events. Basically there was a dance troupe "Monte de la Sal", the opening of a revamped play area named for the recently deceased first president of the current democracy Adolfo Suarez and a play for children called something like "Looking for King Jaume."

It was nice if not exciting. I walked up from the town centre to the new play area following the dance troupe and their escort of giants and bigheads as well as the great and the good of the town. A couple of people said hello to me and all around me people were greeting neighbours and pals. There was even a lot of that high fiving amongst younger people. Pinoso certainly doesn't seem to have much of a problem with community with or without a day to mark it.

Trains, culture and city life

I had a lot of trouble getting a job when I was a young man. One day in the 70s after another disastrous interview I was on the milk train back from London to Halifax. It was early morning when the train made an unscheduled stop in my home town of Elland presumably waiting for the signals or somesuch. Beeching had done for Elland as an official stop. I jumped out of the train (no conductor controlled doors in those days) and despite the protestations of the British Rail staff legged it over the semi derelict platforms and pushed through a hole in the wire that I knew from my boyhood adventures. It saved me the four mile hike back from the official stop in Halifax.

Yesterday we decided to travel to Valencia for one last outing before I go back to work on Monday. We agreed to use  the train. Quite by chance we'd been in the station at Villena a couple of days before. That's where I got the idea. It was interesting looking at the routes of the slower trains that run on the wider traditional gauge of Spanish railways. The train we got from Elda for instance had come from Cartagena and had passed through Murcia, Elche and Alicante. From Elda/Petrer it went on to Villena, Xátiva, Valencia and then up through Teruel and on to Zaragoza. Plenty of interesting stops there, Plenty of places that I had never thought of as train destinations. As well as our route there was another that went up to Barcelona and a third went through Castilla La Mancha taking in Campo de Criptana (one of the places with lots of white windmills) on its way to Ciudad Real - a town I haven't visited for years.

One of the reasons that the very fast Spanish AVE trains cover the ground so quickly is not just because they can travel at over 300 kph but because they don't stop. Between Alicante and Madrid for instance, a distance of just over 420kms, they stop just twice to keep the time to around two hours and ten minutes. It adds fifteen minutes to put in another couple of stops. I think I've got used to thinking of trains as long distance services rather than considering their routes through lots of interesting towns.

Spanish trains are usually clean and prompt and generally it's allocated seats too. So even if there are suitcases all over the place on the crowded routes you still get a seat. Prices seem reasonable to me. The 290km round trip cost 31€ for full price tickets or a tad under 25 quid. Covering the 450 kms from Madrid to Cartagena in January of this year on a special ticket (no passes or cards - just an offer) cost me 15€.

So we got off the train into the modernist Estación del Norte built in 1917 and we were plunged into Valencia city. There were back packer type tourists everywhere, a variation on the tourist families of the Costa Blanca, and lots of lots of ordinary people just going about their lives. Valencia is the third largest city in Spain and even on a Saturday it was obvious that we were a long way from Culebrón.

I always like to take in an exhibition when I'm in a town. To be honest I'm not a good gallery goer. I soon get bored of looking at pictures or sculptures or installations or whatever but I just love going to galleries. Places full of ideas, the effervescence of human endeavour. Maggie suggested the Cathedral. That sounded good to me too as it's years since I've been inside. The entrance price (wasn't there a story about Jesus and people doing business in a temple?) included a surprisingly interesting audio guide despite lots of references to polychrome figures and retables. And, unlike the Monty Python crowd we didn't have any trouble finding the Holy Grail. It's stop 20 on the audio guide.

We got to a gallery too, though they are always termed museums in Spanish, with the IVAM, the Valencia Institute of Modern Art. To get there we wandered through the bohemian Barrio Carmen which is full of bars, eateries, antique clothes shops and bike hire places. We even found time to down a jug of Agua de Valencia, a sparkling wine, orange juice, gin and vodka combo before heading back to a Talgo train to whip us back to Petrer and the waiting Mini.

Rhyme and reason

One advantage of the English language is that the word banker has an obvious rhyme. The Spaniards share the sentiment but not the rhyme.

To the best of my knowledge this is a vastly oversimplified but basically accurate description of the Spanish banking system. Essentially, in recent history, there have been three types of "bank".

The first is the standard commercial bank; the bank raises capital and then lends money to people and organisations in order to make a business profit. The second is the Caja de Ahorros, a Savings Bank where the money for loans came from the deposits of the savers. Many of the Savings Banks in Spain originally loaned money against pawned items. The profit from the operation is used to support loans to savers and a certain percentage is diverted to a charitable foundation to support "good causes." The third institution, the Rural Savings Bank, has syndicalist or co-operative roots and was originally developed to promote agriculture in rural areas.

At sometime in their history the Savings Banks were limited to operating within geographical boundaries so that the CajaMurcia, the "Murcia Savings Bank" operated in Murcia and the Caja de Ahorros del Mediterraneo or "Mediterranean Savings Bank" did business in Alicante and Murcia. As the legisltion was relaxed the Cajas began to operate further from home. Somewhere along the way regional politicians got involved in the running of the majority of the Savings Banks often because of the influence they wielded through the charitable foundation of the Caja.

So the history of the Cajas de Ahorro is a familiar story, similar to the UK Building Societies. Local Savings Banks merge to produce larger institutions which look, to anyone without specialist knowledge, almost exactly like banks though their names at least suggest some link to the locality.

There were tens of big and powerful Savings Banks when we first arrived here. Lots or maybe all of the Cajas ploughed money into what is now worthless land, overpriced houses and grandiose and redundant building projects. As the debt burden caught up with them and the regulatory authorities started to investigate the level of bungling, cronyism, mis-selling and straightforward theft started to emerge.

Recent legislation, the demands of Brussels and the European Bank have all helped to change the face of Spanish banking. Unfortunately the system we live in depends on the banks acting as the conduit between lenders and borrowers so we, the taxpayer we, have been forced to bail the bunglers and crooks out. I resent that and I would be very happy to see lots more of the fraudsters go to prison. Fat chance of that though - the old boy network is very alive and well in Spain. Only the other day one of the alleged culprits from one of the biggest failed bank mergers got himself a nice little number as an advisor to the old ex state monopoly telephone company.

Anyway. I understand that only two Savings Banks still exist in Spain. All the rest have become commercial banks. We went to Ontinyent today to have a look at one of them. It looks pretty modest doesn't it? In fact it was the 43rd biggest of the 45 Cajas in Spain but 43 of them have gone. Now the Caja de Ahorros de Ontinyent is the largest survivor. The other the Caja de Ahorros de Pollensa is in Mallorca on the Balearics.

Apparently it's in perfectly good financial shape, it's bosses and workers get reasonable salaries, politicians are not involved in its operations and there is not a whiff of scandal about the way it does or has done business.

Billowing skyward

Nuclear Power Plants always take me a bit by surprise. I remember the first time I saw the one at Heysham when I was catching the ferry to the Isle of Man. It was just there. No more fuss about it than a bus station or an industrial estate.

Today as we passed the Cofrentes Power Station I thought it sobering that alongside the enormous, and picturesque, steam cloud coming from the twin cooling towers, was a nuclear reactor which might, at any time, do a Fukishima or Chernobyl and start killing and polluting for generations to come. On a sunny and crisp December day it just looked tranquil. The cooling towers plonked in the middle of the landscape weren't quite so romantic but the fluffy steam clouds rising to play with the vapour trails left by passing jet planes seemed very peaceful. Much more peaceful than the busy blades of the hundreds of wind turbines in the area. There are windmills dotted along the top of nearly every ridge in the borderlands of Valencia, Castilla la Mancha and Murcia.

Spain currently has eight nuclear reactors running on six sites. Two more reactors are in the process of being dismantled after suffering "incidents." Within the last few weeks the operators of the Santa María de Garoña plant in Burgos have said that they will close that plant down ahead of schedule to avoid paying a new tax which will cost its owners approximately €150 million per year.

The largest percentage - 33% - of electricity production in Spain comes from renewables of one sort of another. Next up is nuclear with around 21% and then come the combined cycle with about 19% of the power generation. I presume that the missing percentages are from the older non combined cycle power stations.

Iberdrola, the people who send us our electric bill, own Cofrentes. It produces 1,110 megawatts. I have no concept of a megawatt fortunately the operators make it clear that this is a lot. They say that Cofrentes could, singlehandedly, provide all of the domestic supply for the three provinces of Valencia. In 2010 the plant ran faultlessly for 365 days without any halt in production and provided nearly 5% of all the electricity used in Spain that year.

The website of the Nuclear Safety Council mentions that all of the reportable events since 2005 at Cofrentes have been Level 0 on the International Scale of Nuclear Events - that is ones which have "no safety significance." However, between 2001 and 2011 Cofrentes made 25 unplanned shutdowns and reported 102 security events three of them at Level 1 which is classified as an anomaly but where there is still significant defence in depth.

The Nuclear Event Scale has three levels of incident and four levels of accident. Chernobyl and Fukishima are way out at the front at the moment on Level 7. The 1957 Winscale Fire was a Level 5 event, on a par with Three Mile Island in 1979. Sellafield has also had five Level 4 accidents between 1955 and 1979. In Spain the biggest incident to date, Level 3, was at  Vandellos in 1989 when a fire destroyed many of the control systems and meant that there were almost no safety systems remaining. Vandellos is one of the two plants that are being decommissioned at the moment.

I don't suppose there are quite the same sort of specific accident and incident scales for bus stations and industrial estates.