LOCATION: Bunol/Valencia, Spain
( I would like to dedicate this post to Javier S., Shadee M., Kenneth H., Matthew P., Sharlene G., Jeremy M., John S., & Angela F., for without them, this post would not exist.)
You’ve heard the stories again and again.
Small town setting. Hundreds and thousands of wanderlusts from all around the world, emotions pregnant with awe, angst and excitement as they are provided a form of release through a very unique act of freedom, tomato throwing. Every year, on the last wednesday of August,something crazy happens. It’s called La Tomatina.
Google a picture and you’re bound to see streets full of people colored in varying shades of red. Sometimes you may see trucks that find a way to maneuver through these tiny streets. Sometimes you may see people who appear to be climbing a wooden pole trying to obtain a mysterious object that is…yes you’ve guessed it… HAM!. You hear the stories of the chaotic nature of such an event, and why it is something you should conquer before you kick the big ol’ bucket.
But what about the other stories?
The kind of stories that are so abundant with events like La Tomatina, or any other festival in the world. The story about those whom travel the lengths of the world just to experience the dream of being pelted by a wholesome tomato (YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO CRUSH IT FIRST!!) on the side of the head.
How about the story of how, a suit from Miami, a Lion from Australia, and Superman, and others joined forces to conquer Spain?
How about the stories of how missing a bike tour of Valencia,
lead to conversing about Kanye West’s “Yeezus” album over tapas and pitchers of sangria in the Old Town,
which then lead meeting new friends from across the international date line?
Or…
The stories of scrumptious PAELLA?
Or…
How some of us learned how to twerk (*Cough* KDAWG *Cough*)
Or…
How about the story of how strangers from all walks of life, managed to come together and create a bond that could withstand the swarm of a gazillion Valencian tomatoes thrown all at once.
Now pardon the horrid analogy, but travel is sort of like a flying tomato during La Tomatina. The tomato may hit an unknown target, and sometimes, it falls wayside only to be picked up again for it to have another chance of striking some body part. The same is with traveling to different places. Sometimes it’ll be an amazing experience, sometimes it’ll be the worst thing ever. Luckily, for the most part, most of my experiences have been life changing, and even the worst ones hold irreplaceable value.
La Tomatina 2013 was one of those experiences that will always play at a special venue within my mind. For those 72 hours brought me the kind of happiness fun that can’t be replicated anywhere else. For those who were apart of those 72 hours, I can only wish that one day, we get the opportunity to meet again, so that we can live the dream out all over again.
So here’s to the late nights spent trying to learn each other’s slang terminology, dancing off-beat to ridiculously cliche songs and downing shots that may be 80% water. Because, it doesn’t matter whether you say TOH-MAY-TOE, or TOH-MAH-TOE, for the very differences in the way we annunciate our words, shake each other’s hands, or hold our values, are a means of not separating us, but blurring the lines that make us just that, different.
Until next time amigos and amigas!
-PASSPORT|kenny