(21 February — 22 March, 2023)

As I sit here on Day 240, feeling deep love for Valencia, I’m aware that Las Fallas is partly responsible. How could I not love a city that prioritizes art and community over bus routes and working days? Or a city with community organizations so committed that they’ll invest their time, energy, and resources in celebrating for a full month straight?

There are costumes, fireworks, special fried dough treats, street parties, parades, and light & music shows. All of that is alongside the creation of elaborate statues with the intention for them to be enjoyed for all of a few days before being burned to the ground in a huge nod to the “process over product” idea that I love so much with a side of “experiences over possessions” that speaks to me even more since our move.

So, what all came together to make me fall in love with Las Fallas?

Las Fallas First

The preparations for Las Fallas hit our barrio on the 21st of February. The slow build of excitement, extra for me since this was the first time and I had no idea what to expect, was delicious.

Several weeks before “the big weekend” our bus routes changed, and stayed changed through about a week after La Cremà (more on that later). They had to change because several streets were closed in anticipation of the huge sculptures that took days or weeks to erect. The statues were, of course, in the middle of the street, sometimes in the middle of an intersection.

Shops and restaurants had different hours, sometimes due to celebrating, and sometimes due to being inaccessible due to the street closures and statue placements.

The city center FILLED every day for the 2 pm mascletàs (more on those later), with people leaving work/school/home to participate.

Casal Culture

I have been a sucker for squad life since watching Grease back in the 70s and Las Falleras y Los Falleros definitely got my attention. These community centers (my words, not theirs) are all over the city and, apparently, the autonomous region overall. Each one has a logo/coat of arms type thing that identifies membership and designing and building the statues of the holiday are an annual activity. Many have marching bands — MARCHING BANDS — and I’m sure there’s even more cool things involved about which I have no idea.

During the month of Las Fallas the Casals have street parties, don costumes (think princesses and pirates) based on honoring the silk trade, and, of course, build/place their amazing works of art that are the hallmark of the holiday.

There are two things keeping me from signing up to join a Casal — my lack of fluency in Castellano (not to mention Valenciano which, I think, is the language more frequently used in at least the Casal closest to us) and my fear of being “that guy” by barging in where I don’t belong. For now, I’ll just work on being their biggest fan.

Las Fallas Themselves

These statues are ah-may-zing! And their intended to only exist for a weekend! And did I mention how amazing they are? All over the city, las fallas demand attention. Some of them are HUGE (like building-height), some of them fill their intersection, and all of them are works of art.

We didn’t find them all (yes, there’s even a pokemon-esque app to earn points along the way). I’m not 100% sure how one would unless hunting them down was *all* one did for the full weekend. Riding the busses and catching glimpses of them, going for walks and letting the presence of lights and flags pull us off course in search of them, and even just knowing that the city — the whole city — was full of them brought big joy to my heart.

Las Fallas is something of a love it or hate it holiday and I am solidly in the love it camp.

Days 185–214: Las Fallas was originally published in Desire Path on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Let me tell you about my current work in progress. I’m working on her (very slowly) in a class at Arte43, one of a handful of small, independent art supply stores here in Valencia.

I’ve created her over the course of 4 sessions so far, spread out over the last several months. I discovered the shop and the class while accompanying a friend on a holiday shopping trip. On that day back in December I’d been in Spain for about 4 months and was just finishing up my first round of formal Spanish classes.

I was so excited to discover people making art in the back of the shop that I pushed past my fear and bashfulness to attempt to ask about the classes en español. The shop-keeps were patient enough with me to answer my questions both in Spanish (slowly) and in English, and that they didn’t just drop into English entirely sealed the deal. They were willing to welcome me into class with my rudimentary command of their language and, best of all, understood that I wanted to work on both my art and language skills while there.

At my first class I mostly kept my mouth shut, used a lot of gestures, and fumbled my way through a process that wasn’t the same as what I was used to — it was so awesome! That was on December 28.

At my second class I talked enough to explain that I’d missed the entire month of January due to Covid and had tiny conversation with classmates. I also got comfortable with brush-mixing (though I missed my trusty palette knife). That was on February 1.

At my third class I was able to understand more of the conversations happening around me (though I didn’t participate — I was pressed for time!) and navigated paying for class todos en español. I finished most of the block in. That was on February 10.

At my fourth class I held my own with a conversation with a classmate while waiting for the store to open, made my way through a conversation with my teacher about what had kept me from class the prior few weeks, and followed her feedback about how to make changes to my piece. That was on February 24.

I’m doing quite a lot beyond going to my art class to work on learning the language: working with apps, taking classes, working with a tutor, going to intercambios, using it in all dealings with people out in the world (cafeterias, stores, etc…) and using Spanish as often as I can muster it at home. A huge hurdle right now is mustering up the confidence to use what I’ve learned, and doing things like going to an art class where everyone is speaking Spanish is both showing me what I’ve learned and pushing me to do more.

While my painting has just about as far to go as my language skills, both are moving in the right direction, poco a poco. By the time I’m done with her, she’ll definitely be worth a thousand (Spanish) words (or more).

Days 130–188: What is a picture worth in Valencia? was originally published in Desire Path on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

It has been a while since I added to this travelogue. I guess that’s mostly because it felt less like ‘travel’ and more like ‘change’ at some point. However, since today marks exactly six months from our arrival in Valencia, I feel like reflection is in order.

First, language. Every time I learn a new idiom (from a children’s book, of all things), I become more certain that I will remain forever illiterate and barely functional in Spanish. Yet, I am actually becoming capable. I no longer just clam up when confronted with difficult situations and I have had actual conversations with actual Spanish speakers; not clear, fluid conversations, but conversations. I still freeze when something comes at me without context, but when I know the boundaries (e.g.: you are my waiter and are probably asking routine questions) I can muddle through and even ask questions and receive answers. That’s gotta count for something.

Next, people. Quite simply, Spaniards are kind and patient and willing to help. I know that’s not aligned with a stereotype, and I’ve even heard that the people here in Valencia are especially callous and mean. I gotta say, that’s probably you, not them. I’ve had chats with cab drivers late at night. I’ve made — well, since I worked in food service, I know the limitations — acquaintances who recognize me (I hesitate to call anyone a ‘friend’ who gets paid to be nice to me). I know other dog walkers who are out for their end-of-evening stroll, and are willing to muddle through a few words with the neighborhood weirdo who can’t even pronounce ‘perro’ correctly. All that doesn’t even scratch the surface of friends I’ve made who also happen to be in the ‘voluntarily displaced persons’ category like me. People are lovely, perhaps because the place is lovely.

Six months is a long time and a short time. More than 180 days of being able to buy or make a cup of coffee (think about it, what all goes into either buying or making a cup of coffee or two every. freaking. day.) to start the morning. Over 25 weeks of Sundays when the stores are closed but the cafes and cafetarias are open. Work and classes and dog walks and grocery stores and beer and wine and sand and food and help and hugs. So many things. Just a year ago, the possibility of living elsewhere was a question, but just today I enjoyed the first lunch on our terrace since December. This does not suck.

We are looking forward to the weirdness that is Fallas — if you don’t know, look it up — where the streets will be closed and the community will pay for dozens of pieces of giant art, and then also pay to burn it all! We are looking forward to fleeing holy week — because explosions are one thing, but Easter is too weird here — to enjoy the tulip festival in Amsterdam. We are looking forward to the seasons of late sunsets and lovely warm days, and maybe even taking advantage of the growing season in little pots on our terrace. We are looking forward to a long time in Spain, so these first six months are (hopefully) just a short time in a much longer expanse.

here and now was originally published in Desire Path on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.