Spot the Brit ... oh no ... it's a Yank!

We headed out to Valencia on Thursday, to see La Crema de la Fallas which is basically the last night of a 5 day fiesta. One thing I can say about my adopted country is this. The Spanish know how to party. And party they do, at any given opportunity.

But its not a leave the ‘oldens’ at home kind of party, it’s a lets get the whole family, young and old, and the neighbours and hell the whole city and take to the streets and have a proper party. Don’t worry about the logistics, as the police will just close down the city, and the shops will close. And the bars and restaurants will open late, and even if they don’t we will just throw up a 100 or 5 marques and serve drink and food from there.

And I am not lying when I say that this isn’t a once a year occasion, the Spanish use any excuse. Good on them I say.

Anyway I am wandering.

So off we go to the Fiesta, and its packed, I literally mean hundreds of thousands of people who taken to the city for the party. Being used to the Spanish way me and Drew stand around for a couple of hours before the main attraction at 1 in the morning, the burning of the statues, we have our drinks ready, we’re chatting to the people around us. As the time comes closer the crowd is bigger and we’re packed in like sardines, can hardly breathe without touching the person in front of us, but as is normal in Spain people are still laughing, still happy, none of the push to the front we’re going to cause a major catastrophe and get a couple of hundred people squashed to death ideas that can happen in the UK.

God, I remember thinking I am so glad that this is not a British crowd. The Spanish (like the rest of the world) have their own views on the Brits (what is about us that makes us leave our brains on the airport baggage carousel when we go abroad?) so we’re standing, nicely, waiting. Laughing, drinking, having fun.

And then I hear it, Spanish voices start to be raised in temper, people being knocked down, children crying from being pushed and shoved and over it all I hear the cursed language … English. Oh shit. Me and Drew look at each other and decide to carry on speaking in Spanish we want no part of this.

BUT … as the pushing comes closer and the arguing becomes more intense I breathe a sigh oh relief. No, its not the British this time (wow, everyone celebrate). It’s a group of American girls.
No intent with crossing half the world to see the fallas, they want to piss off a crowd of 100,000 people while then push to the front. With not an ounce of respect for children or the elderly in their way, they kick, push, pull their way to the front. And the excuse?

Well we’ve come all this way …you have to let us through.

It was like watching a rerun of Ibiza Uncovered, or one of those videos of Spring break ... but this is a Spanish traditional Fiesta guys, not a drunken orgie of college students!

Answers on postcard please, why is it that people who speak the English language also come with a good old wedge of ignorance.

Anyone up for learning Hindu?