So, the arrival of Maria, La Senora de la Asuncion is a religious event that was some 700 years ago here in this part of Spain. The story goes that a coffin-like box washed ashore with her or something representing her inside. It washed ashore on the beaches of Santa Pola not far from here. So today was a big day representing her arrival. But as always we didn’t know the details until we were in the middle of it by accident.

So, in addition to parades and bands in the street, today was an all-day celebration fiesta with a full-blown religious procession in the streets with beautiful young ladies in Spanish dresses and long cream-colored Spanish lace covering their hair and cascading down their backs. There was a marching orchestra playing epic music matching the grandeur of the parade to celebrate her arrival.

So Jorge and I went out this morning not realizing what was happening beforehand except knowing today was a non-working holiday with most businesses other than some restaurants closed. While having coffee we saw the ladies and the children dressed in elaborate gorgeous Spanish brocaded dresses of every color heading somewhere. Firecrackers had already been going off intermittently and the church bells ringing almost all morning so we knew today was special for something.

So, we followed.

We walked into Plaza Baix, a large beautiful plaza in front of the historical ayuntamiento (town hall) a 5 min walk from my apartment, and saw many people surrounding the outer edges of the plaza behind some red barriers.

So we walked toward the high-arched entryway of the plaza unsure where the parade would start or end.

Then we heard more fireworks going off in the distance. We turned and standing in the center of the archway we heard them getting closer. We moved closer to the opening of the plaza to see around the corner and suddenly we saw a police car driving down the center of the plaza headed right for us toward the arched doorway we stood under.

There was a firecracker rope exploding overhead that was strung above and exploding as the police car drove under and ahead of it. In the mayhem of the noise we barely had time to jump out of the way of the police car.  Then the fireworks exploded bam bam bam over our heads vibrating the air with smoke and fire shooting from each cracker. The smell of burnt paper and smoke was everywhere.  We nearly fell trying to miss the police car leading the rope above while trying to cover our ears. We were less than 10 feet beneath the rope of fire.

The police car zoomed past us nearly running us over and while the rope continued to explode down the street strung between the buildings. We watched dumbfounded as the rope of firecrackers exploded with white smoke billowing off it, turned right and continued down each street with the police car driving ahead of it.

Holy moly batman! I swear every time there are fireworks somewhere I don’t know about it or see it until somebody lights it and it’s too late, I’m six feet away from getting my ass blown off and losing my hearing, and now this time my head. I was flabbergasted that fireworks were even on a rope strung from building to building over the center of each street to follow the entrance of the parade. Who does that? Who has no sign to warn a person? Where are the police to keep idiots like me from standing under them? Who, man who? The Valencians that’s who.

Mios Dios….

Standing there after it went over our heads we had pieces of blown firecrackers all over and around us. Jorge’s jacket had burn marks on it.  He then checked my hair to make sure my hair wasn’t singed as well. Damn what if we caught on fire? Where were the fireman? And ambulances? Oh I know, near the church where the parade starts and ends. If you die at least there would be plenty of priests available to pray over you, but good luck finding a hose.

I’m sure the spectators got us on their cameras jumping sideways under the explosion. We could be poster children of where not to be during a fiesta. Watch for “idiot tourists jump under rope of fire avoiding police car, but burn their asses off. Story at eleven.

Near deaf now and smelling of smoke we walked toward the church. It was there we watched the rest of the procession with the men carrying floats of saints and the final huge, beautiful statue of the Virgin in white and gold with children dressed as little angels riding at her feet. There were at least 15- 20 men carrying the floats on their shoulders, wow. It was really impressive especially with the church bells echoing through the entire city and pieces of gold paper floating all around from the roof of the church. We watched until the last float entered the huge archway of the cathedral.

We took a breather and wandered around the live nativity scene next to the plaza and had a drink and a tapa composing ourselves after witnessing such a glorious procession, orchestra, and near-ass burning.

Then the final event. We found out on the police website at 2pm there would be the Mascletà: a huge firework explosion on the bridge outside the plaza near the church to culminate the day’s events (I assumed). No chairs, tables or umbrellas etc. allowed. Ya think? I’m not sitting where I may have to run from.

So as if I wasn’t deaf enough and smelling of smoke and ash we decided what the hell we lived this long let’s see how far we can get now. Let’s get close and watch this too.

We got a front row standing point at the metal barriers and began to film the bomberos (fireman) who were there. Gee, that’s where they were when the fire rope was over our heads three streets away. Why wasn’t a fire truck or ambulance following the rope of fire then? But I digress.

 I watched as the pyrotechnic guys dressed in black making adjustments to what looked like 50 hanging firework strings suspended on poles in the middle of the bridge, like a huge clothesline with multiple ropes of fire. There was a Z formation of firework rope that was leading from the beginning (near the barriers I might add) to three metal boxes in front of it then to the clothesline of firecrackers.

Interestingly, some of the pyrotechnic guys who were waiting, were only a couple of feet from each firework rope smoking. I had to look twice.  That’s right, a cigarette in their mouths a few feet from the soon-to-be explosions. I watched the police on the side and the fireman standing near me waiting. Not one of them said, “hey no smoking”! But if you had a fold-up chair, I bet they would start yelling. Lordy mercy, whose idea was this anyway?

And they had on no fire protective clothing like the fireman on standby either. Ok then. Maybe cause they play with fire they are invincible.

Anyway, I was 40 feet from where the main rope would light once it started. I counted how many feet away I was, trying to calculate what could go wrong and guessed how far the ambulance was from where I was standing.

I wondered what the headlines would say. Dumb tourist stands under rope of fire, nearly run over by police, then is set on fire with the pyrotechnic guy who accidentally set the Mascletà on fire while smoking.

Yup, I was wondering if my will was updated.

But then it happened; the fireman put on their helmets, the police and pyro guys moved off to the side minus any head or ear coverings I noted. There probably already deaf anyway.

Then a person from the church stepped into the area and the main pyro tech guy handed him the firestick to light the first-string while being filmed.  He was on a horse during the parade and was wearing a red cape. A bit risky Ide say, a flowing cape yet it was red so I guess he matched.

Photos were taken by media then the fire was lit. The caped guy then turned and nearly ran to the opening next to me to get to the other side behind the barriers and the spectators. He was the only one I saw with any wherewithal to move quick.

Boom! three explosions suddenly shot fireworks 100 feet in the air from the three silver boxes on the ground near the clothesline. Then the rope took off and exploded one by one in a Z formation … then the explosion doubled in intensity and the air rumbled and vibrated, as more fireworks shot into the air with a whistling sound. Silver flashes of fire shot out from each box and smoke billowed in the air.  I covered my ears as I saw the rope of fireworks heading to the clothesline.  Then the clothesline lit and in lightening fast succession the firecrackers went off up and down each rope shooting smoke and fire and pounding my ears. It went on for almost 10 minutes.  Then the crowd clapped and cheered like baby Jesus was born again.

The pyro guys all smiled in satisfaction, the fireman took off his helmet and the cleanup street truck came up behind the crowds toward the bridge to clean up the debris of flying paper and ashes. What a thing to watch. If I need hearing aids soon, we know why. We then wandered off looking for a cold beer to wash the sting of smoke from our mouths and celebrate the day witnessing something incredible and dangerous and yet still alive to tell about it.

It’s incredible how there seems to always be a reason for fireworks here; a parade, let’s shoot them off, a religious procession let’s shoot them off, a wedding, let’s shoot them off, a birth…. keep going…….

They say the Valencians and the Valencia region as a whole are full of fire lovers; adults and kids alike.. They mean it.

Never underestimate a fiesta; nor have an Asuncion, I mean assumption of safety.

My ears are still ringing.

On the day of La Senora de la Asuncion

Somewhere in Spain