Euro Trip Part 15: Spain & La Tomatina 07

Spain Travel Blog

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Stop! I'm allergic to tomatoes...

02nd September 2007

Spain and La Tomatina ’07 (euro trip part 15)

Current Mood: Thankful

Category: Travel and Places




So we had success with the couchsurfing! We were going to stay with a student fella called Santi without having to pay any financial cost or perform sexual favours, which was a relief cos I was getting pretty exhausted by this point of the trip.

Look at this dude!
And it was a great experience! Yes, it was our first time, but it was Santi’s first time too so we were very gentle with each other due to our lack of experience and we were all a little nervous. And now that we have tried it, we want to do it again and again. Like I said, no sexual favours.


In Valencia Mands and I acquired a really cool map. It was an illustration map telling us where everything was with a 5 years olds drawing showing us what the buildings supposedly looked like. As mentioned before, it was a cool map but it wasn’t a really cool map. What would have made it a cool map was if it had an explanation telling us what the buildings were and what they signify, and as a result we trooped around Valencia taking snappy snaps of buildings that even today I haven’t a fucking clue what they are. At one point during our illustrated mystery tour we ended up bursting in on an intimate church service where upon the people at the back swung their necks around to see what the disruption was. We managed to squeeze one photograph in before hurrying away to see what other no name buildings we could find.

After getting slaughtered by the Bunol locals at La Tomatina '06, Del arrives at the '07 after a years training by annoyingly throwing tomatoes at people in his local Tesco's. Confident of revenge, the Bunol locals battered him... again...


It wasn’t long after I reached the centre that I was aware of a funky smell in the vicinity I knew it wasn’t my body odour as earlier I washed in Hugo Boss, applied CK deodorant and was wearing David Beckham fragrance, a pretty sweet cocktail if I say so myself. A quick check on the soles of my trainers to see if I stepped in something nasty revealed nothing and I blew my nose to make sure no one had played the prank of placing some dog poo up my nostril whilst I slept – ever done that to someone? After walking around a tad more I soon discovered the reason for the funk… the city generally just stank.


Valencia beach was nice as far as beaches go, and I even managed to get Mands to sing out loud the Baywatch theme as I walked towards the water in slow motion and generally looking really cool. Now I know my skin colour is a bit on the pasty side what with my Irish roots and all, but even I thought it was a bit much when I heard ‘white English’ when walking through a crowd of tanned local Spaniards. I felt like turning around and saying, ‘Oi, see this colour here mate? There is many generations of work gone into this skin tone and it’s a colour you can never achieve. As for your bronzed skin tone, you muppet you, I can but that in a bottle in Boots for £4.99 - so get fucked!’ But I thought better of saying this as I was vastly outnumbered.


Unlike last year when I arrived at Bunol half cut on Spanish beer after travelling all the way from Barcelona, we found ourselves making the relatively short train journey that was packed with so many bodies one could be mistaken to thinking its final destination was Auswich. I had old scores to settle with the Bunol locals. Last year I was here it was for fun – this time it was personal and I was ready for revenge, but soon found myself losing the battle before the war had even began as I was pressed up against some sweaty hairy guy for well over a minute until finally managing to peel myself away from Darwin’s missing link to evolution. And once I managed to do that, well, it all kicked off really. I was chucking tomatoes at everybody from people dressed in chemical suits to blokes wearing dresses to even throwing a tomato at myself – I figured I needed to score at least one direct hit. The end of the tomato fight signalled the beginning of the t-shirt fight whereupon anyone who was still wearing a T quickly had if ripped off them from a Spanish pack of wolves. My homemade painted T displaying ‘Stop! I’m allergic to tomatoes’, which proved useless by the way, was torn from my body along with a thin layer of skin and the suntan I’d spent the last two months working on. The T fight was at one point temporarily stopped by a massive Spanish guy who looked like he’s eat me for siesta if I slapped a soggy T over his face.


Ever since after the 2006 event I’ve had a small tomato tree growing from my left ear, to which I offered you the remarkable price of £1 per kilo. Real beauties these tomatoes are and customers of mine will be happy to hear after this year’s event I now have another tree growing this time from my right ear. These ones are a little more expensive at £1.50 per kilo as they are organic but I can confidently assure you shan’t be disappointed with the quality. Supermarket giants Tesco have already expressed an interest in regular produce.


Leaving Valencia we arrived by coach in Madrid at the stupid time of 1:30 in the morning and with nowhere to stay, which pretty much left only one prospect – walk to the train station and join Bum Town. After a 2 hour slog we only go and discover the station is closed but alas, there were a group of travellers already sleeping in a huddle on the pavement upon which we squeezed ourselves in between them and created a tramp sandwich. We probably smelt like one too. Madrid as a city I reckon didn’t have much to offer us – unless your name is David Beckham whereupon it has £120,000 a week to offer. But I’m not David Beckham, obviously, and so couldn’t afford to spunk 10 Euros to enter the shitty Royal Palace, although I did have a light bulb moment to create just as much, if not more earnings My Beckham has ever netted. I was whilst I was running around the city like a headless chicken, only with the body of a man, and a head for that matter, when Mands and I were offered a city tour on one of those 2 wheeled buggy’s you stand on. You know the ones, it looks like you’re going to go arse over tit the moment you stand on them but due to amazing mechanic, and a bit of Prit Stick, you manage to stay on. A good idea I though, but wouldn’t it be better if you had the same option but sitting down? So I present to you boys and girls my latest Get Rich Not scheme – Del’s Electric Wheelchair City Tours. Sit your lazy ass in one of my electric wheelchairs and see all the city sights from the comfort of your own chair with the added benefits of concession prices into most attraction and museums. Let’s face it, when you roll up to the ticket kiosk in a wheelchair they’re hardly going to ask for your disabled card are they?


So Madrid was a bit like Vienna – bugger all to do except go to a pub and there we stayed until we left to go to the train station, where we came across yet another collapsed person, one for the road I guess, before jumping on our flight back to an unfamiliar place called home.


And that was the end of a years planning and 2 months travelling. Like one of those ghost story television shows I feel at this point I should do some conclusion at the end of the show, the usual type of crap just to kill off those last few minutes they have left before the adverts kick in. Maybe you’ve travelled around Europe, maybe you haven’t, but hopefully I taken you on a journey of a different perspective, albeit an often twisted one, but if you want to look up normal touristy views go and bloody watch ‘Wish You Were Here’. No really, it’s not a bad programme to get tips from. But anyroad, I had some of the best months of my life in Europe, from driving over the Alp Mountains, walking through the eerie Hill Of Crosses, learning the horrors of Auswich, swimming in the beautiful Lake Bled, bungee jumping from a cable car, to all the people I met and became friends with along the way to name a few. But none of it compares to the best memories of all, which was having the most amazing person in Amanda to share these experiences with. I could be stuck in an empty country with absolutely no inhabitants and still end up having a great time in this girls company, so to backpack over Europe with her gave me the best two months of my life and stories that I’ll be telling to other peoples grandchildren – cos you readers can get fucked if you think I’ll ever be having any!

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Stop! Im allergic to tomatoes...
Stop! I'm allergic to tomatoes...
Look at this dude!
Look at this dude!
After getting slaughtered by the B…
After getting slaughtered by the …
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