3 AM on the night of March 19th, the last day of Las Fallas, and I had every intention of writing a post about what I had just seen and experienced.  I got as far as sitting down in front of the computer and sorting through some photographs, then…BOOM!  Fallas burn-out hit me.  36 hours later I can finally face this small task, just barely.
Living in the centre of town, in the heart of the celebrations, has been fun but tiring.  The band that blared away into the wee hours …

Do they burn the Virgin?
I think this is the first question that any newcomer to Las Fallas asks.  I mean, if they are about incinerate 500 or so fallas, the most expensive representing an investment of over 1 million euros, what’s to stop them here?
As it turns out, the Virgin is not reduced to ashes.  She is allowed to stand in her flowery splendour until her body is virtually rotting away - is that better, really?
The Offering of Flowers - Ofrenda de las Flores - takes place on the 17th and …

A Real Blast
Wow, the Valencians love gunpowder.  From our fifth-floor perch we can hear countless explosions throughout the day and night - and we are lucky enough to be able to see a good portion of the nightly fireworks display in the Turia park (a dry riverbed system that amazes me with its vastness).
Last night I came home to a sleeping household - despite the amazing noise coming from the square - and took this picture as I sipped on a cider on our terrace.  The display was quite impressive …

In the past week I’ve written thousands of words about both the past and the present of Las Fallas, Valencia’s signature celebration.  As ridiculous as it seems not to dedicate a lengthy and detailed post to this virtually inexhaustible subject (or inextinguishable?) event, I just can’t do it.
Here’s what I’m offering instead: the chance to read some of the articles I’ve written for other sites - Expatica and Eat In Valencia; and a series of vignettes about these incendiary celebrations as they unfold around us.
I’m not widely known for brevity …

Just the other day I heartily agreed with a friend of mine that the term ‘expat‘ isn’t a good description for people who choose to make their home in a foreign country.  For him the term is most closely associated with corporate employees who spend a year or two recreating their own country within the borders of another while waiting for their tour of duty to end; never learning more than a few words of their host culture’s language and little else about their surroundings.
And then I happened to notice …

After a lightening-fast decision making process and a hurried series of good-byes in Barcelona over Christmas, we finally (only four weeks later) arrive in Valencia. Only a little wrinkled…

Part 2 of 3 recounting how circumstances brought us to our new home in Valencia

Part 1 of 3: How we were quickly convinced that life was conspiring to make us happy in Valencia