Celebrating Tomatina

Throw Tomatoes at Spain's Biggest Fiesta

Each year, on the last Wednesday in August, over 30,000 people gather in Buñol’s plaza and surrounding streets, and this year I am one of them. What are we here for? To witness a religious miracle of a statue of the town’s patron saint weeping tears of sangre? To remember some significant historical event that took place in this spot hundreds of years ago? No—we are here for a much stranger and more frivolous reason: the largest food fight in the world.

For most of the year, Buñol is just like any other small town in Spain. Situated just outside the busy city of Valencia, the residents can enjoy an easy commute to the fast pace of commerce and tourism, with the peace of mind that the traffic is one way. It is a peaceful town, undisturbed by hordes of visitors greedily swamping their streets, bars and restaurants. In late summer, however, this all changes.

The annual tomato throwing fiesta—La Tomatina—is one of the weirdest, and yet best known of Spain's fiestas, and attracts tourists from all over Spain and the rest of the world.

Taking part is certainly a fundamental element of this fiesta. Unlike other major festivals likerunning of the bulls, there is little opportunity to be purely a spectator at the Tomatina.

The History of Tomatina

The Tomatina crystallizes Spain’s all-or-nothing passion for celebrating, even if no one is quite sure exactly what it is that is being celebrated.

The fiesta began over 60 years ago, although stories about why the original tomato was thrown, or how it became an annual event are vague and vary with every person you speak to. For the most part, the town is happy to forget about the why, and just enjoy the party.

We arrive in Buñol in time to join hundreds of other fiesta-goers in the square. The fiesta now brings thousands of tourists to the region to enjoy the Tomatina, as well as the pre-fiesta concerts and events, and the town hall endorses and actively promotes the fiesta. Buñol prides itself on being one of the cleanest towns in Spain, as the pavements and building walls benefit from an annual "facial" from the acidic tomato juices.

Throw Tomatoes at Me

As the fiesta begins, it becomes clear that while we may like to rationalize our decision to be here by giving cultural reasons, the truth is, we just want to get messy. Trucks full of ripe tomatoes begin to roll into the square just before 12 o’clock, and the people mounted on top are the first to throw the tomatoes. Chaos ensues, and the crowd surges in to stock up on ammunition.

We are packed in the streets shoulder to shoulder, and personal space goes out the window. I dodge more than one elbow as I try to scoop up some tomatoes into my T-shirt. More tomato trucks arrive, and quickly everyone is coated in bright red tomato pulp, laughing and grinning ear to ear like playful kids.

There is a feeling of raw abandonment that reminds me of throwing water bombs at friends in the summer when I was a child—the paradox of the thrill of doing something mildly bad with the freedom that comes from knowing that it is allowed.

I launch a tomato at a girl who I saw briefly at the bus station and giggle with a childish satisfaction as it finds it mark, splattering red pulp across her cheek. Her retaliation hits me square in the forehead, and the remnants of the tomato slide down my nose.

After only a few minutes the street is awash. Splashing in ankle-deep puddles of tomato juice and pulp is an extremely surreal experience. People stop throwing tomatoes in favour of scooping up large handfuls of the runny red stuff in the street and splashing the crowd. I feel like at least a ton of tomato is plastered all over my T-shirt, arms and legs, and I am sure that my hair will be tinted red for a month.

One thing is for sure—given the heat of the past few weeks of summer, I can’t blame people for going a little nuts. When the loud bang of a firework signals the end of the battle, the crowd is unceremoniously hosed down in an attempt to wash off the worst of the tomatoes. It is the perfect way to cool off at the end of a hot sticky summer.