Pyromania: The people's passion

Dangerous in inexperienced hands

Search for long enough in my blog and you'll stumble across articles describing the fun of the fiesta and the Spanish national obsession with dangerous things like matches and fireworks. What I forgot to mention, accidentally on purpose but for a good reason I'll come to presently, is that once a year the city of Alicante has a bit of a shindig involving both. Think about that for a quick second while I just add that the United Kingdom can only be trusted to play with bonfires and fireworks on one evening a year.

A typical Hoguera

For quite a few weeks now some incredibly talented and artistic citizens of the provincial capital have been hard at work preparing exquisitely detailed papier mache caricatures of fictitious, and sometimes famous, people which will all be painted with the same love and attention to detail in all manner of pastel shades.  Financed by neighbourhood collectives, Comissió's,  these fabulous monuments, Hogueras, some of which are 15 or 20 metres high, will then be strategically placed at important road junctions and plazas throughout the city on the evening known as La Planta. This, in order to be inspected by a local judging committee and admired, photographed and generally swooned over by the passing public.

Alfresco dining? certainly Sir!

In keeping with fiesta week everywhere else in Spain, various different events take place during Las Hogueras de San Juan, (the city's homage to Saint John and the coming of the summer solstice), which run from June the 20th until the 24th. For seven nights the second category Plaza de Toros is put to good use as bull fight aficionados enjoy the best corridas of the year in Alicante. Glance around and you'll see marquees and sound stages being erected, beer pumps being polished and the outdoor caterers begin to see euro signs. Meanwhile, the clock ticks inexorably onward to the 24th!!

Smell that gunpowder

In and around Alicante city, the 24th of June is the biggie; all fire brigade leave would have been cancelled months ago, burns units at local hospitals are on red alert, (have you figured out yet where I'm going with this?) and nearly every major thoroughfare is closed to traffic. The day starts just like most others and slowly gains momentum, until, by early afternoon, the real fun kicks off with a mascleta competition, which, the official guide book describes thus.   .....an explosive display of the concussive effects of co-ordinated firecracker and firework barrages, where people catch the pungent smell of gunpowder smoke and feel the earth shaking beneath their feet.....    Not a bad Spanish to English translation at all I'd say.   You like??
Read on then because that's just the start of all the mayhem.

Sometime around midnight, a few hours after the last bull fight of the week has finished, a sparkling palm tree rises from the highest part of the city, Benacantil Mount, atop which sits the imposing Santa Barbara Castle. This signals the start of the burning of all those street monuments, La Crema, the part of the evening the thousands and thousands of people, who by now have thronged the streets. eagerly await. One by one the simply brilliant Hogueras are burnt down to their skeletal wooden frames under strict instructions from those ever so attentive officers of Blue Watch, who I'm reliably informed, douse the millions of spectators with their hoses as each blaze dwindles away.

Alicante city map with the location of each Hoguera

This year, my sixth Spanish summer, I'm going to make the handy five minute walk from my house to Elche railway station and leap on the train for the twenty five minute ride to Alicante. Very thoughtfully, those jolly kind RENFE folk have laid on return chuffers round the clock so I'm going to make good use of their generosity and invest 3.50€ of my hard earned on the very comfy return trip. Assuming I make it there and back, look out in the coming days for a post script to this blog entry. If you don't see one immediately you can rest assured I'm being given expert medical attention at the Spanish equivalent of Holby City.

Alicante's beautiful Esplanada on a quiet day

POSTSCRIPT - SATURDAY JUNE 25TH 2230 HOURS

Well, we made it there and back unscathed and with nothing important singed off. I would just add though that my faith in RENFE, the national rail operator, was badly misplaced. Their promise of a return train every hour turned out to be when they fancied sending one, invariably at a random departure time only when the things were full, rather than anything close to a scheduled service. Maybe that's just me being churlish. Whatever. Alicante city centre and waterfront on the night of the Hogueras really are the places to be and busier than I've ever seen them; with visitors squashed into the usually large, open spaces shoulder to shoulder, the evening is a pickpockets heaven and a demophobics hell.

Fireworks, as always in Spain, start things off.

So difficult is walking from place to place with that number of people, the girlyfriend and I quickly realised our intended viewpoint, somewhere near to Alicante town hall close to the historic old town, was going to be out of the question. Instead, we settled for a spot at the northern end of the Esplanada, an exquisitely tiled walkway lined on either side by palm trees that runs parallel to the yacht marina. We'd been here a few days earlier on a leisurely stroll to admire the impressive Hogueras and could see immediately the lines of masceleta's strung around the model specifically for tonight. A short time later, an ear shattering racket from these strings, accompanied by plumes of grey smoke, fireworks and a huge roar from the crowd, signalled the start of the burning.


It was all over within moments, the flames licked hungrily skywards as weeks and months of detailed work caved in on itself, sending showers of sparks and dense black smoke skywards. Sooty smuts then headed in the opposite direction, covering my immaculate white polo shirt in unwanted black extras. Almost immediately, I was struck by a feeling of intense disappointment, a mammoth anti-climax in real time exacerbated by narrowly avoiding being soaked from the jet of high pressure water sprayed in my direction by an over eager fireman playing to the gallery. We sloped away, with me deep in thought or dismay, quite probably both, wondering what all the fuss was about and feeling somewhat underwhelmed.

Beautiful works of art were soon reduced to a water soaked pile of ash

Spain's biggest religion

El Rosario

The answer to my rhetorical question may not actually be the one you were thinking of. Judging by the vast quantities of rosary beads, for which the best description can only be ubiquitous, Catholicism is clearly massively popular up and down the country. As a rule of thumb though its devotees tend to come in two large groups; older folk and pre-teenage children who, from a young age learn the teachings of the Catholic faith, (Catechism), as the precursor to taking their first communion at about the age of eleven or twelve. Itself a massive event for the families involved. That then is the young and old catered for but what about the people, and there are millions of them, who are neither? Who are they and where do they perform their acts of religious devotion? Read on for those answers and more. 

Bill Shankly once said.........

For a start, and unlike kids and pensioners, they get the whole summer and every second Sunday off, although at busy times Tuesday and Wednesday nights can be a bit of a nightmare and every couple of years they might have to put in a few hours in June or July. So who exactly are they? If you've not guessed yet I'm going to torment you for another five or six lines. The objects, (plural because they often have more than just the one deity), of their desire alternately delight or dismay and yet these passionate followers still turn up in their droves week in week out in hopeful expectation. So fervent is their dedication, a great many television companies in Spain now feel compelled to broadcast events live for the insatiable masses. Masses that worship a pastime involving a spherical object made of leather being hoofed about various green fields in all weathers by eleven grown men.

Recre' - by Royal appointment 

Believe it or not, football in Spain genuinely does equal or better the huge popularity of that German bloke from Rome with a hat that's just a bit too small for his head. To prove my point I'll also just add that the biggest selling daily newspaper in Spain is a football based publication; when you've finished screwing your face up in disbelief, rub your eyes and read that again because it's true. Presumably though sales of Marca in and around Barcelona are a little down on other parts of the country because it's so heavily biased in favour of Real Madrid. Fans of Gimnastic de Tarragona and Athletic Club de Bilbao would strongly disagree, but Recreativo de Huelva are generally accepted to have been the first football club in Spain and just to ensure nobody forgets it, especially the aforementioned two clubs, both ends of Recre's Nuevo Colombino ground have the year 1889 spelled out in the blue and white seats.

Four hours to Old T by car

Obviously, believers in Spain can't practice two religions and so something has to give, invariably the confessional, because during the season a great deal of top class, in fact every category of football, takes place on a Sunday. In the UK much is made, usually by fans of Manchester City or Liverpool, of the fact Manchester United's fans don't have a Lancashire accent and travel to Old Trafford from somewhere like York or Basingstoke. Imagine then the fun this lot, with their sour grapes, could have in Spain, where every small or medium sized town wherever that may be in the country, has a traditional supporters club, Peña, (penya), where the members can pay homage to their heroes at Barcelona or Real Madrid. Even with a top division of twenty clubs and a couple more than that in the decent quality second category to choose from, you wouldn't believe the following the two giants of Spanish footy have built up. In point of fact, many fans have a "clasico" favourite, Madrid or Barca, and like me also follow their home town club. You can probably guess the preferred option faced with a choice of whether to watch one of the big boys live on television or head of to the stadium to watch a Second Division match. This a particular problem at Elche CF who have to make do on gates of considerably less than ten thousand, an ongoing problem exacerbated greatly by attractive looking fixture clashes.

Sunday best in Bilbao

The final word goes to season ticket holders at Basque outfit Athletic Club de Bilbao for whom, much to their disgust, the history books don't lie. Not only are they blessed with a successful side, (eight times league champions and second only to Barcelona on the all-time list of Spanish cup winners), their stadium, the San Mamés, is also affectionately known by their flock as The Cathedral, (La Catedral). This therefore bestows upon them the honour of being the only club side in Spain revered in a place of worship, mighty handy I'd say for the kids and the OAP's. Rather aggravatingly, Spanish blokes look good in football shirts too, probably the absence of a beer gut and tattoo's I spect!!