Lot's Wife Edition 4 2016

CULTURE
Food fight
By Layla Homewood
Illustration by Natalie Ng
It's that time of year again. Winter is creeping up on us,
casting grey clouds over our university, while sheets of rain
stunt our motivation for those 9am lectures (okay, so we never
had the motivation for them in the first place, but the rain isn't
making them any easier). And as our winter approaches, everyone
seems to be jet-setting off on a European adventure to soak
up the rays which are so rudely ignoring our part of the world.
And we know what summer in Europe means; festivals.
Around this time, we expect crazy and vibrant and exhilarating
festivals for any reason. But in my memory, one event
in particular stretched the limits of every possible expectation.
Hosted every year, on the final Wednesday of August in Bunol,
Spain, is the world's largest food fight, otherwise known as La
Tomatina. Before going to this 70 year old festival, I had come
to terms with the fact that Spain was a lot more full on than
where I'm from. But I was not prepared enough for what I had
to face at the festival. No matter how much you're told about a
certain place, or how much you research or prepare for it, you
will never be completely ready until you're there, and this was
no exception.
I know what you're thinking. "I already know what the
Tomato festival is. It's where a bunch of tourists get drunk and
throw tomatoes at each other." Well, look, you're not wrong.
But there is so much more to the event than you may originally
believe. Before the tomatoes come out, before the chaos and
mayhem of the brutal war even begins, a whole host of other
traditions must first take place.
Exactly how the bizarre tradition began is still speculated.
Some say it all started with some young children from the
town, a horrible busker, and a hand-full of tomatoes used to
shut him up. Others believe a parade through the streets of
Bunol went awry when a fight broke out near a vegetable stand.
Either way, the act managed to stick and be repeated for many
years to come.
Now, over 50 years after its inception, hundreds of stalls
are perched on the side of the road trying to sell traditional
sangria as you, a humble warrior in this mighty war, make your
way to the street where the fight takes place. Not only do the
locals embrace the annual tradition by selling traditional food
and drink, but those who actually live in the street where the
fight occurs (yeah, there are people living there) flock to the
roofs of their buildings with even more sangria and massive
buckets of water, to pour on the sweltering people below. As
the tiny, narrow street fills with tourists and locals combined,
drenched in sweat, alcohol and fresh water, a courageous bunch
of individuals will try to climb a two-storey-high pole covered
in slippery animal fat and claim the leg of ham perched atop it.
Yeah, you heard right. For hours before the first tomato is
thrown, everyone attending the festival crams into the slender
street and cheers others on as they make every many and
varied attempt at claiming the leg of ham. And it's no easy
challenge. In the past few years of the tomato festival, the leg of
ham has remained untouched and unclaimed, leaving a string
of disheartened, animal fat and tomato covered festival goers
in its wake.
So by 11am, you can imagine 22,000 excited people all waiting
for the first cannon to signal the beginning of war. You can
imagine the ancient street, the width of only two cars where
they're all crammed in. And you can imagine the anticipation.
Whether you scaled the building walls for a better scope of
the juice-drenched crowd (careful! If you stand on something
tall, people tend to see you as an easy target), or were thrown
around in what was affectionately coined "The Kill Zone," the
area where truck loads of tomatoes would be unceremoniously
dumped every 10-15 minutes for a frenzy of festival goers to
dive upon, you'll end up completely a part of the festivities.
By the end of the fight when the final cannon has sounded,
you're literally shin deep in a brutal mixture of 50% tomato
juice, 20% sangria, 20% water, and 10% urine and vomit (urine
from people who didn't want to lose their precious place before
the fight, and vomit from people who suffered one too many tomatoes
to the mouth or one too many sangrias to the stomach).
So while your friends are off gallivanting amongst the
European sun, while you're struggling to think of a new way to
put off that 3000 word essay, remember to expect the unexpected.
But most importantly, if you're expecting a massive
tomato fight, expect to be standing shin deep in someone else's
urine too.
Lot’s Wife | 51