Las Fallas in Valencia, Spain, is the Coolest Festival You've (Probably) Never Heard of

It's like Burning Man times three hundred.

Apr 22, 2024

For the audio version of this article, read by the author, go here.

Las Fallas, which takes place in Valencia from March 15th to March 19th, is Spain’s second largest festival, but I’d never even heard of it.

This is even more surprising given that, like Burning Man in America, the festival culminates dramatically in fire. Except, unlike Burning Man which only burns a single effigy, Las Fallas involves the burning of hundreds of “fallas” — that is, different artistic installations made of wood, Styrofoam, and papier mâché.

And “la Cremà,” which is what these final conflagrations are called, is just one small part of this amazing festival.

A falla engulfed in orange flames and black smoke. — *Las Fallas’ big finale — la Cremà.*

Brent and I recently spent six weeks in Valencia, but not because of Las Fallas. We didn’t even realize it was happening until after we’d made our arrangements.

But by the time we arrived in mid-February, we’d seen photos of la Cremà, and we were both very intrigued.

By March first, the locals were already getting in the mood, setting off firecrackers at all hours of the day and marching through the streets playing music. Valencia is the birthplace of paella, and residents also began cooking great, bubbling pans of their most famous dish on sidewalks and in squares all over the city.

On the right, Valencians gathered on the street, on the right a big pan of paella cooking on the street.

I was determined to learn all about this upcoming festival, so I enlisted the generous help of Eline van den Heuvel, the co-owner of a local, independent tour company, Valencia Inside.

Two weeks before Las Fallas, Eline arranged for me to visit Ciutat Fallera, or Fallas City. This is a collection of old warehouses that has been converted into huge artists’ workspaces: where the various fallas artists construct their different flammable displays.

An artist applying paint to a ninot, while more ninots wrapped in plastic stand behind him.

This is where I first got the sense of how seriously this city takes their festival. I have no idea how long it takes Burning Man to build their single effigy of wood every year, but I’m sure it’s nothing like what happens in Valencia.

Most neighborhoods in the city have their own “casal,” a kind of community organization. And each casal commissions their own individual falla, hiring artists who sometimes spend the entire year designing and building these temporary works of art. The largest fallas can cost up to €250,000 — or $265,000 USD — and even the smaller ones cost many thousands of dollars

This year, Valencia’s various casals unveiled almost eight hundred different fallas — every one of which was burned at the end of the festival.

At Ciutat Fallera, I was able to see artists putting the finishing touches on their works. It turns out the casals usually do two versions of their falla: the central one and also a smaller, thematically related piece for children.

Michael standing in front of a very large Pinocchio ninot.

No one knows exactly how this all started, but the festival dates back to the Middle Ages. It probably began as a way for carpenters to honor Saint Joseph, the patron saint of carpenters. Historians theorize they probably burned the leftover scraps of wood collected during the winter.

Before long, the carpenters and their neighbors began making figurines— called “ninots,” Valencian for “doll” — out of the scraps.

Three ninots: a gay pride one, a scary tree with a face, and a man cradling his newborn child.

Eventually, many of the ninots became satirical, poking fun at the powerful members of Valencian society.

A man and a woman dressed in bright colors, a scary looking old man standing on a tank and clutching missiles, and two Spanish polititicans dressed like Chinese mandarins. — *Politicians, celebrities, and pretty much anyone famous can be a target.*

And over the years, they became much more ambitious — bigger, taller, and more colorful. Most now incorporate Styrofoam and papier mâché, and some tower impossibly high.

Three large falla filled with bright colors.

“Las Fallas is much more than just the fallas and ninots,” Eline told me. “It’s also la Crida, la Planta, the Ofrenda de Flores, and of course, the mascletà.”

I didn’t know what any of that was, but I was determined to find out.

And I did, attending as many of these events as possible.

La Crida, or the Call, was the opening night of the festival, marked by speeches and a fireworks show.
La Planta, or the Installation, was when the hundreds of fallas created for the festival were installed in the neighborhoods all across Valencia on a single night.
Ofrenda de Flores, or the Offering of the Flowers, was a procession of more than a hundred thousand men, women, and children dressed in traditional attire, carrying bouquets of flowers to Plaza de la Virgen. In the plaza, the flowers are gathered up to literally build a massive monument of the Virgin Mary.
And a mascletà turned out to be the setting off of row after row of firecrackers and other explosives hanging from strings, all of them connected by fuses. This pyrotechnics display has to be seen and heard — and felt — to be believed. And they do this every day for nearly three weeks, all over the city — supposedly, to ward off evil spirits.

Hundreds of red firecrackers strung over a street. — *A mascletà, about to be lit.*

Brent joined me for some of this, but to hear him tell it, I was becoming my usual, obsessive self.

Perhaps so, but there were still things I was missing. One night, I was too tired to go to the Nit del Foc, or Night of Fire, which is a fireworks display over the incredible City of Arts and Sciences.

More than that, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing the most important part of Las Fallas. What in the world motivated the Valencians to put on this fantastic — and fantastically complicated — festival every year? What role did it play in Valencian society? Because this seemed like more than just another festival.

Once again, Eline came to my help, bringing me to the headquarters of one of the casals, Sant Bult, located in Old Town.

Pots of bubbling soup, a sign with the name of the faller out front, folding tables set up in the main room of the casa. — *The casal was more modest than I expected.*

With la Cremà fast approaching, it was a busy day for the members of Sant Bult. In the nearby kitchen area, three big pots of soup bubbled away, ready to feed the casal’s 150 members when they returned from visiting a nearby casal — another important part of Las Fallas.

Amid the bustle, Eline introduced me to Marcelino Rubio Vidal, one of the officers of this 150-year-old casal.

Sant Bult’s fallas was a towering Black woman dressed all in yellow with a headdress of flowers, birds, and fruit. I was curious how the casals paid for incredible works of art like this, especially ones that would only be displayed for a handful of days.

The fall of the Black woman on the right dressed in a bright yellow dress as she wears a headdress of fruit and a tropical bird; on the left the artist. — *The falla “Art en Foc,” and Enrique Iborra Lobejón, one of the two artists who created the falla.*

“All year long, our casal hosts dinners and fundraisers to raise the money we need,” Marcelino said, with Eline translating. “Plus we get sponsorships from businesses.”

“So that’s the function of the casal?” I asked. “Planning the project and raising the money?”

Marcelino shook his head. “It is much more than just that. We also have presentations explaining the importance of Las Fallas to younger people. We do classes teaching about the hairstyles and the traditional clothing. And we go and meet with the other groups and spend time socializing.”

So it was about more than just the spectacle?

Marcelino, wearing a traditional costume and posing next to a smaller ninot; second picture, Marcelino with his wife, also in a traditional dress that is blue and covered with a floral pattern. — *Marcelino and his wife, Inmaculada Llario Almiñana.*

“I think maybe eighty percent of Valencians participate in Fallas in one way or another,” Marcelino went on. “Some join a casal. But others just participate in the ofrenda and march in the parade. Others go to the fireworks or to watch la Cremà.”

“Many others work building the fallas themselves,” Eline added. “That employs many people, as does manufacturing the firecrackers and fireworks. All of that is done here in Valencia.”

“So in a way, this binds the city together?” I suggested.

Marcelino nodded. “Exactly. I think before I was born, I was already in the Fallas.”

Young women wearing brightly colored dressses, white headdresses, and carrying bouquets of flower marching down the street.

A short time later, Eline and Marcelino led me outside, and I immediately heard the sound of a pasodoble, the lively Spanish music used in bullfights. A small marching band of musicians was fast approaching.

A moment later, we were surrounded by music and people in traditional costumes, everyone singing and laughing.

A grandmother, mother, and granddaughter, all shimmering in colorful fallera dresses, held hands and spun around in a circle.

Nearby, a father “danced” with his infant son.

A father wearing traditional clothing holds his infant son in his arms as they participate in the pasodoble. His four old son is next to him.

Mostly, I saw joy — so much that I found myself moved nearly to tears.

I tried to think of an American equivalent. The Elks or Rotary Club? The Superbowl? Maybe celebrations at some churches, synagogues, and mosques, but even America’s big holidays — Christmas, the Fourth of July, and Thanksgiving — paled in comparison to this.

“This is genuinely magical,” I said to Eline. I had to talk over the sound of the music.

She grinned.

Michael, Marcelino, and Eline posing in front of the casal members celebrating in the street.

So here it was: I’d finally found the point of Fallas — its meaning. The ninots and mascletas were fantastic and fun, and I was soon to be dazzled by the raging bonfires of la Cremà.

But Las Fallas is really about this community and the way the festival has bound them together for hundreds of years.

I was genuinely happy for people I was watching, as well as the city of Valencia.

But I was also a little jealous — and even a little sad — because I’ve never known anything quite like this myself.

Here are some more photos from la Cremà.