When the going gets tough, the tough bugger off out of it and throw themselves into a strange land where there’s loads of firecrackers being thrown.
Yup, I’ve yelled in the face of Her Majesty’s weakening sterling and hopped on a train to Valencia, to soak up the sights and sounds of Las Fallas, the city’s annual pyromaniac’s dream.
Sadly, my hotel, the Abba Acteon, has rubbish and overpriced wi-fi and there’s a general lack of the stuff in the city, so my plans for a lovingly-made multimedia travelogue haven’t really come to much. The vogueish among you could always make do with Twitter, if you’re really desperate to see what I’m seeing.
Or you could always call in at Hola Valencia, who shot the video above and actually live here, instead of coming here once a year, grunting “Hola!” and “Gracias!” and not bothering to learn any more of the language.
I’ll try to stick something up later, if I can, even if it is only the absurd muzak in the lift. In the meantime, it’s back out to join the throng!