The last of Fallas’s mascletàs is always something special — it’s only too bad that the weather didn’t play along nicely for the crowd, or for Pirotecnia Caballer.
Before I get to praising the mascletà, lemme just complain about one thing: Spanish people and their umbrellas! They simply don’t care about whose views they’re obstructing, or whose faces they’re poking. This lady in front of us nearly put my dad’s eyes out 50 times. When we asked her to be a little more careful, she responded with a dismissive shrug, and continued to wave her umbrella around haphazardly. And did she put it down when the fireworks began? Ha!! She raised the fucking thing higher! Ours was hardly a unique situation. The same thing was happening all over the plaza, confirming my theory: elderly Spanish people could really care less about anyone else.
But the mascletà? It was AWESOME! The shock waves were so tremendous that you could see the umbrellas vibrating. We loved it from beginning to end, and it was almost enough to erase our annoyance at the Umbrella People. Almost.