The First Thing You Hear Is the Boom
It hit me somewhere around the ribcage. Not a sound exactly — more like a pressure wave, the kind you feel before your ears register anything. I was standing in the Plaza del Ayuntamiento at maybe 1:55 PM, still holding a coffee, and five minutes later the coffee was gone (vibrated off the rim, I think) and my whole chest was thrumming.
That was the mascletà. It happens every single day from March 1 to 19, at 2:00 PM sharp. And somehow it’s not even the main event.
Four Hundred Sculptures, One Match
The core of Las Fallas is absurd by design. Neighborhoods across Valencia — there are over 400 of these commissions, called casal fallers — each spend a full year building an elaborate sculptural installation. We’re talking structures that can top 20 meters, made of wood, expanded polystyrene, papier-mâché, and whatever else the artistas falleros can shape into satirical scenes targeting politicians, celebrities, and local gossip.
The craftsmanship on the best ones is genuinely impressive. The Special Section entries — maybe a dozen or so competing for the top prize — can cost upwards of €500,000 to build. The detail work, the paint, the sheer engineering of keeping a five-story satirical puppet standing upright. And then, on March 19, they light them all on fire.
All of them. Every single one. Except the ninot indultat — one small figure, chosen by public vote, that gets spared and sent to the Fallas Museum. Everything else burns.
The plantà happens overnight on March 15-16, when all the fallas go up simultaneously. You go to sleep in a normal city and wake up surrounded by towering satirical art. That part never gets old, apparently — Valencians I’ve talked to say they still walk around the first morning just to see what’s new in each neighborhood.
La Mascletà, or Why You Need Earplugs
Back to that thing with my coffee. The mascletà isn’t fireworks. It’s a five-minute choreographed explosion of gunpowder designed to be felt, not watched. The pyrotechnic masters (pirotècnics) compete throughout the festival, each trying to outdo the others in rhythm, crescendo, and sheer concussive force.
The sound regularly exceeds 120 decibels. That’s louder than a rock concert. The final mascletà on March 19 is traditionally the most powerful, and you need to arrive at least 45 minutes early to get close enough to feel it properly. Though honestly, you’ll feel it from several blocks away too.
Practical note: bring ear protection. Real ear protection, not tissue paper. Especially if you’re bringing kids. Firecrackers also go off constantly in the streets throughout the festival — random pops and bangs at all hours. It’s part of it. You get used to it. Mostly.
The Flowers
L’Ofrena is the quiet counterpoint. On March 17 and 18, from about 3:30 PM running late into the night (sometimes past 1:00 AM), thousands of falleros and falleras in traditional Valencian silk dress walk through the city carrying flower bouquets to the Plaza de la Virgen. The flowers get arranged into a massive floral mantle draped over a 14-meter wooden frame of the Virgin Mary.
It’s slow. It’s crowded. It takes hours. And it’s genuinely moving in a way that surprises people who came for the explosions. The contrast with the rest of the festival — the gunpowder, the satire, the general chaos — makes it land harder.
The Night Everything Burns
March 19, the cremà. This is the one.
The children’s fallas go first, around 8:00 PM. Then the large fallas at 10:00 PM. The first-prize Special Section winner burns at 10:30 PM, and the main falla in Plaza del Ayuntamiento — the big one everyone gathers for — goes up at 11:00 PM.
Firefighters position on balconies and at street level, hosing down facades to keep the buildings from catching. The heat pushes you back from the barriers even at a distance. You’re watching a 20-meter sculpture that a team of artists worked on for twelve months just… dissolve. The whole street glows orange. Your face is warm. People are cheering.
It’s not subtle. None of Las Fallas is subtle.
Getting There and Getting Around
Valencia has a decent airport (VLC) with flights from most major European cities. From Asia or the Americas, you’ll likely connect through Madrid or Barcelona. The airport metro runs to the center in about 25 minutes.
If you’re comparing flights, CheapOAir sometimes has good deals on European routes, though it’s worth checking a few sites.
During Fallas, much of the city center is closed to cars. This is fine — walking is better anyway, since the fallas are scattered across dozens of neighborhoods and half the fun is stumbling onto ones you didn’t know about. Valencia’s metro handles the crowds reasonably well. Wear shoes you don’t mind standing in for eight hours.
What to Eat (This Is Important)
You’re in the birthplace of paella. Not the tourist paella with chorizo and random seafood thrown in — real Valencian paella, which traditionally uses rabbit, chicken, green beans, and sometimes snails. Try it at a restaurant in El Palmar, near the Albufera lagoon, or in the Malvarrosa beach area. It’s a lunch dish, by the way. Valencians will judge you mildly for ordering paella at dinner.
The essential Fallas street food is bunyols de carabassa — pumpkin doughnuts served with thick hot chocolate. The stands are everywhere during the festival and the queues can be long, but they move fast. They’re best eaten immediately, still warm, which is probably obvious but worth saying.
The Honest Warnings Section
Some things the tourism board doesn’t emphasize:
Noise. I already mentioned the earplugs. I’m mentioning them again. Valencia during Fallas is relentlessly loud. Random firecrackers in the street at 3 AM. Not everyone finds this charming, especially after four days of it.
Accommodation prices. Hotels don’t just go up — they roughly triple. And they sell out months ahead. If budget matters, Sagunto and Gandía are both on the train line and have normal pricing, but you’ll lose the spontaneity of walking out your door into the festival. Trip.com is worth checking for apartments, since they sometimes list places the bigger platforms miss.
The fire is real. This sounds obvious, but the cremà involves actual massive bonfires in the middle of residential streets. The safety barriers exist for a reason. People get too close every year. Don’t be one of them. If you’re with kids, pick your viewing spot carefully and keep well behind the lines.
Crowds. The festival draws over two million visitors. The mascletà plaza, the cremà, the Ofrena route — these all get extremely packed. If you have mobility issues or anxiety in dense crowds, plan your viewing spots and arrive very early.
Your phone won’t work. Cell networks in the center get overwhelmed during major events, especially the cremà. Download offline maps. Agree on a meeting point with your group beforehand.
Before You Go
The main events of Las Fallas 2026 run March 15 to 19, but the mascletà starts on March 1 and community events begin even earlier. If you want the full experience, aim for at least March 17-19 to catch the Ofrena, the final mascletà, and the cremà.
For tours and skip-the-line access to some events, GetYourGuide has a few Fallas-specific options — I can’t vouch for specific tours but having a local guide for your first mascletà probably isn’t the worst idea.
UNESCO added Las Fallas to its Intangible Cultural Heritage list in 2016, which was overdue if anything. This is a festival that’s been running in some form since the 18th century, rooted in the carpenters’ tradition of burning wood scraps to mark the spring equinox and the feast of Saint Joseph.
The morning after the cremà, the streets are covered in ash and the air smells like smoke. Municipal crews are already sweeping up. A few charred metal frames are all that’s left where the fallas stood twelve hours earlier. It’s a weird feeling — like the whole thing might not have actually happened. Except your clothes still smell like gunpowder, and your ears are still ringing a little.
