Given the current climate, Alicante’s Hogueras festival returns as a hopeful escape valve this year, and many performances are thankfully free, even as some pockets remain sparse.
This sentiment echoes in reflections on how the author experiences fire festivals. A quote from Fernando Sanchez Drago stands out: “My childhood is made up of memories of the land of Alicante, of gunpowder that becomes sparks, a fire-formed castle, a waterfall of light, a mane, and the midnight sun in a circle of wonder.”
The family lineage helps frame the scene. Elena Drago Carratala, daughter of a French industrial engineer, hailed from Alicante, while Roger Drago Letorey owned a local hydrocarbon plant that was eventually sold to CAMPSA. These roots tie the city’s industrial and festive identity together.
The author’s Rambla upbringing drew participation in the celebrations from a young age. Processions filled the streets toward the bullring, with officials and groups such as the Red Cross moving along the same public route. A poster announcing the bullfighting fair accompanied the parade, carried by a popular figure known as the “ramonet,” who proclaimed a fearless resolve about meeting danger head-on on that shared road.
Bonfires carried double joy: after school, and with a small concession for missed Wednesday afternoons, the young observer could attend on Saturdays, savoring the festival atmosphere as a child.
When the author pursued higher studies at CEU, the celebrations posed a challenge, as final exams scheduled for June 21–23 conflicted with San Juan parades and cavalry processions. The constant distractions made it harder to focus on work, adding to the sense of competing demands between study and tradition.
Despite its prime location, the Rambla fire pit sometimes faced practical limitations. One year it featured a double passage that allowed cars to pass underneath, while another year the builder’s ingenuity produced a pond with water and cardboard swans that could not be burned later—a reminder of the evolving, sometimes imperfect, festival infrastructure.
Prizes tended to be awarded to participants from Benalúa and Ciudad de Asís, with Ramon Marco and Remigio Soler noted as principal authors in the early rounds.
Memories of the Cabalgata del Foc and Coso Multicolor—the grand finale of the San Pedro festivities—faded with time, yet the author recalls the fourth-floor balconies of their home filled with family and friends, a circle of warmth and affection. Marita Gisbert, a Radio Alicante announcer, recorded and recounted stories that left a lasting imprint.
High above on the Esplanade, palm trees bore colored bulbs that lent the area a hypnotic glow. Between the logs, from late December through the 29th, a large, zigzag firework would culminate at the kiosk, a spectacle crafted under the guidance of Jaime Fuster.
Over the years, involvement deepened in the districts that contributed to the local librets—the early form of communal play in the Ploma i Ferro barracks, introduced by a local journalist in 1979. Alfredo Aracil earned the first prize for both presentation and literary content. That same year, Terete Caturla Puebla, later Bellea del Foc, was chosen as the downstairs neighbor, marking a personal milestone in the thread of festival history.
Auctions of paintings emerged as a philanthropic tradition, with local artists generously donating works to raise funds. Among the names associated with these efforts were Gaston Castello, Ruiz Morante, Lorenzo Caruana, and others, each contributing to the cultural tapestry of the events. This culture of giving deepened the communal sense surrounding the Hogueras season.
More recent collaborations included librets tied to Diputación Renfe, highlighting railway history within the Alicante province. The Bellea del Foc selection jury was led by Nuria Terol, who also helped oversee the broader festival proceedings, including the private bonfires’ organization, underscoring the evolving governance of the celebrations.
In sum, the outline of a remarkable personality—Thomas Valcarceland—stands out in remembrance. A final reflection comes from a close friend, the singer-songwriter Alberto Cortez. At the narrator’s request, Cortez wrote that it is not strange for these lands to glow on the nit de Sant Joan, where the mists ascend and the tongues of fire stretch toward the stars. In that moment, the Levantine night itself seems to take center stage, inviting awe and shared memory across generations. [Cultural remembrance attribution]