Lorraine Williamson
What was once a magical night of bonfires and renewal has left behind a sobering trail of destruction. Across Spain, beaches that glittered under fireworks and flame during the annual San Juan festivities were transformed into makeshift dumps by morning — their sands strewn with bottles, cans, plastic, and worse.
San Juan, rooted in ancient solstice rites, has long marked the symbolic start of summer — a celebration of light, fire and water. But in recent years, this deeply spiritual festival has been overtaken by chaotic revelry. In 2025, once again, the morning-after scenes were more apocalyptic than celebratory.
In A Coruña, an estimated 150,000 revellers descended on Riazor and Orzán beaches. Barcelona hosted more than 70,000 across its coastline, while cities like Málaga and Valencia saw the festivities roll on until dawn, fuelled by fireworks, beach barbecues, and free-flowing alcohol.
What was left behind tells a very different story.
“An urban pigsty”
By sunrise, Spain’s emergency clean-up teams were already deployed. In Málaga, over 200 sanitation workers and 75 vehicles began operations before 6.00 am. In Barcelona, entire neighbourhoods like Barceloneta awoke to scenes that residents described as an “urban pigsty.”
Mountains of rubbish — from plastic cups to broken furniture — littered the sands. Rubbish bins were full before midnight. Public toilets, where available, were overwhelmed. In many areas, bonfire ash mixed with shattered glass and melted plastic.
Despite efforts to ban glass bottles, fireworks, and unauthorised bonfires in cities like Alicante and Elche, compliance was low and enforcement difficult. Even additional investment in clean-up and safety services, like in Valencia, couldn’t prevent the fallout.
A tradition at breaking point
At its heart, San Juan is about purification — casting old regrets into the fire and leaping over flames to welcome a fresh start. But those symbolic gestures now feel hollow against the backdrop of environmental damage.
Locals and environmental groups are sounding the alarm. As tourism grows and crowds swell, the festival has become a magnet for irresponsible behaviour. For many residents, the joy of San Juan is being buried — quite literally — under tonnes of waste.
Time to rethink the celebration?
Is San Juan still a celebration of nature and community, or has it become an annual exercise in negligence? Local authorities across Spain are beginning to reconsider. Fines for littering, curfews, fire bans, and glass restrictions are all on the table — but critics say these measures only go so far without public responsibility.
Calls are growing for a cultural shift: one that reclaims San Juan’s original meaning while adapting it to modern realities. If nothing changes, this iconic midsummer tradition could lose both its soul and its place in the hearts of the people it once united.
Reclaiming San Juan’s spirit
San Juan is a reminder of how closely tradition is tied to place. But when that place is disrespected — when beaches become bins — something vital is lost. For this festival to thrive, it must evolve. Not through bans alone, but through education, shared responsibility, and a return to its roots. Spain deserves a San Juan that leaves behind memories, not mess.