To walk through the streets of Paiporta is to see nature at its most vicious.
Everywhere, there is chaos in this town. Lives have been ripped apart, turned upside down and ended.
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You can’t drive into Paiporta, a suburb about 4 miles to the southwest of Valencia, so we cover the final mile by foot. For most of the walk, we pass past fruit groves. The sun is getting warmer.
It could be a normal day. Except then you arrive in the town, and normality has gone.
We turn a corner and find a road that has been wholly blocked by a wall of cars, thrown together.
To the side, a family is wading through their garage, which is under three feet of water.
All around is a bizarre medley of debris. Most of it is coated in thick, sticky mud that clings to everything – the road, your clothes and all these chunks of everyday life that have been swept away and mixed together.
So there is a child’s shoe, a beer chiller, a jumper, a corkscrew and a lump of an engine block. All of them muddled, muddy and sad.
“We have to clean,” says the woman, staring at the endless water in her garage. Her son is wading in, pulling out possessions.
There were three motorbikes in here, two of them new. All of them are ruined. Everything in sight is ruined. But they know they are lucky.
Down the road, on the other side of the wall of cars, they knew a couple who were in their car when the flood water came, with shocking speed.
They both died – two of forty people who are known to have died in this town so far.
The damage is utterly random. A car lies, absurdly, on top of a children’s slide. Paving stones lie in a pile while front doors flap open, offering a view of homes that have been engulfed by water and mud.
Outside, there are people trying to push the water away, using brooms and shovels.
Down the road, we visit Catarroja, normally a pretty town that welcomes plenty of tourists.
Now the main high street is covered in pebbles and as we drive in, we have to gingerly avoid holes in the road, industrial dustbins that have rolled into the street, and a long line of crumpled vehicles.
Everywhere we go, in fact, it is the cars that are the symbol of these floods – tossed around carelessly, thrown into gardens, into a playground, into rivers and streams, on top of each other and into houses.
They are smashed, upturned, filthy, and broken, and the cars have, in turn, broken so much else. When the water rushed through these towns, it picked them up and used them as weapons.
A woman walks past, pleading with me to tell the world that they have no water and no food. Everything has been cut off and the shops are shut.
Half an hour later, I see her and a friend walking along the street with a shopping trolley loaded with food, arguing with other people. They have, quite clearly, helped themselves to what they needed.
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Across the road, half-wedged in a tree, is a boat. We are a decent way from the sea, and nobody seems to know whose boat it is, or where it came from.
But there it is, a symbol of how this flood created such instant discordant chaos.
We meet Veronica, walking along with her two children. She is taking them to a grandparent, whose house is out of town.
She tells me that they had precious little warning before the flood hit – merely a request earlier in the day to take children home from school because there was a storm on the way.
Veronica, who is taking her children out of town
“One minute there was just rain and then there was two metres of water,” she says.
“It was very scary. People have been hurt and some people have died. Now we have to help each other to repair this town.”
She looks around. “It will take a long time.”
There are happier stories, tales of survival and courage. Three young girls come to talk to us in the street, showing us a video of their father rescuing a man from the water at the very moment their road had turned into a churning river (VIDEO AT TOP).
The man, a local called Luis, is being swept along, desperate to survive.
Their father, leaning out of the window of the family’s apartment, has thrown down a rope and is clinging on.
As we watch, you can hear the screams of the man and the encouraging shouts of the onlookers.
Slowly, slowly, he is pulled out of the water and clambers over a balcony to safety.
The girls burst with pride; their father, clearly, saved this man’s life. In the midst of this horror, there are shards of valour and joy.