Seeing my old friend Elena in Valencia played a significant factor when Pallavi and I decided to come to Spain before heading back to India. Elena is just as gracious a host today as she was the first time I visited. She had prepared the house just like an AirBNB - there was a map, a loaded metro card, a tourist book, and various welcome signs all over the house.
While Elena went to work, we happily went and explored Valencia. Valencia is such a cute 'small' town of 2 million people. It seems so incredibly different in terms of culture and feel than Barcelona. Valencia always feels 'brighter.' Maybe that is because it is sunny and 'warm' all of the time. We froze when the sun went down in Barcelona. In Valencia, the sun goes down and it is still a 'balmy' 15 degrees. No hats and gloves needed here people!
However, there isn't that much to do in Valencia. At least not in terms of historical sights, etc. Valencia is more of an experience. Apparently, I do not remember much about any of Spain from my previous visit; however, only after visiting it again do I realize that Elena took me on the best of the best that Valencia has to offer. I really must remember Valencia Take 2!
We went to see the beach and watched some guy continue to get stung by jellyfish as he fruitless and stupidly tried to bathe himself in the Mediterranean. Dead jellyfish littered the beach! It's not like the stings should have surprised him, at least not continually. Yet, this guy got stung, ran away swearing, and then re-approached the ocean again, only to get stung. Dumb!
Pallavi and I also explored the old city. Did you know that Valencia played a key role in the silk trade? Or that it has a bull fighting ring? I did not! Later, Elena took us out on Friday night to a meetup in the old city. We walked around, slightly lost, looking for the venue. I asked Elena, "isn't this your city? You've lived here your whole life. Shouldn't you know your way around?" To which she replied in a hushed tone, "This area isn't my area. I don't like it. The streets are narrow and you can't see around the corner." My response, "the streets are wider, it doesn't smell like pee, and it's well lit. It's an amazing old city!" Oh, perspective!
We found the venue, which was an English-language/cooking school. Great concept and well targeted in terms of the meetup group. Elena's meetup is a group of people who want to speak English. If I ever re-learn Spanish, I must participate in similar groups to this one. It's a great way to practice. The night continued to a few different pubs and a bad club, but at least now we know the nightlife in Valencia.
Elena also spent her Saturday coordinating a lovely day out to the 'country' for us. She first took us walking around Valencia's state-of-the-art Arts and Science Center. As we walked around, warmed by the sun, hardly needing a light sweater, Elena pointed out a political gathering of some kind. The previous day, Pallavi had asked Elena the name of the Spanish president. He isn't discussed much on the news! Everybody knows the German chancellor, the British PM, the French president, and the Italian president who is always sleeping with lots of women; however, nobody knows the Spanish president. We went down to the basement and when we came back up, Elena's husband told us that the Spanish president was in that building. That building! The one with no security. The building we had just casually gone downstairs and used the bathroom in. We could have taken God knows what into the bathroom with us and left without anybody knowing. Sure there were a few guards with guns situations all around the park, but those are only a few people! No wonder nobody knows who the Spanish president is. Even his own people know that nobody cares enough about him to require additional security. I kid. Mostly. But still! Where was the security?! Even the Australian PM has more security than this guy!
We then went a whole 16 kms outside of Valencia to a town called El Palmar, but it was like stepping into another world. Just 500 meters from the sea, exists a landlocked freshwater lagoon that is over 2500 hectares large. This area is filled with traditional one-room, A-frame, thatch-covered traditional Valencian fishing homes. Additionally, every historical sign is written in both Valencian and Spanish. Personally, I could barely tell which from which, so I'm not sure how much of a difference actually exists between the two. Also, I asked Elena if she speaks Valencian. No! What kind of Valencian is she. She claims it's because her parents came from outside of Valencia (although in the same province), which is why not only does she not speak Valencian, but she also doesn't have a single one of the traditional costumes from the area. Jorge, on the other hand, showed me that indeed Valencian culture is alive and well in his family, where he and his parents all speak Valencian. Whew!
We went out for a huge traditional lunch with rice that comes out on a pan the size of your entire over. The key to eating said rice? Scraping the pan to get the carmelization off of the bottom. Elena had then arranged for us to go on a boat ride at sunset around the lagoon. It was such a perfect end to a perfect trip.
Next stop, Madrid for a day for our last full day backpacking.
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