Valencia was full of experiences this weekend---good and bad. After a 4 hour trip by bus, in what was probably the most uncomfortable bus I've ever been in, we arrived in Valencia at 5am. I had planned out the way to the beach (30min walk, then the tram) so that we could watch the sunrise first thing in the morning. When we arrived to the beach, it was quite cloudy (I was just sure that instead of spending the weekend in "Sunny Valencia" as its known, it would be "Cloudy Valencia"...lucky I was proved wrong. After settling down on the beach, the others took a nap to finish the night of sleeping while I took my camera for some adventures. It was my first time to the Mediterranean coast, so I wanted to make sure I took home plenty of memories with me.
After everyone woke up, we headed to La Ciudad de las Artes y las Ciencias de Valencia--a complex of buildings, one of which is Oceanografik, Europe's largest aquarium. Of course I was dyeing of excitement because, if you didn't already know, my childhood dream was to become a whale trainer (something I blame on "Free Willy" and "Krats Kreatures")...and I'm still convinced that if at some point in my future I decide pharmacy is not for me, I'm moving to Orlando to play with whales. We had to use the tram and the bus to get to the aquarium, and this was the first time I realized that Valencia's public transport system left much to be desired. After asking a salesmen at the ticket office if I could use the same ticket for the bus and the tram (he said yes and was the rudest person I have encountered in Spain), the bus driver told us we couldn't us it. So then after figuring out how much it would cost, we made our way to the aquarium. I met some Americans in line for tickets who were studying in Toledo for 6 weeks; they were from Michigan and Ohio (I thought I had recognized a Minnesotan accent, but I guess I was a little off). It was nice to talk to some native speakers for a few minutes. The aquarium was tons of fun, and we got to watch a dolphin show as well. In all honesty, it wasn't anything I couldn't have done in the States, but it was still a blast (and I got some amazing pictures in the mean time).
After the aquarium, we made our way back to the center of Valencia, and I had my first paella experience. I've been waiting yeeearrs to have a REAL paella experience. And it was absolutely delicious. I had expected paella valenciana to be made with seafood, but surprisingly the most typical paella from Valencia is with beans and chicken. It tasted better than I had imagined and definitely reminded me of how much saffron I need to bring back from Spain (since its sooo expensive in the US). I also tasted the iconic drink of Valenica, Agua de Valencia, which is something along the lines of orange juice, champagne, gin and vodka. Deliciosa. I went to check into my hostel while the others got settled on the beach. They wanted to sleep on the beach, and my better judgement had told me not to. Plus some advice from relatives and friends...particularly from Carrie, my best friend who studied in Sevilla for a semester. She told me that Valencia wasn't that safe of a city, so it confirmed my previous decision. Luckily, nothing happened to my friends while they slept on the beach, but for the safety of mind (comfort and shower), it was well worth the 20 bucks.
Then we went to party on the beach and tried to visit the center to watch Flamenco in La Plaza de la Virgen....but unfortunatley, at that moment we had our second bad encounter with the tram system. We had missed the last tram to the center (because the schedules are so poorly shown at the stations), tried to take another line that brought us close enough to the center, but we ended up at a dead end and went back to where we started, with not enough time to make it to the show. We decided to stay on the beach and have a good time, which ended up being plenty of fun on its own. This is when I realized that Valencia is the most romantic city, by night, that I have ever been to. Palm trees, warm breezes, spanish guitar, soft lighting, the smell of gypsies roasting corn on the cob, and being surrounded my crowds murmurring slowly in Spanish. One great thing that I'll always appreciate about South(ern) Spain is how much slower they speak. I can't help but think about the slowness in which Southerners from the US speak as compared to the Northerners. In Valencia, they are much easier to understand, and now I can't wait to visit the real Southern Spain, Andalucia, in August.
Valencia also recognizes the language Valenciano, which is a dialect of Catalan, a language very simlar to Spanish and French and gets most recognition in Barcelona. I was interested to see that most every street sign, advertisement, public notice, and menu includes Valenciano, while I heard no one speaking it. Igor and I both asked taxi drivers on separate occasions if anyone from Valencia actually spoke Valenciano. They said that everyone speaks Spanish and everyone understands Valenciano, but neither of them knew what percentage actually speaks it. In Spain, keeping the distinct languages of each region is very important, but I can't imagine keeping a language alive if no one speaks it..seems fruitless in my opinion.
Saturday night we spent partying on the beaches, and Sunday was spent for sightseeing. Zuza and myself went on a tour of the Cathedral, which houses what many consider to be The Holy Grail. It was incredibly intersting to me to be in the prescence of something that Jesus himself was even believed to have touched. Absolutely amazing. We also trekked through El Barrio del Carmen, but as it was Sunday at siesta time...there was little to see. This area is the culture, bohemian center of the youthful Valencia at night, but during the day seems much like a ghost town. For the rest of the day, we relaxed and sunbathed on the beach. I was surprised to see that it was topless beach (not nude...just topless) and that any girl from the age of 2 to 82 feels comfortable going topless. It was definitely an experience for me, but it was easy to get used to. The Spanish seem to be very comfortable with themselves, and toplessness seems to be something to you do out of comfort and not sexuality. After a nice walk along the very crowded beaches, I browsed the gypsy market along the beach and enjoyed some paella del marisco (seafood paella), since it seems to be the most "ideal paella" in the States. It was absolutely delicious, even though I had to enjoy it by myself...no one else cared for seafood enough to join me in the restaurant. Even though I'm unafraid to dine alone, even in the States, it was fairly obvious that this is not common practice in Spain (who dine mostly to converse with friends and family) as everyone seemed to think I was crazy. However, I wasn't about to let some sensitive stomach'ed Europeans keep me from my paella del marisco experience.
The last and most frustrating experience with Valencia's public transport system was Sunday evening. We missed the last tram to the center, although I had asked a gentleman on the tram if it would pass through Pont de Fusta (our stop) and he said yes. Unfortunately we ended up at a station where we had no idea where we were, with only an hour before our bus departure. Luckily, I had written down two numbers for taxis in Valencia. I called one, asked for two taxis for seven people, and only one showed up. After frantically deciding what to do with the remaining four after the other three had headed off to the train station, I called the other taxi number for a second. Ester (one of the Hungarian girls) and Oliwer (Polish guy) wanted to ask a stranger to take us to the station in his car, but once again my better judgement stepped in to say "Nooo I prefer if we didn't." I think both of them were extremely agitated with me and thought we would miss the bus by the time the second cab came. I told him we were in a hurry to catch a bus and asked if there was plenty of time, and he assured me that there was. Luckily, we made it to the bus station with about 30 minutes to spare, but the whole public transport experience in Valencia definitely made me realize that over-preparation is nothing to scoff at....Everyone was extremely thankful for my attention to detail and preparedness on this trip. My new motto for travelling abroad is "When in doubt, write it out"....
*Just a side note: Most Europeans eat pizza with ketchup. They were all quite surprised when I told them that I had never seen anyone eat pizza like that. Gross. I guess pizza is more famous in America for a reason.....
