Vacationing in Valencia

Our sojourn in Sitges was short and sweet; but like all good things they have to come to an end. Valencia was our next destination, which meant travelling back to Barcelona to get the 3.5-hour intercity train to Valencia. As the train pulled into Valencia-Estaciò Del Nord, we gathered our bags and I noticed a purse tucked underneath my bag. I quickly checked to see if the owner could be identified. But alas, the French Canadian woman could not be found. I handed in the purse, which seemed to be devoid of any money but contained credit cards and identification.

After the good Samaritan act, we were on our way, traversing through the streets of Valencia on the hunt to find our accommodation.
We arrived at our hotel address but the reception was in another building about a half a block away. With our backpacks strapped to us, we traipsed over and back, and were rewarded with a spacious and modern abode for the next two days.

We settled into the room just in time for episode three of Jason’s Lost World. Yep, it's a tally and a sitcom. This time, he was panicked about losing his day backpack. He was convinced he had left it at a bar that we had briefly stopped at to hydrate. False alarm. His bag was in the hotel the whole time.

Continuing the European dinner tradition, we moseyed down the street until we stumbled upon a restaurant that was offering a menu del día (menu of the day) 3-set course for 20€. When we walked in, there was barely a soul. Then all of a sudden, once we were seated and ordered, the restaurant started to fill up. There was an Italian guy outside who acted as the restaurant spruiker. Oddly he reminded us of a friend, Craig Ellis, in both his style and mannerisms (Craig, I’m sure you would have gotten on well with your doppelgänger. We thought the dinner may never end. The plates kept coming. The entrée alone consisted of three different dishes. We looked at each other at the end of the entrée and thought we may not make it through to the end but we would give it our best try. Two hours later, we rolled out the restaurant and stumbled down the road through the old town.

Next morning, before we could even leave the hotel, Jason sat on his glasses and broke them. Maybe if he had held back on that final dessert last night there may have been less pressure on the tiny metal frames. But never fear, MacGyver (aka Ricky) to the rescue. A little bit of gaffer tape can go a long way!

While we were waiting for Jason’s new glasses to be dispensed, we wandered around town. We seem to attract odd characters along our adventures. including an elderly woman who commenced talking about the Holy Trinity and how we needed to read the Bible every day. We both looked at each other and thought this might go down the path of her telling us to repent or something. In the end, we went along with it, at least it was good to practise our listening skills. She thought we said we were Italian at first. Italiano, Australiano. Sounds all the same I suppose.

After several days of grazing the Spanish streets like heifers in calf, we felt a detox day was in order. We’d stored enough fat in reserve to last the next 24 hours … most definitely. But we soon broke the hunger strike with a kebab from an old man with hairy ears. I was so tempted to jump the counter and attack his ears with some Sue Ismiel’s Nads wax strips. Jason got worried when he turned the rotisserie on to heat up the meat. “Should we run? Food poisoning?”, he said. But we had just ordered? We couldn't just do a runner. It turned out to be one of the best kebabs, from a man with the hairiest ears we ever seen.

In the afternoon, we decided to climb the 15th-Century Torres de Quart, built as part of the fortification of the city. I’ve climbed temples and stupas around the world but for some reason I got half way up a narrow set of steps leading to the top of the guard tower and I couldn't go further. Instead I turned back to where an American woman was pacing up and down and also too frightened to ascend the staircase. Later, we stumbled upon the contemporary culture museum, which was housed within an historic building. This was less exhilarating!

The next morning, we continued our Ulysses adventures wandering the streets and soaking in the Valencia vibe. At one point, I saw a guy walking down the street with his shirt open and what looked like an exposed blister. Monkeypox?

Next stop: Madrid.Read more