Valencia

6 December, 13

The girls had a puente, or bridge. That means they had a 4 day weekend, which means we gotta GO! Of course, we extended it another day, which they call an aqueduct. A big part of living in Spain is the ability to go to just about anywhere in Europe relatively easily and cheaply. I say relatively, because it is a little costlier and troublesome than we thought, but still very much worth the effort.

As a family we decided to go to Paris. The last time Susan and I were in Paris was for our honeymoon 18 years ago. I am not sure if Paris is the same, but I know we have changed quite a bit. My first experience in Paris was magnificent. The food was great. The city sparkled. The people were nice. Yep, the people were nice. I remember that I went out one morning for bread and ended up part of a protest march for or against something. It was hard to tell, because everybody kept speaking in French, but we marched in solidarity.

Both girls have been learning French. Katherine has been dying to order four croissants. Elizabeth’s hero is Coco Chanel. We were all a little giddy about the trip.

Susan did her usual magic and found some good tickets out of Valencia for half the price of Alicante. That meant an extra hour of travel to the airport, but we also got to see another great Spanish city. Our flight was for Friday evening, so we decided to leave school a little early on Thursday and take a day and a half to check out Valencia. Good decision.

It took us two hours to get to Valencia, and another two hours to find our way to the hotel. By now we are used to driving in the rabbit warrens Spaniards call roads, but Valencia takes it to another level. I kept looking for the Mad Hatter. We eventually got lost in the middle and just stopped at what happened to be some pretty important government building. We knew that because four cops started staring us down. This presented a great opportunity for some cultural interaction. It was basically like parking on the White House lawn and asking Secret Service for directions. I got out of the car and tried to remember not to put my hands in my pockets, while maintaining a large “I come in peace!” grin. Luckily for us, the cops in Valencia are very accommodating. We told them our predicament, and they were very kind. After several attempts to explain how to get to our hotel, the lead cop just gave up and basically said, “You can’t get there from here.” So he flagged down a police car, and we got a police escort right to the front door of our hotel. Now that is service. Try THAT at the White House!

When I say “hotel”, I really mean a retrofitted building, with nothing on the outside that would lead the uninitiated into thinking it was a place for overnight guests. We walked up to a big wooden door, circa 1250 AD, and rang the bell. I felt like a peasant walking up to the castle to ask for alms. The attendant buzzed us in. (Everybody has electronic locks here. It’s really weird.) Our flat was pretty modern, another commercial for Ikea, complete with a kitchen. It only cost about 50€, which is pretty decent.

I had to go park the car alone, which scared the crap out of me. Susan is my map, so I am lost without her. She has navigational skills that would make an general jealous, but I sallied forth like a brave soldier. When I found the parking garage, it was like descending into the bowels of Hell itself. It was dark and I had to go down two floors.  I kept thinking I was in a scene of “Fight Club”. I finally emerged and made it back to the hotel unscathed. Then Susan decided she wanted us to cruise the modern part of the city and find something to eat there. So I had to re-enter the abyss and retrieve the car. Evidently no fights were scheduled for that night, as I once again escaped with nary a scratch.

Valencia is the third largest city in Spain, behind Madrid and Barcelona. They went whole hog with the real estate boom of the last decade, and consequently have fallen further than other places as well. The benefits will outweigh the costs eventually, however. Valencia has an ultra-modern downtown, something that looks like a scene from the Jetsons. I am not much of a fan for modern architecture, but even I was impressed. We drove around the new sections and found a parking spot. I didn’t even get a ticket!

We were all famished, so we stopped at the first decent looking place we could find. Valencia is the birthplace of paella, so naturally I was looking for that. We ate at El Pavo Laqueado, which is literally translated, The Lacquered Duck. It was a sit-down Chinese restaurant with no buffet. They specialized in Peking Duck; hence the name. We got a fixed meal plan for 4 people. It was spectacular. A server came by and hand-rolled what we called Chinese burritos of duck and fresh cucumber and onion strips, with a peanut sauce. Then they brought out some beef. Then some seafood. Then some spare ribs. Then fried rice. The food just kept coming. After dinner, we went back to the flat and crashed.

Valencia has a lot to offer the tourist. Beautiful beaches, great food, Formula One races, old cathedrals, the largest aquarium in Europe, and much more. We didn’t have much time, so we shelved the aquarium and beach for a subsequent trip and opted for the historical parts of Valencia instead. It was a great decision.

The old city center is definitely geared towards tourists, meaning the food is way over-priced. We ate breakfast there for about 12€ each, which included a croissant, Valencian orange juice that is so strong it could cure cancer, a pastry and a hot drink. The girls both got sugar bombs. Murcia tends more towards the savory end of the gustatory spectrum. Evidently Valencia has a sweet tooth. After breakfast, we shopped at some of the tourist stalls and paid too much for a couple of trinkets. We also found a vintage clothing store that sold Levi’s Button-fly 501 jeans. I tried on a couple of pairs, but my family wouldn’t let me buy them. Evidently they are not as cool now as they were, when I was a teenager.

Next on the agenda was a tour of the Metropolitan Cathedral, which dates from 1238 and claims to house the Holy Grail, or cup that Jesus used at the Last Supper. Interestingly, the cup has been carbon dated to between 300BC and 100AD. It has been the official cup used by popes for several hundred years. The cathedral also houses the left arm of St. Vincent, who was martyred in 304AD. Aside from the strange and macabre, the cathedral is full of beautiful paintings and some magnificent architecture. Elizabeth, Katherine and I also climbed the bell tower and took some incredible photos of the city.

After the Cathedral, we visited La Lonja de la Seda, another building that was full of some cool geometric patterns that reminded me of the video game, Q-Bert.

We finally ate paella at La Ruía, a restaurant just off the plaza. It had that look and feel of a family-owned place that has catered to tourists for generations. The paella was excellent, though, so who cares? This one was chicken and rabbit. After eating, we dashed off to the airport to catch our plane to Paris!