1 post tagged “valencia”
In theory, Valencia had very little room to start out as traumatic as Madrid. Madrid turned out to be fantastic, but it was still an inauspicious beginning. But let us remember how we woke up in a dead panic on Friday morning. By the time we were sitting at our gate waiting, the girls were still unable to sustain a normal heart rate. I think I was fine, but they were still skittish. I thought it was hilarious. I am insensitive.
So while we got to Valencia in one piece, and not very delayed at all, it did not start off with a bang or lots of energy. It might have been the crazy beginning. It might have been the early hour. Yeah. By the time we got into a cab and started driving into the city, I was starting to think things were very bleak. The town kind of reminded me of a semi-industrial wasteland, and I hadn't spotted ocean. I wanted ocean!
We arrived at the street where our hotel was located -- because our cabby couldn't be bothered to drive us closer even though there was road! -- and dragged our luggage to a gorgeous haven of air conditioning and a semblance of civilization. I can't help that I hold so much store in good hotels.
This hotel tried to upset me from the start. While it was nice, it didn't want to give us a room at 10:00 in the morning. The concierge tried to get us to leave our luggage and go exploring, but we opted to camp out in the lobby. I'm sure the girls were doing it out of exhaustion, but I did it to be belligerent. We did leave for a spell to have breakfast -- where it cost us an arm and a leg, but I stocked up on cereal, fruit, yoghurt, packaged cakes and jams..yes, I am a hoarder! -- but were back to loitering like riff raff asap. We were bedraggled, we were broken. I fell asleep. We were in a room by 11:20. And there we stayed until dinner time. The happy room:
It was not nearly as cute as the previous hotel, but it had beds. It had pillows. It had AC. It let me take a nap. It had my love for three days.
When we went out, we had no plan. It's not like we had a plan for Madrid, but at least we had a map. There was no map for Valencia. My only plan was to find the water. And stay there. But that was a day away. For now...where the hell were we going to find grub?
We found it two blocks away. I usually take the approach of finding a crowded place. This place was crowded. But it had foul gummy paella, oily squid and the craziest batshit french fries known to man. Why? Because they were drenched with a bastardized version of sriracha and...mayo? They didn't have the common decency to put it on the side. Noooo. They just screwed with our carbs by covering everything with foul sauce!
The balm for our wounded souls post-dinner? Gelato, of course! Like everywhere else, this gelato was quite nice. However, the guy in the store, not so much. I came off as very beleaguered for having to deal with us. :) Pobre cito.
With sugar in our bellies, we started wandering. I figured that Valencia looked quite extensive from the mini map I jacked from the concierge at our hotel. Bwah! I was wrong. But we did find a mini mart that yielded what? Oh yes. English language girl magazines! And soda. And passing cameraderie with other American tourists. A hoot!
Now that I've learned this business of embedding, a slideshow proper of the random buildings I took pictures of, but can barely identify. Forgive the night pictures. I determined that there was a lot of me walking about snapping pictures while not entirely sober:
Valencia, as far as I could tell, was shaping up to be a bit charming, kind of quiet, and easy to walk. Not too bad. Better than the morning, anyway. I mean, when we walked to the Plaza de la Reina, I determined from the loud, obnoxious tourists, that it was a good town for getting drunk and being happy. And then something awkward. We walked beyond the Basilica...following the masses...only to find ourselves at a Mass. Yes. This is what lemming behavior got us. It was interesting to watch, because there appeared to be some sort of idol or something on a paladin-like structure. Lots of people were chanting at the same time...and as a non-Catholic, I was impressed by the synchronicity. It's the same feeling I get when I find myself in a Buddhist temple listening to the monks. But the Buddhist devotees are not nearly as good as chanting. Unsettling. The only thing that helped me recover from the unsettling? The promise of a good restaurant menu...suckling pig! However, for the day, we were done. Relatively uneventful. Which is how a day ought to be.
...I forgot a shameful (somewhat), yet awesome incident. Our night actually ended with us trying to find Chinese takeout...because I swore that I'd see a Chinese restaurant not far from the hotel. I was wrong. We walked circles, and managed to spot the chic stores and financial area, but no takeout. So we trudged onward to McDonald's instead (this is the shameful bit), where I found delicious chicken nuggets. Like better than stateside. And that's also where we discovered the belligerent woman who was definitely cursing out someone (to herself) as she marched down the street. It was amazing. She didn't even pay attention to any of us. She walked a straight path and we got out of dodge. We knew crazy when we saw it.
Day two. Ah, the day did not start until well into lunch. And for lunch, I had a plan. After being denied Chinese yesterday, I made a front desk person tell me where I could find a place and we went. We didn't get lost. We just found it. Let me tell you, it involved lots of paging through two reference books, and still, the meal selections were a serious crapshoot. There was chicken and pineapple, lemon chicken, wontons, har gao, chicken stir fry, and a lot of random other bits I wasn't sure about. Oh! And my first encounter with flat spring rolls. It reminded me of a hot pocket, now that I think about it. Just odd. I wonder if it's because the Spanish people reject properly round rolls? It just doesn't make sense! Meh. Not a bad lunch. They gave us ice cream. Good enough.
After lunch? The beach! Can I tell you that WB and J thought that the metro would be a bad idea? They thought it would be more prudent to take the bus. They are silly. We tried several buses at one station, and none of them let anyone on. It made no sense. I made them go on the metro. And we persevered. And we got there in one piece. I win!
The first thing I notice is that the boardwalk appeared to have restaurants that were serving food well after normal lunch hours. I felt cheated. Did beach tourists get better food treatment? I longed for the five star hotel I was eyeing on the internet. It was somewhere on this beach!
The second thing I noticed was a topless person taking a shower on the beach. I thought it was a guy. Nope. A chick. It was a topless beach. I did not do my research. I still have not done my research. Perhaps all beaches in Valencia are topless? Eh. I made note of this and tried to scope out seats under an umbrella. We succeeded. And we didn't have to pay...probably because half the day was long gone. I was still happy.
The beauty of a beach is the ability to lay about and not think about anything. I had my Sansa. I had my camera. There was water and soft sand. WB will contend that the sand was nothing compared to that which she has experienced in the Bahamas. I was glad that this was the first real beach I'd been on in well over a year. Hell, the last time I was near a body of water I was willing to swim in, I was in Vegas. That doesn't count! So I thought this was wonderful. I had time to read my Cosmo. *sigh*
The beach excursion wound down with us standing on the beach and staring into the water. WB pointed out that we were very much old women now, because only old people do what we did. And we also got to puzzle over a fella making some mad attempt at capoeira not ten feet from us. Another group of guys were watching him as well. We thought they were going to beat the crap out of him. I hope it would just be an awesome dance off. No such luck in either direction.
We went back and prepared to find some dinner. LA LOLA! The restaurant with the suckling pig! It's hidden in a back alley and we thought it sketchy until we caught an eyeful of the decor. I don't want to pin a name on it...but there was a photo of a woman weeing on the wall inside the restaurant. I don't think that's avant garde. Just ew.
Dinner was yummmmm. We were the first ones in entire joint, and were sad that no one else was eating dinner there. They were such a nice group, we thought. Why no love? Yeah, 8:30 was way too early for dinner. It filled up by the time we were winding down and a bunch of people were waiting for empty tables. For good reason. It was a great dinner. It was my first time eating kangaroo, and it was gooooooooood. Sweet. Tender. Not gamey. Just a gastronomic delight. Mmmm. I crave it a little right now. I also sampled both of my companions' meals as well, and I was still happiest with my selection. WB's risotto was excellent, confirming my decision to hold risotto in higher regard than any paella I had or ever would eat. It was intensely satisfying, and my best Spanish meal to date.
We ambled home with more gelato in our hands...only to find ourselves at McDonald's again for a midnight snack. I got to argue over patatas fritas versus patatas deluxe, and WB figured out not only what sweet and sour sauce was in Spain, but also that it cost 0,50 euros to get extra sauce beyond the first packet. Lame.
Our stomachs rebelled at our decisions to eat more. But we did. And I got us a later checkout time. And we felt a little better about going to bed without packing. This might have also been the night where I tortured the girls with the random porno channel on our television. What was regular television by day was apparently hardcore porn at night. I was sitting in the other direction, so I was less at the mercy of the dirty, but I was punishing the girls and making them watch it. I can't recall why now...but fuck. Who the hell? How the hell? That is not something you need to be running across by accident when you're just hoping to find Family Guy en espanol. WB paid me back with the Mika video. That bitch.
Day three. So inauspicious. We did pack slowly. We did lay about as long as possible, because we knew we had no plan. We left our luggage with the concierge and started walking with two simple maps. I had some idea about wanting to see the Mercado Central, and that was all. What followed was a walk through the ghetto and into the wood. To the botanical gardens we did stumble. I rather enjoyed it, but we walked waaaay too far for no reason.
I will note again the randomness of running across our waitress from the Chinese restaurant along one of these roads. She apparently lives in one of the apartment buildings we passed, and she sped away quite fast on a moped before I could snap her picture and note the bizarre coincidence.
And now, the garden. Where we sat. We walked. We stopped. We enjoyed the shade.
It was a nice finish to Valencia. Except it didn't end at the garden!
We went and stumbled into a bookstore where we found some respite in the AC. NO STORES ARE OPEN ON SUNDAYS! Because for some reason the Spanish like their families and want to spend time with them? Such a baffling notion. So we found books. This is normally a good thing, and this time was no exception. We had a terrible and amusing time translating spanish children's books for each other and sucking royally at Where's Waldo.
We then had to find dinner, and actually shamefully and not a little disconcertingly, we ended up in McDonald's. Again. Where we might have enjoyed a simple if ignominious meal at our domestic staple. Except I don't eat nearly this much McDonald's at home.
Anyways [sic.] This is where we encountered the gross teenage couple making out hot and heavy on the top floor of the establishment. I, again luckily, was turned away. It was just a show for the other two. :D Needless to say, it was disgusting. I could tell this just by their expressions alone. It was confirmed by the knowledge that they didn't come up for air for over half an hour and someone had to rebutton their mini skirt when they stood up.
Did anyone else vomit a little in their mouth? I did.
This was my lasting impression of Valencia. Because then we were sitting in an airport. We were delayed. I had to have another experience with Barcelona airport, and we had to experience an outrageous taxi stand. So much more. A long night ahead. Ah, part three.
Have I killed you yet with too many slideshows? I hope so. There are so fewer pictures in the Barcelona installment. You are lucky!
When we went out, we had no plan. It's not like we had a plan for Madrid, but at least we had a map. There was no map for Valencia. My only plan was to find the water. And stay there. But that was a day away. For now...where the hell were we going to find grub?
We found it two blocks away. I usually take the approach of finding a crowded place. This place was crowded. But it had foul gummy paella, oily squid and the craziest batshit french fries known to man. Why? Because they were drenched with a bastardized version of sriracha and...mayo? They didn't have the common decency to put it on the side. Noooo. They just screwed with our carbs by covering everything with foul sauce!
The balm for our wounded souls post-dinner? Gelato, of course! Like everywhere else, this gelato was quite nice. However, the guy in the store, not so much. I came off as very beleaguered for having to deal with us. :) Pobre cito.
With sugar in our bellies, we started wandering. I figured that Valencia looked quite extensive from the mini map I jacked from the concierge at our hotel. Bwah! I was wrong. But we did find a mini mart that yielded what? Oh yes. English language girl magazines! And soda. And passing cameraderie with other American tourists. A hoot!
Now that I've learned this business of embedding, a slideshow proper of the random buildings I took pictures of, but can barely identify. Forgive the night pictures. I determined that there was a lot of me walking about snapping pictures while not entirely sober:
Valencia, as far as I could tell, was shaping up to be a bit charming, kind of quiet, and easy to walk. Not too bad. Better than the morning, anyway. I mean, when we walked to the Plaza de la Reina, I determined from the loud, obnoxious tourists, that it was a good town for getting drunk and being happy. And then something awkward. We walked beyond the Basilica...following the masses...only to find ourselves at a Mass. Yes. This is what lemming behavior got us. It was interesting to watch, because there appeared to be some sort of idol or something on a paladin-like structure. Lots of people were chanting at the same time...and as a non-Catholic, I was impressed by the synchronicity. It's the same feeling I get when I find myself in a Buddhist temple listening to the monks. But the Buddhist devotees are not nearly as good as chanting. Unsettling. The only thing that helped me recover from the unsettling? The promise of a good restaurant menu...suckling pig! However, for the day, we were done. Relatively uneventful. Which is how a day ought to be.
...I forgot a shameful (somewhat), yet awesome incident. Our night actually ended with us trying to find Chinese takeout...because I swore that I'd see a Chinese restaurant not far from the hotel. I was wrong. We walked circles, and managed to spot the chic stores and financial area, but no takeout. So we trudged onward to McDonald's instead (this is the shameful bit), where I found delicious chicken nuggets. Like better than stateside. And that's also where we discovered the belligerent woman who was definitely cursing out someone (to herself) as she marched down the street. It was amazing. She didn't even pay attention to any of us. She walked a straight path and we got out of dodge. We knew crazy when we saw it.
Day two. Ah, the day did not start until well into lunch. And for lunch, I had a plan. After being denied Chinese yesterday, I made a front desk person tell me where I could find a place and we went. We didn't get lost. We just found it. Let me tell you, it involved lots of paging through two reference books, and still, the meal selections were a serious crapshoot. There was chicken and pineapple, lemon chicken, wontons, har gao, chicken stir fry, and a lot of random other bits I wasn't sure about. Oh! And my first encounter with flat spring rolls. It reminded me of a hot pocket, now that I think about it. Just odd. I wonder if it's because the Spanish people reject properly round rolls? It just doesn't make sense! Meh. Not a bad lunch. They gave us ice cream. Good enough.
After lunch? The beach! Can I tell you that WB and J thought that the metro would be a bad idea? They thought it would be more prudent to take the bus. They are silly. We tried several buses at one station, and none of them let anyone on. It made no sense. I made them go on the metro. And we persevered. And we got there in one piece. I win!
The first thing I notice is that the boardwalk appeared to have restaurants that were serving food well after normal lunch hours. I felt cheated. Did beach tourists get better food treatment? I longed for the five star hotel I was eyeing on the internet. It was somewhere on this beach!
The second thing I noticed was a topless person taking a shower on the beach. I thought it was a guy. Nope. A chick. It was a topless beach. I did not do my research. I still have not done my research. Perhaps all beaches in Valencia are topless? Eh. I made note of this and tried to scope out seats under an umbrella. We succeeded. And we didn't have to pay...probably because half the day was long gone. I was still happy.
The beauty of a beach is the ability to lay about and not think about anything. I had my Sansa. I had my camera. There was water and soft sand. WB will contend that the sand was nothing compared to that which she has experienced in the Bahamas. I was glad that this was the first real beach I'd been on in well over a year. Hell, the last time I was near a body of water I was willing to swim in, I was in Vegas. That doesn't count! So I thought this was wonderful. I had time to read my Cosmo. *sigh*
The beach excursion wound down with us standing on the beach and staring into the water. WB pointed out that we were very much old women now, because only old people do what we did. And we also got to puzzle over a fella making some mad attempt at capoeira not ten feet from us. Another group of guys were watching him as well. We thought they were going to beat the crap out of him. I hope it would just be an awesome dance off. No such luck in either direction.
We went back and prepared to find some dinner. LA LOLA! The restaurant with the suckling pig! It's hidden in a back alley and we thought it sketchy until we caught an eyeful of the decor. I don't want to pin a name on it...but there was a photo of a woman weeing on the wall inside the restaurant. I don't think that's avant garde. Just ew.
Dinner was yummmmm. We were the first ones in entire joint, and were sad that no one else was eating dinner there. They were such a nice group, we thought. Why no love? Yeah, 8:30 was way too early for dinner. It filled up by the time we were winding down and a bunch of people were waiting for empty tables. For good reason. It was a great dinner. It was my first time eating kangaroo, and it was gooooooooood. Sweet. Tender. Not gamey. Just a gastronomic delight. Mmmm. I crave it a little right now. I also sampled both of my companions' meals as well, and I was still happiest with my selection. WB's risotto was excellent, confirming my decision to hold risotto in higher regard than any paella I had or ever would eat. It was intensely satisfying, and my best Spanish meal to date.
We ambled home with more gelato in our hands...only to find ourselves at McDonald's again for a midnight snack. I got to argue over patatas fritas versus patatas deluxe, and WB figured out not only what sweet and sour sauce was in Spain, but also that it cost 0,50 euros to get extra sauce beyond the first packet. Lame.
Our stomachs rebelled at our decisions to eat more. But we did. And I got us a later checkout time. And we felt a little better about going to bed without packing. This might have also been the night where I tortured the girls with the random porno channel on our television. What was regular television by day was apparently hardcore porn at night. I was sitting in the other direction, so I was less at the mercy of the dirty, but I was punishing the girls and making them watch it. I can't recall why now...but fuck. Who the hell? How the hell? That is not something you need to be running across by accident when you're just hoping to find Family Guy en espanol. WB paid me back with the Mika video. That bitch.
Day three. So inauspicious. We did pack slowly. We did lay about as long as possible, because we knew we had no plan. We left our luggage with the concierge and started walking with two simple maps. I had some idea about wanting to see the Mercado Central, and that was all. What followed was a walk through the ghetto and into the wood. To the botanical gardens we did stumble. I rather enjoyed it, but we walked waaaay too far for no reason.
I will note again the randomness of running across our waitress from the Chinese restaurant along one of these roads. She apparently lives in one of the apartment buildings we passed, and she sped away quite fast on a moped before I could snap her picture and note the bizarre coincidence.
And now, the garden. Where we sat. We walked. We stopped. We enjoyed the shade.
It was a nice finish to Valencia. Except it didn't end at the garden!
We went and stumbled into a bookstore where we found some respite in the AC. NO STORES ARE OPEN ON SUNDAYS! Because for some reason the Spanish like their families and want to spend time with them? Such a baffling notion. So we found books. This is normally a good thing, and this time was no exception. We had a terrible and amusing time translating spanish children's books for each other and sucking royally at Where's Waldo.
We then had to find dinner, and actually shamefully and not a little disconcertingly, we ended up in McDonald's. Again. Where we might have enjoyed a simple if ignominious meal at our domestic staple. Except I don't eat nearly this much McDonald's at home.
Anyways [sic.] This is where we encountered the gross teenage couple making out hot and heavy on the top floor of the establishment. I, again luckily, was turned away. It was just a show for the other two. :D Needless to say, it was disgusting. I could tell this just by their expressions alone. It was confirmed by the knowledge that they didn't come up for air for over half an hour and someone had to rebutton their mini skirt when they stood up.
Did anyone else vomit a little in their mouth? I did.
This was my lasting impression of Valencia. Because then we were sitting in an airport. We were delayed. I had to have another experience with Barcelona airport, and we had to experience an outrageous taxi stand. So much more. A long night ahead. Ah, part three.
Have I killed you yet with too many slideshows? I hope so. There are so fewer pictures in the Barcelona installment. You are lucky!
