I just returned from my first adventure outside of Italy, a weekend in Valencia, Spain, where I battled two unfortunate aspects of my personality: my dislike for the chaos of travel and for dislike the chaos of crowds, two things that I confronted often in the third largest city in Spain. My lack of knowledge in regards to public transit is comical, which absolutely shoots my anxiety level off the radar when navigating it alone. BUT, to James', Marks' and my own surprise, I not only managed the train from Florence to Pisa, the Pisa airport, and the metro from the Valencia airport to my hotel by myself (even changing lines... the horror!) , with no hiccups and even arriving early. I may've had a little help though, namely James' bulleted directions with metro stops, directions, landmarks, and verbal explanation and my 4 years of Spanish Language courses. I will say that I was still pretty proud of myself when I got all checked-in before Mark arrived to meet me. James was with FSU in the Pyrenees last week (tough life) and he wasn't expected back in Valencia until 7 or so, a few hours after my flight landed. Indeed, he arrived early and missed us at the hotel by a mere 5 minutes, he made it up to my hotel room to discover that I, too, had made it early. My good pal Mark who is in Valencia studying with Virginia this semester offered to babysit with a few Spanish favorites and nice walking tour of the city until James "arrived".
Churros rank in the top 5 of my list of favorite Spanish foods. Who doesn't love deep-fried dough covered in sugar and dipped in chocolate sauce with a glass of nut milk to swallow them down with? Mark snapped a nice photo of me in my eating glory with a caption that summarizes our outing together: "forced ashton to do spanish things: drink horchata while eating churros and chocolate next to a cathedral." James found us in the plaza, conveniently located directly across from the one of the numerous Valencian McDonalds. From there, I changed hands for leisurely walk around town and Chinese dinner with James. Truly, the Spanish eat dinner very late. Way too late for this growling-stomach-at-6PM girl. But keeping with the culture, we ate dinner on Thursday night around 11, only to find the pushiest Chinese waitress. Cultural anomaly? James and I laughed every time she approached our table with her outslaught of questions. Everyone knows how much I love Chinese food and this being only my second chinese meal in the month and a half since I've been here, she couldn't have ruined the mood.
Friday, James took me on a historical walking tour of Valencia. As the Republican capital in their defeat during the 1930s Spanish Civil War, Franco and his forces hit Valencia hard. There are few "old" buildings as compared to Florence, even with Valencia's ancient history, passing hands from the Romans to the Arabians and back to the Spanards, but the city's architecture is completely modern. Curved, wavey and sleak designed buildings litter the city center, hotels, and especially the city of Arts and Sciences, all as a result of Franco's destruction. Late Friday afternoon, we indulged in another favorite Spanish tradition: Tapas. Many of the local restaurants have "Caña y tapa" (a small beer and tapas dish) from about 6:30-11. Loving this idea, I insisted that we "tapas hop" through the city. I think we managed to hit 4 different spots, each with prime people watching locations from their outdoor seating, before we finally made it to James' favorite dinner spot: the kebab and shawarma guy. Needless to say, the meal has become one of my favorites as well, combining spice, chicken, cheese and veggies all for a very cheap price. Until now, I had been too nervous to try the Kabab stop across the street from my apartment in Florence. That was my first stop off the train from Pisa last night. Another thing Valencia has done right: the public bike system. Each person can pay a flat annual fee for use of the numerous public bike locations throughout the city. For each trip, the first 30 mins are free then for additional time it charges a small fee on your credit card. James and Sam have memberships, but I posed a bit of an inconvenience. So, James and I attempted to manuver all variations to get us both on a bike for the long walk home. Miserable failure. Definitely only a 1-person bike unless you're like an acrobat or something.
Saturday, we decided to head to the beach. With James' skill of the metro and the tram system, we made it out for a beautiful but windy afternoon to catch some sun, get in the waves, and watch the regata in front of us. Valencia's beaches hosted the 2009 America's Cup and the wind was definitely available. I have never been a fan of sand, even since my childhood (many funny stories about that). Valencian beaches have a very fine sand and with an afternoon of wind, it was impossible to keep my towel as pristine as usual. Because of the sandy bottom, the water looks a lot like Atlantic water as compared to the crystal clear, rock bottom Meditteranean waters of Cinque Terre or Portofino on the Italian side. When NC Public Schools used to have a Fall Break, we always took a trip to the beach for the same reasons I loved the beach Saturday: the temperature is perfect, the water is still warm, and there are few other beach goers. After the beach, we quickly changed and grabbed another kabab before heading to the Granada v. Valencia futbol game. Because I played soccer for so many years, any excuse to get me to a European match will work, especially 15 Euro tickets in a prime location. We cheered and chanted the Valencians all the way to a 1-0 victory, although we nearly missed the only goal in the 3rd minute. The ball hit the back of the net as we walked out of the corridor to find our seats. By chance, we ran into another Davidson friend, Morgan, before the game outside the stadium and decided to meet up with her, Mark, and some of their friends after the game. They hadn't eaten dinner yet, and to our surprise, they wanted kababs! James and I refrained from our 3rd kabab in 24 hours, but we did enjoy the company of some Davidson and Americans alike. By the time we began the trek back, we had just missed the closing of the metro at 11:30, so James hailed yet another form of public transportation, a taxi.
The City of Arts and Sciences hosted the Paella Festival all weekend and after a few failed attempts at making it over there, we decided to go Sunday afternoon before my flight. With no convenient metro stop, we waited for my 7th form of public transportation, the city bus. (Yeah, count them: Train, Plane, Subway, Tram, Bike, Taxi, and Bus... how's that for conquering fears?) Unfortunately, we weren't the only people headed to the festival and James and I squished onto the bus (luckily airconditioned) for the 15 minute ride. Once there, we bought a few paella tickets that could be exchanged at any of the vendors for a plate. Crowds, another one of my weaknesses, squeezed through the narrow lane between vendors as James and I tried to choose different paellas. We managed to get 3 different kinds with varying amounts of cow tongue, seafood, rabbit as protein. We found a quiet place on the steps and enjoyed the people watching. From there, we walked to find the nearest (but by no means close) metro stop so that we could ride to the airport together. Once there, we enjoyed a Coca-Cola Regular and a Coca-Cola Light together before I headed out on my Ryanair flight. Luckily, I was 20 minutes early both ways as compared to James' 3 hour catastrophe last weekend. I made it back to Florence only to find an empty apartment. After living with my Aunt and Uncle in Boston this summer and their 2-week beach vacation which left me alone in their big ol' house, I knew that I could never live alone. All I wanted to do was hear about my roommates' trip to Oktoberfest in Munich and Caroline and Keena's trip to Madrid. Luckily, we have this beautiful thing called Skype, where James kept me company while I ate dinner and I caught up with my Mom and Dad afterward, getting out all the talking that I had desired.
I hope everyone in the States is enjoying the beautiful weather that October brings. In Florence, we've had an unusually warm September and October with temperatures in the upper 80s everyday and continuing to be forecasted. I told James last night that I will not complain about an 87 degree day, even if my closet lacks a summer variety, because come November when I'm shivering in my boots, I will want nothing more than a warm Florentine day. I loaded another batch of photos from the Grape Festival and Valencia. We head to Venice on Friday as a program so I'll have plenty to fill y'all in next weekend. Ciao!
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