The last time Karen and I were here - last year - we were taken aback that some of the food stalls had been replaced by tacky souvenir shops. In the first 15 minutes of traipsing around with Tom and Zena, I didn’t spot any, so started to hope that maybe the market had come to its senses and banned them, or they’d just not done well. But no, they’re still there. Maybe not as many, and some not quite as tacky, but they’re there for sure. As Zena said, maybe the traditional produce and deli sellers like the tourist shops because they generate traffic. Maybe. But how much produce are tourists going to buy? I think Zena was getting tired of my anti-tourist grousing, perhaps with just cause. We later saw a t-shirt in a shop window with the slogan, ‘I hate tourists.’ She said she was going to buy it for me. Karen and I may not be like the passengers on cruise ships in Venice who put virtually nothing into the local economy while ruining the place for the locals. But we’re tourists of a sort, of course. Still, it’s sad for us to see how much the increased tourist traffic is changing the character of this city.
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| Hopeful used bookseller |
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| Tom and Zena - note the recycling of broken statuary in wall |
After the market, we headed to the cathedral, which Tom and Zena planned to tour. Karen and I did it the first year we were here and have never been back inside. We may have gotten a tiny bit lost walking through the narrow twisting streets between Market Square and Plaza Reina (Queen’s Square) where the cathedral is. I left them there and rode home.
Karen prepared a lovely roast dinner for mid-afternoon. Tom and Zena came back for that, saying they’d enjoyed the cathedral tour. Entrance apparently includes a good audio guide now, which I don’t remember it doing 14 years ago.
The plan after dinner was that we’d walk over to the Russafa tube stop and put Tom and Zena on the train to the City of Arts & Sciences, while Karen and I rode bikes down and met them there. We got half a block from the Metro stop after dropping them off, looking for a bike station with bikes, when it started raining - egads! In Valencia!? - big fat drops. This was despite the Weather Channel having told us chances of rain were less than 5%. When it started coming down more heavily, we turned back and caught up with Tom and Zena on the platform.
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| City of Arts & Science: Hemisferic, Queen Sofia Arts Palace |
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| Queen Sofia Arts Palace |
I defy anyone to be unimpressed by the City of Arts & Sciences. It’s a marvel. And I think Tom and Zena were impressed - although, again, we might have oversold it a little. It was still raining when we got off the tram (it comes above ground before you get to the City.) But we hurried down to the covered walkway across from the Science Museum so didn’t get too wet. By the time we came to the end of it, the rain had let up. The sky was very dramatic. We spent over an hour there, Tom and I both clicking madly on our cameras. At the end of it, we tubed home.
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| City of Arts & Science |
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| City of Arts & Science: Queen Sofia Arts Palace |
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| Karen and Zena in front of Queen Sofia |
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| Insectoid opera hall: Queen Sofia Arts Palace |
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| Umbracle - Hemisferic and Science Museum |
Tuesday, 27 February 2024: A day of wandering, with a late lunch out to finish.
We headed first for the National Ceramics Museum, aka the Palace of the Marques of Two Waters. The building is the real attraction for me. It’s an ancient palace that was extensively rebuilt in the mid-18th century and includes incredibly ornate baroque exterior decorations, most notably the marble carvings of allegorical figures around the main entrance. The museum is also pretty impressive. It has a great collection of historical ceramicware, and some of the rooms have been restored to their gaudy 18th-century glory. Karen declined going through it again, and waited outside with her book. I went in with them.
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| Ceramics Museum: decorated late mediaeval bowl |
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| Ceramics Museum: part of carvings around main door |
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| Ceramics Museum: frescoes in small chapel |
Tom and Zena enjoyed it, I think, although Zena noted that the displays of ceramicware were done in a very old fashioned way, with too much dry information about provenance etc. and not enough social-historical context. I agree. As I told them, I found my eyes starting to resemble the endless plates and bowls: glazed over.
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| Ceramics Museum: ballroom |
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| Ceramics Museum: courtyard window |
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| Ceramics Museum from across the street |
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| Ceramics Museum: Red Room |
Next on the tour was the Rocas Museum, which we walked to through the old city - and got briefly lost. This is a museum Karen and I have visited a few times, but are happy to go back to (partly because it’s free). It’s where they store the floats and costumes used in the famous parade at Corpus Christi in May. Rocas refers to the floats, which are huge - so like boulders, I guess. Some are quite ancient, dating as far back as the 16th century. They’re on wheels and feature tableaus with religious figures - Christs, Marys, angels. Their ancient-ness, the fact that these things are still in use 500 years later, is impressive, and they’re quite picturesque, in a slightly tacky way. Their religious significance, of course, means nothing to heathens like us.
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| Corpus Museum: detail of carving on side of roca |
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| Corpus Museum: gigantes costume |
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| Corpus Museum: ancient roca |
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| Corpus Museum: roca |
After the Rocas, we looked briefly at the Torres de Serranos, one of two surviving gates to the mediaeval city walls. You can go right inside them and climb to the top, but by this time we were getting hungry so started the hike back to Ruzafa, where we were planning to get lunch. The walk took us through some of the shopping areas in the centre and Eixample. We walked briefly through the Colon Market before trudging on.
By the time we got to Tasqueta del Mercat, one of our favourite restaurants that we wanted them to experience, it was 2:30 or so and lunch was in full swing. The place was hopping. There were three or four loud tables over against the wall - 30- and 40-something workers from local businesses, we speculated. We got a less desirable table in the middle by the door. I’m not sure how impressed Tom and Zena were with the place. For their main, they ordered a rice dish of the day for two without asking what it was. I think they were expecting Valencian-style paella or arroz horno (baked rice), as I was. But it turned out to be a soup with rice floating in it. It was definitely not to my taste. The broth had a fishy taste. I don’t think Tom was that pleased either. Karen’s and my meat entrees were of the usual quality - good, not great, but excellent value. They were impressed by how small the final tab was, which they insisted on paying.
Other than a walk in the ‘hood in the evening, we were in for the day. The next day was a big one - a train trip to a nearby town.
Wednesday, 28 February 2024: The planned trip, at our suggestion, was to Xativa, a town in the Valencia Region, about an hour to the west. Karen and I went there years ago with Ralph Lutes to see the castle, a very evocative mediaeval defensive complex strung out along a narrow, rocky ridge. The town lies at the bottom of the ridge.
We walked over to Estacio del Nord and bought tickets on the commuter train that would take us there. We had been discussing the pronunciation of the place. In Spanish, the ‘x’ is usually a soft ‘huh’ sound, as in Mexico. But as we had discovered when researching the pronunciation of the Valencian neighbourhood of Eixample, in Valenciano, the ‘x’ is pronounced as in English ‘sh’. On the other hand, as Karen pointed out, the announcement of the Xativa tube stop on the Metro referred to it as ‘Hativa.’ So which was it? I asked the ticket seller: “‘Hativa’ or ‘Shativa?’” She smiled and said, in Spanish - and I actually understood her! - “It depends. In Castilian [Spanish] it’s ‘Hativa’, but in Valenciano, it’s ‘Shativa’.” So. Question answered.
We almost blew it by reading the line number beside the listing for the Xativa train on the Departures board (C2) as the platform number and going to the wrong place. Luckily, we caught our error in time and hurried over to the correct platform, where the train was sitting, already late getting away. The ride was uneventful and not terribly interesting, mostly through industrial lands, it seemed. There was some small-holding agriculture. I noticed one property with dwarf orange trees, almond trees and grapevines all in small adjacent patches.
We had agreed we’d take a cab up to the castle. You can walk it, but it takes 45 minutes or longer and it’s all uphill. We got there less than an hour after opening time and there weren’t many other visitors. There was also nobody at the ticket booth. It didn’t matter. Zena had bought our tickets online. To get into the museum displays and the castle grounds proper, we had to wave a barcode on our tickets at the reader on turnstiles, which we did.
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| Xativa Castle: small chapel |
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| Xativa Castle: gargoyle on chapel building |
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| Xativa Castle: view of lower castle (the structures on the hill) |
There is a quite good interpretive display with lots of information about how people lived and worked and fought in the late middle ages when this place was in its heyday. One of the interesting points it made was that, while castles in other parts of Europe were often as much residences as defensive structures, castles in Spain, including this one, were more about defences. The living quarters were small and not very comfortable apparently.
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| Xativa Castle: view of lower castle from upper |
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| Xativa Castle: view of lower castle from upper |
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| Xativa Castle: Karen climbing the upper castle |
The rest of the tour is mainly about climbing up to the top of “the upper castle” and admiring the views back along the ridge and out over the town on one side and the countryside on the other. Then you walk back down and do the same on the other side of the main entrance - climb to the top of “the [only slightly] lower castle” and admire the different views. We did, belatedly, lay hands on a brochure with some interpretive information about locations around the property, but it was mostly about the views. Luckily, the weather was fabulous: sunny and warm, not much wind.
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| Xativa Castle: Zena takes a break |
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| Xativa Castle: view of 'lower castle' from upper |
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| Xativa Castle: unfortified extension of ridge |
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| Xativa Castle: 'upper castle' and town below |
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| Xativa town from castle |
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| Xativa Castle: view of 'upper castle' from lower |
We ran into a snag when it came time to leave. We’d need a cab again, but how to get it? We walked down to where we’d been dropped off, thinking there might be a cab bringing somebody up that could take us back down. But there was nothing. A tourist bus does the trip between town and castle, but it only runs on Sundays at this time of year. We tried calling a cab company whose number was listed on a board at the bus shelter, but couldn’t get the call to go through. I finally went up and asked the ticket seller to call us a cab, which she readily agreed to do. But it took her three or four tries before she reached a cab company willing to send a car up for us - and it would take 20 to 25 minutes. So we waited. He eventually came and took us to the very pretty market square in town. Tom had read that this is where all the best restaurants are.
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| Xativa: market square |
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| Xativa: market square |
Trouble was, the market was closed, and so, as a result, were most of the restaurants. They might have stayed open in the tourist season, but I guess not in the dead of winter. While the others debated which of the slim selection of open restaurants to choose, I went back and took some pictures of the market square and the streets around it.
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| Xativa: market square |
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| Xativa: street off market square |
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| Xativa: street off market square, castle view |
We settled on a funny little place on a nearby pedestrian street with a reasonably priced menu del dia and tables outside. The guy who waited on us, and presumably owned the restaurant with his wife, eventually told us he was Bulgarian and had been in Spain for 23 years. When Zena ordered moussaka for her main, he said it was the best. He didn’t seem to have much if any English, but we mumbled along together. At a couple of points, he pulled up a chair and sat down with us to chat. There was nobody else in the restaurant.
The food was fine, nothing special, but decent value. For dessert, we all chose what he referred to as a traditional Bulgarian dish. When we later asked him what it was called, he said baklava, which is pretty much what we’d thought it was. I had to look at a map just now to remind myself where Bulgaria is. It’s on Greece’s eastern border, so I guess that’s why there is an overlap in the food culture.
We walked through the old town to the train station along some nice narrow streets and past some interesting street art. The train ride back to the city was slow and crowded.
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| Xativa: near market |
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| Xativa: near market |
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| Xativa: near market |
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| Xativa: near market |
We went out for a walk around the neighbourhood in the evening and found Madame Mim's, a vintage shop around the corner - one of many in Ruzafa - open. So we went in. It's...eccentric. There's even a small movie theatre set up at the rear of the shop.
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| Ruzafa: Madam Mim's |
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| Ruzafa: Madame Mim's |
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| Ruzafa: Madame Mim's |
Thursday, 29 February 2024: Tom and Zena had picked out two things to knock off their list today: St. Nicholas church, known for its baroque-era frescoes, and the Patriarca Museum (old master paintings) and Chapel (more baroque frescoes covering every inch of wall and ceiling).
Our morning was taken up dealing with the flare-up of an infection Zena had been fighting since before leaving home. She knew she needed another course of antibiotics. The question was how to get it at a reasonable cost. Interestingly, she found an online medical service, based in Italy, that claimed to be able to provide prescriptions that could be filled anywhere in the EU. Zena chose an inexpensive option, almost at random - only €35, I think - which turned out to be a doctor in Spain. She got a video-call appointment almost immediately and the doctor spoke very good English. We took the prescription she received by email to a pharmacy down the street and they agreed to fill it, though we’d have to come back for it later in the day.
After lunch-dinner - can’t remember what we ate - Tom and Zena and I set out for sight seeing. Karen opted again to stay home. We walked first to St. Nicholas, which is on the street of the toy soldiers in Carmen neighbourhood. (The street is actually called Carrer dels Cavallers, - Knights Street - but there’s a museum on it, not far from St. Nicholas, devoted to…toy soldiers.) I went in with them to St. Nicholas.
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| St. Nicholas church: main altar |
I thought Karen and I had been here years before, but none of it seemed familiar, other than the odd, anonymous entrance off the street, down a long corridor. Our earlier visit may have been before a major restoration and revamping of the way the site is presented. I was blown away by what we saw. The lighting is very atmospheric, the frescoes are eye-popping and the included audio guide is superb. I paid €7 as a senior, Tom and Zena €11 each. Even at €11, it seemed well worth it to me.
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| St. Nicholas church: main altar |
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| St. Nicholas church: fresco over main altar |
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| St. Nicholas church: nave ceiling frescoes |
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| St. Nicholas church: nave ceiling frescoes |
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| St. Nicholas church: view from end of nave |
We walked back towards the Patriarca Museum, passing through the Plaça de St. Nicolau (in Valencian), with its pretty yellow apartment building decorated with paintings in the bricked-over windows.
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| St. Nicholas Square |
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| Zena walking into St. Nicholas Square |
I remembered the Patriarca Museum as being dim and fusty, with some pretty good paintings, but overall slightly underwhelming, and the chapel as being rarely open. Karen and I were once chased out of the chapel by an irate priest when we wandered in, unchallenged, at a time it was apparently supposed to be closed to the public. In any case, I chose not to accompany them this time and grabbed a bike and rode home, picking up Zena’s prescription on the way.
In the evening, after Tom and Zena had napped, we went out to a sidewalk cafe around the corner on Literato Azorin and had a drink and some tapas. The garishly-lit Fallas churro stands were doing a brisk business and the street was almost as lively as on a weekend night. The Fallas lights were on on Literato Azorin and Cadis, but not on our street. We’re a little disappointed too that there’s no sign yet of them erecting the fallases at nearby street corners. I’m sure we saw them being built in past years much earlier than this.
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| Ruzafa: café society |
Friday, 1 March 2024: Today was beach day. The forecast was for very warm and sunny - albeit with possible “wind disruptions.” We hung around the apartment in the morning and set out about 1 o’clock for a restaurant down on the Gran Via, one we’d been to earlier in our stay, Turqueta. We got there a bit before 1:30 and, predictably, the place was virtually empty - and it’s a big restaurant. Most Spaniards think of lunch as starting at 2 or later.
We’d made an online reservation, requesting the ‘garden’ area, near a window with giant green plants. Despite the reservation and the fact that the place was mostly empty, they seated us at a very undesirable table near a serving station and not in the sunny area by the windows. It might technically have been part of the garden room, but wasn’t what we’d expected. They refused to seat us in the nice area when we asked, or pretended not to understand. Zena and Tom came in a little later. Zena, who can be a feisty one, decided to make an issue of it, and did manage to get us a slightly nicer table. Not a great start to the meal.
Still, it was a good meal, and a very pleasant setting - even though not the garden room - with very attentive wait staff. The menu del dia is €13.95 and includes appetiser, main and dessert or coffee. We ordered what turned out to be a very nice bottle of well-chilled white wine from a Spanish grower - can’t remember where it was from, and have no idea what the price was as Tom chose it. The total bill was a little over €80 for the four of us. Not bad. Tom had a burger, Zena something different, can’t remember. Karen and I, predictably, had pork. It was all as nicely prepared and tasty as the last time we were here. It’s part of a Spanish chain, Saona.
From the restaurant, we walked the rest of the way down to the Turia and showed them our two favourite bridges, the Bridge of the Sea and the Bridge of Flowers. They may have thought us a bit weird for having particular favourites among the many bridges over the former river, but the bridges are where we’ve spent some nice times baking in the sun, reading.
We directed them down to the Alameda subway stop, a short walk along the park. They were going to tube it, Karen and I would ride bikes. She and I had to walk a little longer than expected and eventually had to cross the river to find the nearest station with bikes.
We met on the beach promenade in front of the Hotel Neptu, and walked. The beach was as busy as we’ve seen it, I think. Lots of teenagers and twenty-somethings. Is it spring break week somewhere in Europe - or in multiple places? The beach volleyball courts were almost all in use, mostly by kids who hadn’t played much before by the looks of it. We stopped at one point for a rest, and then continued on down past the Malvarosa Hospital to a cafe-restaurant that still had sun on its terrace.
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| Beach: volleyball |
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| Beach: tired walkers |
We had a drink there in the waning sunlight and people watched. A guitarist played out on the beach. The Scandinavian couple at the next table broke out a game that looked like a cross between dice and dominoes. When the sun got too low to provide any real warmth, we walked back to Malvarosa, found the tram stop there and went home by tram and tube. Tom and Zena packed in the evening. They were leaving the next day to pick up a rental car out at the airport and drive north to Tarragona.
Saturday, 2 March 2024: Tom and Zena were up in good time, showered breakfasted and out the door before 9:30. They were taking the tube out to the airport. I offered to walk over to the Xativa stop with them and help with the bags, but they declined, saying it wasn’t necessary. They have pretty good rolling carry-on bags and fairly light backpacks, so they were fine for the 15-minute walk. Hasta luego, hermano y hermana! Safe travels.
Karen and I frittered away the rest of the day. I’d taken more than my usual number of photos during the week Tom and Zena were here - as I said at the beginning, I was back in tourist mode. Now I was mired in processing the keepers.
In the evening, we walked over to City Hall Square under the mistaken impression there were going to be fireworks there at 8. Ruzafa was in full weekend mode, the cafes and bars jammed and loud, and people crowding the streets. There didn’t seem to be any drift of people towards the centre as we expected, which puzzled us a bit. The same was true on the Gran Via and on Xativa St. when we got there. By the time we got to the square, it was clear nothing special was going on tonight. The cage in front of City Hall where they let off the mascletás, the daytime noise makers were set up ready for the next day, the firecrackers hanging from their frames. When we checked the Fallas events site on the web, it said Sunday night was the fireworks display at 8.
So we went home and watched TV.
Sunday, 3 March 2024: Sunday was pretty much a repeat of Saturday, except I did go for a run in the morning - my first since Tom and Zena arrived. And I went the full 5K. We did also have a catch-up video with Ms. Boyes who is now in Malaga, in an Airbnb for a few nights until she goes a little further down the coast to join her friends Jen and Andrew where they live in a small seaside village. She’ll be staying in their place for some time after they leave to go home to Canada.
In the evening, we set out again for City Hall to see the fireworks. The difference between Saturday and Sunday night couldn’t have been greater. The town appeared to be dead, and it didn’t get any livelier as we approached the centre. It was a repeat of the night before: clearly nothing was happening here. I checked the Fallas website again and this time noticed that it said the fireworks were at the Torres Serranos, not City Hall Square. We might have been able to hike over there before the fireworks ended, but we opted not to.
We went home and watched TV, and drank beer and wine instead.
