Girl in Valencia #2: Valencia and I

Valencia.

I didn't know her. I didn't know how she looked, or what she had to offer. Paella was on my mind, and that was about it.

Ciudad de Las Artes y Las Ciencias, they called her. City of the Arts and the Sciences. A mouthful, but it made sense when the first thing that greeted me as the bus pulled into Valencia was a blue, glass-and-steel structure shaped like a whale. It was the entrance to the Oceanarium, which represented the scientific facade of the city.

But I wasn't on a scientific mission here. I was curious about Valencia. It couldn't just be the paella that made people visit her, surely? No, no, Frederic had assured me. She serves the best horchata and agua Valencia in the whole of Spain!

And so I came to discover that horchata is a creamy concoction made of tigernuts, water and sugar, while agua Valencia is a twist on the traditional Sangria, made with white wine instead of red.

Frederic was a knowledgeable chap, but he had neglected to impart upon me Valencia's quirky little secrets, of which I blissfully discovered while savouring violet-flavoured ice-cream from the parlour at the corner of Carrer de la Pau and Plaza de la Reina:

- her scent is of warm, caramelised almond pastries wafting through the streets dotted with crowd-pleasing horchaterias;
- her looks are of sophisticated architecture intersped with a touch of vintage;
- her religion dates back to the medieval times of which her cathedral is symbolic;
- her people speak a smatter of Valencian, Castillian, Catalonian, and English (particularly her very, very hot cab drivers who wear black t-shirts and faded jeans to work);
- her nights, ah, her nights! are spent bar-hopping under avant garde artworks, musing over a culture that is neither Castillian nor Catalonian but a confluence of their whimsical traits.

 

This, is how Valencia and I got acquainted.