valencia is the capital of the valencian autonomous community, one of several (okay, a lot) of subnational identities within spain. and though neither as loud nor as bitter as the basques or the catalans, valencianos are just as proud. and they have a lot to be proud of–las fallas, one of spain’s largest festivals–takes place annually here (and la tomatina is not far away, in the town of buñol). there also seems to be consensus (despite some catalan counter-claims to the contrary) that paella originated here. and paella is certainly a common sight in the city, from the traditional valenciana model (typically with rabbit, chicken, tomato, green beans, and rosemary) to black rice paella, vegetarian paella, and seafood paella. and you don’t only see paella in restaurants–you see the bomba rice for sale in markets, take-out boxes of the stuff, even the massive paella pans being hauled out into the streets and washed in the gutter (face up, no worries).
valencia’s regional identity is also rooted in the city’s primacy as a center of mediterranean trade in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries–a fact that still shows in the stunning stonework of the cathedral, la llotja (the silk exchange), el museo ceramica, and many other public / civic buildings. valencia’s old town is also (in places) lined with the finest, smoothest street stones i can ever recall seeing–on a bright day, you can actually see your reflection in the street. the center itself is very small. you can walk it from end to end in twenty minutes. but outside of the old town, the city sprawls haphazardly for miles, and you’d be hard-pressed to reach many sights by foot (even important ones like the city of arts and sciences). it’s interesting, then, that in comparison to madrid valencia feels so much quieter, calmer, and less packed with people (when, in fact, madrid has a lower population density). i guess it all depends on where you draw the lines.
i guess i’d say my only major complaints about valencia are concerned with transportation. for one thing, its train stations are bizarre. there are three, and none of them seems sure what exactly it’s doing. to make a long story short, only one of them is actually in the city center and that one can only be reached directly from one direction, mainly consigned to local, short-run trips. as a result, you often have to take the metro between the central train station and one of the other two (which is complicated by the fact that, despite being two stops away, you have to transfer between lines). woof. the second major issue is the beach, which is only accessible either by an hour or two of messing about with buses or by car, making reaching it a relative nuisance for non-locals. fortunately, valencia is populated by very kind and helpful people who will never give a tourist a hard time for speaking castellano. maybe you can even catch a ride.
…but seriously.
in the unlikely event that he ever reads this, thanks to the nameless tower records employee in boston who gave me the enduring pleasure that is loveless. as a sidenote, i hope you found a new job when that store, like the american record industry, bled out into the miasmic vortex of the internet. rest in peace, gentle megaconglomerates.
uh, but i digress. the topic at hand was madrid. because that’s where i was almost two months ago! fortunately for you lot, who have doubtless been waiting on the good word with bated breath, i kept notes during my travels. useful things. like, you know, “madrid metro really clean. could lick windows.” thanks, past me. one thing i will say for madrid, though: dry heat. after years in houston, the idea of a city that’s only blindingly oppressive for five hours each day was a tremendous relief. in fact, in old madrid, the streets are narrow enough to keep you in shadow nearly all the time. not so up past pinar de chamartin (where all the trendy MVRDV housing projects are). up there it’s all sun all the time. even your sweat can’t stay liquid for too long. you just end up a giant dusty salt-lick.
initially, i had this impression of a madrid as a mixture of paris and amsterdam–head shops next to the arc de triomphe and that sort of thing. while i’ll admit that it’s an inaccurate oversimplification, i do maintain that madrid has a charming informality and patchwork of shockingly-coifed gentry (a la netherlands) and an overwhelming array of national monuments (a la paris). it’s not quite to the point where you’re tripping over one famous thing after another, but god knows you’d be hard pressed even to see just the famous stuff in a week. for myself, i was content to wait in what was literally the longest line i’ve ever seen outside the prado on a free entry day. after a quick glance at google maps, i’d place it conservatively at a thousand meters long and three or four people wide. but, since entry was free, it really moved at a clip! the prado itself had security measures that would hardly be out of place at, say, a private presidential atomic space-shuttle launch. but then you get to see las meninas, so it’s all worth it, right?
there were a lot of great neighborhoods in madrid, each with its own vibe. my favorite was probably la latina, which is a hilly, tree-lined neighborhood with a really diverse mix of homes and small businesses. el centro, where my hostel was, had a terrifically downtempo nightlife and a really great variety of food. chueca has a reputation as a great place for small shops and the gay scene, but i didn’t really take to it that much. i also really enjoyed some of the outlier, working-class neighborhoods, like carabanchel and usera. these varied from dense, aged, grungy parts of the city to sparkling new social housing projects. but enough with the talking. we all know you just came for the photos. let’s do it.
well, after around two months of shuffling my feet, i’ve finished anna karenina. personally, my interest dropped off dramatically after about 200,000 words (or, you know, halfway) and i found it hard to come to terms with a resolution that i felt bore little or no relation to the substantive action of the book. but then again, i’m really not in a position to criticize leo tolstoy.
anyway, speaking of shuffling your feet, if you’re planning to do that, you should do it to the song “ripe” by givers, which is the only song i can bring to mind which begins with something resembling “chopsticks” and winds up in a kind of orgiastic explosion. (truthfully, though, how many can there be?)
i’m sorry to say i don’t have a raft of pictures soaked deep in the spanish sun to share with you (i’m waiting until i get access to a computer that has a screen larger than a postage stamp), but i’ll share a few just to be sociable. hope you’re all grand!
