Valencia.  For a long time I didn´t give the beautiful city perched on the Mediterranean coast a second thought because I was used to hearing Valenciana, which is the quaint little mining town next to my beloved Guanajuato.  But what´s in a name?  We all deserve to be heard and truly known rather than judged by our titles and appearances.  So I gave Valencia a chance.  Jessica, Katie and I had to catch our flight to Malta from the Valencia airport so we decided to spend a few days there before heading out.

On May 29, after leaving the last official class of the year, I began packing my bag.  The weather has been crazy due to the drastic climate change, that some people refuse to believe, so I was struggling with what to pack for the beach vacation that we had been planning since the beginning of March. Jeans, shorts, tank tops, sweaters, high heels, tennis shoes, flip flops... every combination possible went in the bag.  But I still wasn´t prepared for the adventure that was waiting for us.

After a five hour bus ride halfway across the country... yes, only five hours and you have gone from the center of Spain to the coast, faster still in a car... we found ourselves in the gorgeous town that provides you with museums, the beach and an international airport.  The Manchegan rain followed us but we made the best of it by snapping photos of the Plaza de Toros, climbing to the top of the cathedral´s bell tower and ducking into cozy cafes each time the sky opened up. Francesco, our Sicilian friend that we met in Mallorca, was visiting his father so we got to meet up with him for the afternoon.  He had to catch the nine hour boat ride back to the Balearic Islands that night but we were excited to have one last goodbye.

We sat down to munch on some tapas outside of a restaurant when a group of British footballers stumbled up looking for someone to help them order food.  They pulled a table up to ours and soon the street was filled with English, to the annoyance of everyone sitting around us.  We had a few communication problems because of the different accents that were being thrown around.  They were from all over the UK and had very thick accents, but we managed to get by.  They didn´t speak any Spanish and when Jess, Katie and I needed to say something just between us we could use our language skills to go over their heads.  I felt like a mom must before her child knows how to spell... ¨n-a-p t-i-m-e¨.

The next day we let ourselves sleep in, because that is what you do on vacation, and then got ready to see La Ciudad de las Artes y las Ciencias. We stopped by a cafe near our hostel first and were joined by two older men.  Vicente was a lawyer and Julio imported silver from Asia. We welcomed their company and they bought our food.  They were really gung ho about practicing their English but they quickly realized that they appeared much more intelligent when they spoke in Spanish. 

The City of Arts and Sciences was magnificent.  The architecture looked like something out of a sci-fi comic book; it was impossible to understand how someone could come up with a design like that... and then make it reality.  We didn´t go into any of the museums because the entrance fee was quite high and we were only at the beginning of our trip.  We thought it was wise to enjoy the city from the outside... where it was free.

Vicente and Julio told us about a restaurant that overlooks the beach and they invited us to meet them there so that we could see another part of the city.  Vicente showed up wearing a screenprinted T-shirt with a photo of him and Bruce Springstein on it, a Bruce Springstein concert hoodie and a backpack filled with memorabelia such as an autographed record, photos that he took when he creeped at the hotel where Bruce was staying and a concert T-shirt that he bought in 1984 and had never been washed.  He said that he was friends with his wife, he knew the body guards and chatted quite a bit with the piano player.  He and Bruce are on a first name basis. Hmmmm.

The restaurant was, appropriately, called Vivr Sin Dormir (live without sleeping) and we all sat on the porch, drank Agua de Valencia and watched the sun set.  Later they showed us a place, Gabana, that was popular with the Italians.  We said goodbye to the old guys,  plopped ourselves down on some of the chairs and the boys came swarming.  I got to pretend to speak Italian with the little bit that I know and they guessed right away what our job was. The teachers in all of us came out as we over simplified and enunciated our English.  The girls and I have gotten used to using simple sentences and no contractions which is just par for the course when speaking to someone who is learning but hasn´t dominated a second language.  Sometimes, though, we even talk to each other like that, ¨You go get ready, I wait you!¨  Through a beautiful blend of Spanish, Italian and English... and miming... we convinced them all to join us for a sunset swim, fully clothed, in the Mediterranean before we left for dinner and warm pajamas with plans to meet them the next day. They thought we were crazy.

The next day we woke up at noon, we never get to sleep in as teachers, and headed to the beach.  Café con leche is always our first stop and I am going to need that Spanish tradition in Tennessee.  The bus ride took about half an hour and just as we got to the beach the clouds were rolling in.  We headed in the direction of Gabana but had to duck in to a restaurant when the floods came.  We have the worst luck with weather!  We asked the waiter for big plastic bags and got decked out in blue garbage bag dresses and white grocery store bag hats. Americans are smart.  Everyone just stared and snickered but we knew they were jealous that they hadn´t done it first.  What we do lack, though, is sense of direction and we realized that we had been going in the wrong direction to get to the Italians.  So, plastic wrapped and ready, we set out on the two kilometer hike that would have only taken two minutes had we turned right instead of left.

After chatting with them for a while we set off in search of food.  We stumbled upon a tiny Italian restaurant with noone in it and warm air that was heavy with deliciousness. Fazzoli´s is good, free breadsticks are the bomb, but nothing beats real Italian cooking.  We had ordered our food to go but snapped out of it and stayed there for a while relishing in the flavors and smells that were coming out of the kitchen.  I even tried a piece of meat... it had tons of spices, Rosemary, Thyme, Oregano, and my taste buds got the best of me.  But only for a bite and then I stuck with the garlic bread and olives.  The people who worked there were so nice and funny.  We took photos of our food and they thought we were hilarious.  There was a bar that you could look over and watch them prepare the food and I was intrigued by all of the ingredients... one chef, with a hairstyle I will call ¨electrocuted¨, kept holding up the different bottles and spices and asking if we wanted a photo.  Everyone who worked there was Italian and they had a map of Italy on the wall with their pictures on it to show where they came from.  The owner asked if I wanted to work there.  I said YES and I want to eat, work and be a fat Italiana.  But they don´t have a map of the United States.

Valencia is a city that I would live in.  If I cannot find a decent job that gives me insurance in the States I will come back Spain.  I never thought I would say that but with the current economic situation in my country and the fact that I have health care here... it doesn´t seem like a rash decision.  I hate that I am far from my family and friends.  However I think I could stay for a year longer, with a better paying job, travel less, save more money and then be comfy enough to head home. 

We´ll see where the plan goes... Jess reviewed with me the plans that I had spouted off since the beginning of the trip, over a total of four days, and I think there were about seven different variations.  The list only continued to grow as we moved the chaos of our vacation to Malta.

xox cr