New Year in Valencia

30 December 2004 Departure is set for the 30th and the meeting point is the Alitalia check-in at Malpensa. We leave 40 minutes late due to a series of problems during boarding. At take-off I'm once again amazed by the efficiency of the Alitalia staff, who during taxiing, as if we were on a bus, rather than racing at almost 500 km/h with the landing gear practically off the ground, decide to make some passengers change seats so that two couples can travel next to each other. A pretty reckless manoeuvre, luckily no one falls. This time we get a truly unique captain, with a mega "lisp" who entertains us for the whole flight, being particularly enthusiastic when we fly over the French Riviera, pointing out Saint Tropez in particular (who knows how he managed to recognise it, if only we'd flown over Paris....).

Our captain then informs us that the flight will be only 1 hour and 18 minutes (such precision), rather than 2 hours, because we have very strong tailwinds...olé, if we left late at least we make up for it...The commander at the end wishes us a happy new year and invites us to go wild at the big New Year's Eve party. Legend!! The airport is about 8 km from the centre, but it takes us an hour to get out, because we can't find the right exit where you catch the bus (maybe because you had to go down to the floor below???) and two hours to reach the hostel. The hostel, named "Home", is incorporated into a church in the Barrio del Carmen, the old historic centre.

It's kitsch and very cute, with walls painted in all colours, furnished with great taste with little pieces of furniture and very particular armchairs, various very strange things hung here and there as decorative complements, but above all it's spread over 3 floors with no lift. The most particular thing is the chandeliers, all different from one another: in the kitchen one with a chef's hat, on the stairs one with a pair of white tights hanging down filled with balls acting as counterweights, in the corridor one with wings hung and the words "love is in the air", on the walls ones with smiling mouths, chickens closed by plastic semicircles with a photo of a belly in the background, fake soap bubbles, etc. Given the time we managed to arrive, we immediately look for a place for dinner, convinced that the homeland of tapas and especially the paella region can offer a lot.

We're starving, just for a change, let's say we're 7 bottomless pits and that anyone would do well to be afraid of approaching us at the table. On the first evening we don't feel much like wandering around and we go somewhat at random into a restaurant that promises us a 12-euro menu complete with an attached photograph. Unfortunately it doesn't have the chequered tablecloth required by our standards, but it seems nice.....We should have known that restaurants with photographed menus are usually disastrous, but we were too hungry and too little in the mood to search, so let's draw a pitying veil over the unwatchable and inedible dinner, the black rice with cuttlefish and "bad breath" garlic sauce and mayonnaise (which unfortunately is all the rage in Valencia), the soup with a soggy egg floating in it and the rubber chocolate cake.

Luckily we don't have any romantic dates at the end of the evening, because we would have scared anyone off... We try to forget dinner and console ourselves with the nightlife, but we realise we've got the timing wrong and we can't find it. As a first day we don't get a single thing right, but it's early, we need to understand how the city works.

31 December 2004 On the second day the real discovery of Valencia begins. First thing we pop to the general market, which is very interesting architecturally, but above all because it's a source of food and we need to get hold of the calories necessary for the mega New Year's Eve feast we're going to have at the hostel. We practically spend an entire morning shopping, buying the famous jamon iberico, salami, mandarins, bananas, queso and some fries that look a lot like "dixie" ones, but are amazing. In short, the classic traditional feast, very rich and healthy, based on tortellini, salmon, cotechino and lentils.... Finally we go into a bakery where a shop assistant takes the mickey out of us together with her colleagues, and to mock us because we're a bit indecisive she signals to us to sing.

Humiliated by yet another unpleasant Valencian (we didn't find a single kind one in the whole trip), we buy brioches, cakes and various things for the feast's dessert and ask our "friend" the baker where it's best to go to celebrate New Year's Eve. She looks at us, signals with her hands and advises us to wander the streets of the barrio because "it's packed".....hurray!! Once the shopping's done, very calmly, following Spanish rhythms (even though they seem more Mexican), we also begin the cultural tour of the city and as a first stop we rush to the modern art museum. Entry costs only 1 euro (thanks to the magic university card which, despite my age and my degree dating back to April 2001, I keep using) and they even give you the catalogue.

We have to put on shoe covers, like the ones you wear in the operating room so as not to ruin the floor and the works of art!!! I just don't understand modern art, I don't appreciate it, I must be ignorant, I don't know what to tell you. I'm struck by a painting (that's what they call it) titled "paid parking" and I decide to test all the sisters by asking them what they see in it, without letting them look at the solution. The consoling thing is that all of them see a herd of cows....that's what I'd seen too and I understand that it's not me who's mad, but modern art that has something wrong with it. We abandon the idea of making sense of that work and the others hanging there. The barrio anyway is splendid and consists of an endless series of messy little streets.

Every street in the centre is dedicated to a trade: books, crafts, furniture, with lots of little workshops and fashion shops full of super-handsome sales assistants. Let's say the whole thing is a bit run-down, it has that decadent air that doesn't spoil it at all and vaguely reminds me of Naples and the Spanish Quarters. They're fixing everything up ahead of the America's Cup, the city will surely soon become a jewel, but I prefer having seen it like this, a bit lived-in. Unfortunately, at the same time, it seems like a ghost city because everything is always closed (but what hours do these Spaniards keep, can anyone tell me??) and unlike Italy the Spaniards pull down metal shutters and you can't tell what's behind them....it has a somewhat abandoned air, a shame.

These twisted streets where you always keep bumping into the same people several times (try it to believe it), always lead to the same point, namely our hostel, where the maximum of Valencia's life is concentrated and where every evening, all night long, dozens of punkabestia gather and calmly smoke giant joints. In reality the nerve centre, besides our hostel, is the Plaza de la Virgen. Again this time, still not having understood at what time, how and where Spaniards eat, we end up around 3 in the afternoon, exhausted and starving, in the only restaurant we find open, where we see the first bit of food around 4 and where almost nothing is left of the menu of the day written on the blackboard.

Basically Valencia was once crossed in the middle by a river, which for some reason was diverted or buried, and where the old riverbed was there is now an immense park with various things in the middle. Imagine the length and width of this park. We do almost all of it down to the sea, crossing the zoo in search of Boris (the chimpanzee from the Botanical Garden) whom we don't find, the music museum, the craft fair, cycle paths, skate platforms, etc. Incredible, we should tell Albertini to take a trip round here to get an idea of how to regenerate the Navigli.... In the evening the New Year's Eve party finally begins at the hostel, where we make friends with some Sardinian lads, our neighbours in the room. Around midnight, all dolled up, we head towards the Plaza de l'Ayuntamiento where it's supposed to be "packed", but there's almost no one.

Midnight is about to strike, but evidently I get the chime wrong and I pop the bottle a few seconds early....let's hope it doesn't bring bad luck!!! We each say our new year's resolutions for 2005 and then try to follow the "crowd" abandoning the square to find out what to do for the rest of the night, but you can't tell where everyone is going, we keep bumping into one another, everyone just wandering around aimlessly. Many clubs don't open before 3, they're all closed, and when they finally open we don't even try to go in given the kilometre-long queues at the entrance and our unsuitable clothing. In short, we bounce ourselves to avoid the humiliation. We sit down disconsolately in the Plaza de la Virgen, where, on the churchyard of a church, we watch a football match played by a group of lads from our own country.

Our faces speak for themselves and the other Italian lads passing by humming "attention, concentration, rhythm and vitality" look at us asking if we've taken it badly...is it that obvious?? As if that weren't enough, I hear my jinx song on the street and I already understand how 2005 is going to go....no comment!!! I'm marked...it's been 2 years in a row now. Like last year our New Year's Eve ends very early and off to bed we go!!!

1 January 2005 We continue exploring this beautiful city with its wonderful, spring-like climate, in some ways very similar to Paris. Bounced yet again from the restaurant because we're 7 (so what??, who knows why Spaniards can't conceive of the idea of adding a chair to a table for 6 and setting a place at the head of the table) we end up eating in a sandwich bar. Oh well, no big deal, after all Spain is the country of bocadillos, so we are eating something typical.... Since we haven't managed to eat anything typical, let's at least try to drink "Valencian" and we go to a very smart place called "Marrasquino" to try the famous Agua de Valencia, a cocktail based on orange juice, vodka, cointreau and sparkling wine that's really excellent.

2 January 2005 The following day is dedicated to visiting the largest and most famous modern work the city offers: the City of Arts and Sciences and the oceanographic one by the famous architect Calatrava. I thought this immense and incredible work was already finished, but the works will be completed in 2006 ahead of the America's Cup. No big deal, the bulk is done, only the completion of the arts palace, which looks like a huge metal fish, is missing. This citadel is truly majestic, and worth the trip. Under a bridge with a botanical garden just outside, there's even a hidden ice-skating rink. Unfortunately though the girls stop me from seeing the seals at the Oceanographic, the largest aquarium in Europe, because it costs 20 euros to enter. We walk to the sea (as if it were close....), yes, we've been in a seaside city for 3 days and still haven't seen it...incredible.

Because Valencia is on the sea, but not quite, in the sense that it develops inland and the historic part where we've been so far is inland. But the sea can wait, it's 4 in the afternoon and we finally find an open restaurant that incredibly even has a chequered tablecloth, the only one we'll remember with pleasure. Starving and wrecked we wolf down mixed fried food, salad, paella, dessert, etc., then we plant ourselves on the beach to sunbathe, digest and watch a game of beach volleyball... This sea area is also the university citadel area, there are various faculties scattered around, a shame the students are on holiday....

3 January 2005 The destination planned for the whole day is the seaside town of Albufera where apparently the best paella in the area is eaten and where apparently there are fishermen who take you for a boat ride. We promise each other we'll be back in the city by evening to do the typical last-day shopping, since the holidays are finally over and the shops are open. In reality it ends like this: we finish breakfast late, on the way to the station we get lost among the finally open shops, we raid Skunk Funk, which we elect our favourite shop, where we drive the already hysterical owner crazy (imagine 7 crazed women shopping at the same time in a tiny shop), then we all buy the same tourist t-shirt in Plaza de la Reina, and, since we haven't done enough exercise these days, we climb without stopping the 207 steps of the Torre S. Miguel to see the city from above.

Fabulous! Basically around 3 in the afternoon (5 hours behind schedule) we arrive at the station (which for the record is about ten minutes from our hostel), where we take the bus to Albufera. Albufera is about forty minutes south of Valencia and is a lagoon hidden in a nature reserve. It vaguely reminds me of the Po delta...the scenery is splendid and apparently you witness one of the most beautiful sunsets in Europe....let's hope!!! The bus driver dumps us in the middle of nowhere in a part of the lagoon with little piers where there's an old fisherman with a little wooden boat. After the photo stop, we take a boat ride around the lagoon and dedicate ourselves to bird watching.

Once the lagoon ride is over, having established that the famous restaurants where you eat paella with the fishermen are a figment of the Lonely Planet guide's imagination, so still on an empty stomach, we try to go and explore the other side of the reserve where the open sea should be and we get lost in the Mediterranean scrub. Following a very pretty Wizard of Oz-style path made of wooden beams, we rack up more kilometres in the middle of the woods only to discover that if we'd followed the tarmac road we wouldn't even have done 100 metres, and in the end we don't find the sea because it's still far away, we only find a lake, but we have to get back to base because we have to catch the last bus (there really are very few). What should be the most beautiful sunset in Europe is an ordinary sunset, it's beautiful because the place is beautiful, but there are hundreds of beautiful places.

In the evening we do a bit more shopping, we have to stay up until 6 in the morning without sleeping because it's the last day, we have to be at the airport at 4.40 (the next day) and we haven't booked the last night to save money and because it seemed pointless to go to bed to sleep just a couple of hours. We go back to the Home and occupy the sofas of the common room to rest and kill some time, after which, to at least make it to 4 and perk ourselves up, we decide to go out and spend the rest of the night in a bar. The only one open (you can tell that Monday is closing day....how strange!!!) is a literary café where we get drunk (because in the end we've only eaten yet another miserable sandwich followed by biscuits) on spiked coffees that were actually supposed to keep us awake and strange infusions of magic herbs

4 January 2005 It's 4 in the morning and we call a taxi. Apparently it takes 20-30 minutes to the airport, but I, Betty and the two sisters get Speedy Gonzales, a 70-year-old little old man who perches his little glasses on the tip of his nose, never stops at any traffic light, even if it's red, drives with just one finger, merges at 120km/h near the airport into a very tight parabolic curve that's signposted with a speed limit of 40 and in less than 5 minutes (I swear, timed) we arrive at the airport with our hair standing on end. The second taxi with the rest of the girls obviously arrives much later, but it's unclear how, the girls pay much less than us. Was the surcharge for the show? At the airport everything is closed, we've really arrived early. On this holiday our timing has been way off.

We wait for the desks to open, time drags on and we start finishing off all the leftover provisions. The moment for check-in arrives, which we do at the first-class desk, since I'm an Alitalia frequent flyer. The girl at check-in sees that there's someone in the group who, just for a change, stands out a bit: Frodo. Clearly she just can't stand her and decides that she can't board with her little backpack because it's big (??) and because the plane "is stuffed!!!!".

Frodo, in the grip of furious rage, empties the backpack, puts all the contents in a bag and dumps the empty backpack for the check-in girl to check in, who doesn't understand....Why on earth would you check in a small, empty backpack??? Frodo seeks revenge and, not satisfied, goes back to the girl to ask her why the bag that has the same volume and weight as the backpack, since it has the same things in it, instead gets to go in the cabin. The girl explains that bags are allowed.....I'm speechless!! Once through customs, we realise that the rest of the plane has brought the impossible with them.....sofas, surfboards, trolleys...

We finally board the bus and arrive right under the plane, which is called Libeccio, and we entrust ourselves to it...I don't know what kind of wind that is, let's hope! They serve us a frozen and disgusting coffee-flavoured plumcake, but we don't even notice, we've eaten so badly for 5 days, then we're too tired to think and, one by one, we abandon ourselves into the arms of Morpheus, until the friendly pilot suddenly wakes us up telling us we're landing and that the outside temperature is minus 1!!!!! We're about to undergo a temperature swing of about twenty degrees, what's the problem??? In Milan we wait for our luggage for over an hour. Apparently on the flight arriving from Valencia (and only on our flight) they have to carry out security checks. It's time for goodbyes....