Despite our bus breaking down and arriving an hour and a half late, we did eventually make it safely to Valencia - just in time to get a great tour of the city before dark, then to prepare for a little dinner party at Laurence’s adorable apartment in the city central.
With curvy cobblestone streets full of shops, people, fountains and beautiful little parks, Valencia has a very romantic and costal feeling that reminded me in many ways of being back home in San Diego. That being said, the roman influenced architecture and street names written in Catalan immediately set it apart from any place I’ve ever visited, making it all the more exciting and interesting to walk around and explore this beautiful southern Spanish beach town.
As we headed back from Corte Ingles (the WalMart meets Costco meets Westfield Shopping Center that is taking over Spain) with all the food for our dinner party, the first thing I noticed was a gorgeous bride taking pictures under one of the many exotic cathedrals bordering the Plaza de Virgin. (See picture to the left.) Laurence didn’t seem to be phased – then I realized why. As we kept walking, there was bride after bride, all wearing similarly styled wedding dresses, hopping out of the same shiny black cars, posing just far enough apart from each other so that you couldn’t see the other brides in their pictures. I asked Laurence what the heck was going on, and apparently this is a completely normal weekend occurrence. Dozens of brides at a time, year round, all flock to the same central area near Laurence’s apartment to get married in the Roman cathedrals, and then get their pictures taken on the beach close by.
After dodging cameramen and wedding videographers, we finally made it back to Laurence’s place and started getting everything ready for the dinner party. Around 11pm several of his friends from Germany and Quebec joined us for a delicious (and healthy!! Finally!!) dinner, and we all had a great and relaxing evening, just sitting around laughing at our language barriers (English was everyone else’s second language to French and German, but since we’re all studying Spanish we alternated between the two) and all the cultural differences between the places where we grew up.
Saturday afternoon, we spent a good portion of our day at the beach just laying around in the sun and enjoying the warm Mediterranean ocean. I made a videoblog in the water (yay for underwater digital cameras! :D) but the sound turned out a little bit muffled. In any case, here it is:
Another major highlight from our beach trip was the hardly-competitive beach volleyball match we were challenged to by six middle aged, sunburned, and slightly drunk Sweedish men. Even though there were nine of us and six of them, they still insisted on playing - then proceeded to sing a strange and off-key fight song every time they made a point.
Later that night we all returned back to the apartment and Cecily and I got ready for our first true Spanish evening that would last from about 10pm until sunrise the next day.
How to Party Like the Spanish:
With curvy cobblestone streets full of shops, people, fountains and beautiful little parks, Valencia has a very romantic and costal feeling that reminded me in many ways of being back home in San Diego. That being said, the roman influenced architecture and street names written in Catalan immediately set it apart from any place I’ve ever visited, making it all the more exciting and interesting to walk around and explore this beautiful southern Spanish beach town.
As we headed back from Corte Ingles (the WalMart meets Costco meets Westfield Shopping Center that is taking over Spain) with all the food for our dinner party, the first thing I noticed was a gorgeous bride taking pictures under one of the many exotic cathedrals bordering the Plaza de Virgin. (See picture to the left.) Laurence didn’t seem to be phased – then I realized why. As we kept walking, there was bride after bride, all wearing similarly styled wedding dresses, hopping out of the same shiny black cars, posing just far enough apart from each other so that you couldn’t see the other brides in their pictures. I asked Laurence what the heck was going on, and apparently this is a completely normal weekend occurrence. Dozens of brides at a time, year round, all flock to the same central area near Laurence’s apartment to get married in the Roman cathedrals, and then get their pictures taken on the beach close by.
After dodging cameramen and wedding videographers, we finally made it back to Laurence’s place and started getting everything ready for the dinner party. Around 11pm several of his friends from Germany and Quebec joined us for a delicious (and healthy!! Finally!!) dinner, and we all had a great and relaxing evening, just sitting around laughing at our language barriers (English was everyone else’s second language to French and German, but since we’re all studying Spanish we alternated between the two) and all the cultural differences between the places where we grew up.
Saturday afternoon, we spent a good portion of our day at the beach just laying around in the sun and enjoying the warm Mediterranean ocean. I made a videoblog in the water (yay for underwater digital cameras! :D) but the sound turned out a little bit muffled. In any case, here it is:
Another major highlight from our beach trip was the hardly-competitive beach volleyball match we were challenged to by six middle aged, sunburned, and slightly drunk Sweedish men. Even though there were nine of us and six of them, they still insisted on playing - then proceeded to sing a strange and off-key fight song every time they made a point.
Later that night we all returned back to the apartment and Cecily and I got ready for our first true Spanish evening that would last from about 10pm until sunrise the next day.
How to Party Like the Spanish:
1) Start with tapas (various plates of appetizers) around 11pm. Order everything on the menu, but try not to gag if what shows up has eyes and/or a head. (See video below, and the picture for a better view of what I was eating.)http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_YsJ_W7yxF8
2) Around 1am, start the house party. In our case, we had about 25 people from 8-10 different countries, so that made for quite the cultural learning experience. See video below.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zpI9jQgAQCU
3) Around 3:30am when the Discotecas open, head out with a big group and get in line. Once in, head straight to the electric music lounge with the fog, live DJ, and strobe lights. Learn from my mistake and don’t ever go to a Discoteca in sandals. (Midway through the night I stepped on a piece of glass from a broken cup on the floor. Luckily it wasn’t a very deep cut, but I realized afterword that feet need better protection under those circumstances.)
4) Dance the night away until 7am when the Disco closes. Then, as the sun starts to rise, grab breakfast at a pizzeria and walk home to recover and get a good day’s sleep.
Our bus ride home was slow and uncomfortable as usual, and although the bus didn’t break down this time, our driver decided to stop without warning in some city in the middle of nowhere to take siesta and a smoke break around 12:30am. When we got back home around 2am, I was eternally grateful to lie down in a real bed, (instead of a couch or bus seat) and had no problem falling right back asleep after our crazy, fun and adventure filled weekend.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zpI9jQgAQCU
3) Around 3:30am when the Discotecas open, head out with a big group and get in line. Once in, head straight to the electric music lounge with the fog, live DJ, and strobe lights. Learn from my mistake and don’t ever go to a Discoteca in sandals. (Midway through the night I stepped on a piece of glass from a broken cup on the floor. Luckily it wasn’t a very deep cut, but I realized afterword that feet need better protection under those circumstances.)
4) Dance the night away until 7am when the Disco closes. Then, as the sun starts to rise, grab breakfast at a pizzeria and walk home to recover and get a good day’s sleep.
Our bus ride home was slow and uncomfortable as usual, and although the bus didn’t break down this time, our driver decided to stop without warning in some city in the middle of nowhere to take siesta and a smoke break around 12:30am. When we got back home around 2am, I was eternally grateful to lie down in a real bed, (instead of a couch or bus seat) and had no problem falling right back asleep after our crazy, fun and adventure filled weekend.
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