Life: Idiotropic

General Route:  Valencia Nord train station, down Calle Russafa to Avenida de la Reina, into the Turia, around the CAC, up the Turia to the bridge "Puente de la Exposicion," through Glorieta Park, down Calle de la Paz, around the Plaza de la Reina, and back to Valencia Nord.


Calle Ruzafa (Russafa) holds an eclectic mix of shops and artists, restaurants and interesting graffiti.  To be fair, interesting graffiti can be found everywhere in Valencia, but here in Ruzafa, it fits.  On Mondays, you can find a large outdoor market filling the streets around the Iglesia Parroquial.  Walk to the entrance of the church, then turn around and you'll find the indoor market building full of artistically displayed produce and racks of hanging pig legs - jamon serrano.   I stopped today to buy a meter of navy blue velcro for the girls skirts which my mother painstakingly sewn on for me.  The plump lady selling it to me was very friendly.  She has 7 grandchildren and oh, what a ruckus when they are all together.  "Caos," she said.  Oh, I can believe it.

The weather seems to have turned, or at least we hope.  After so much cold and rain, we need a little sun.  Oh, Weather, if you are reading this, I do emphasis the word "little."  The sun was shining.  The layers we wore pealing off quicker than we'd imagined.  I'd hoped that the lovely Turia gardens would shield us from the heat.  Large trees growing in a sunken riverbed ought to provide some solace, but any winds that blow flow right over the top, and leave the turia quite warm in spite of its shade.  We circled the CAC to see Calatrava's breathtaking masterpieces there observing some formal ceremony involving Ford that the mayor of Valencia and a slew of suited gentlemen attended with much pomp, security guards blocking access to the Hemispheric.   Made it back into the shade if not the cool and hurried a bit towards the bridge near Glorieta Park, the Puente de la Exposicion.

Starving.  The cafe on the corner had a "Cafe Valiente" sign.  Like Bitburger in Germany, the beverage signs for this well known coffee company are displayed so much bigger than the name of the actual establishment that it's hard to know where you're at.  The placard said "4 Euros Portion Paella o Bolognese."  We each ordered a coffee, a water (we were simply dying of heat), and a small pastry to tide us over.  I hadn't even reached my seat when a stout man carrying a 3' pan of steaming fresh paella walked in and set it down.  Pout.  Oh?  Can we change our order?  Sigh.  So, now I know.  Show up just before 1 and you can have the first delicious portion of paella.  A few minutes later, the bolognese came out of the oven.  A lady walked in behind us, plunked down her measly 4+ Euros and walked out with a enormous portion of this local rice dish and a beer.  She apparently didn't notice us salivating as we watched her from the window while she sat with her book.

Glorieta park is the mid or end point of many parades because of its location at the end of two main roads, one that leads to the main train station, and the other that leads to the Cathedral.  It's not a large park, especially next to the Turia, but the small green triangle is a nice quiet spot in the bustle of crisscrossing streets.  In this park of pathways and benches are two absolutely enormous trees.  Baby varieties of these line Calle de Colon in some places, stringy roots hanging down from their branches with the idea of someday taking hold and thickening into a sturdy trunk.  There, they are pruned and kept small.  Here, you can see where many individual strands have taken root and come together to form the thick trunk that now supports a vast canopy of leaves and branches.  It's a tree of storybooks and day dreams.  To read under it, to climb it, to listen to its history would be delightful.

Today, under this tree, sat a bench.  And on that bench sat a nicely dressed, clean-shaven man with white hair.  He watched me stare at the trees.  I asked him what they were.  He didn't know, but that got him talking.  "An American," he smiles when he hears my nationality.  He's traveled to the US and told me how much he loves my country and how disgusted he is with his president, Zapatero.  He's traveled to the Caribbean and Florida as well as Europe.  He's sung on ships.  He's been on TV.  He learned to speak English, but doesn't use it now.  He didn't use it today.  We talked fairly freely in Spanish and that was nice.  "Como se llama?"  "Antonio."  Tony.  "Like Tony Bennet", he says.  He sings like Tony too.  I told him it would be nice to hear him sing.  He says to come back to Glorieta park.  He'll be there.

On Calle de Paz there's a really nice Starbucks with a covered "outdoor" patio right there on this busy street.  It's like drinking coffee in your living room though - peaceful and somewhat quiet.  It was a good place to buy some beans and pick up souvenirs for mom.

On Calle de les Avellanes we saw rose petals from the day before when La Virgen de los Desamparados was paraded from the Basilica to the Cathedral in a sea of diligent onlookers who would try to touch her believing that she can help.

There's an outdoor market circling Plaza de la Reina with pottery and souvenir stuff.  It's going to be here all month.  I found a nice "gira de tortillas," a specialized ceramic plate for tortilla espanola that has a handle on the bottom that can also be used for a stand.  That way, you can flip your thick potato/egg pie onto the plate, then slide it back into the pan with ease.




At the Plaza Lope de Vega we found our lunch.  One restaurant is split there into "the restaurant proper" and the "quick eat stop".  The style differs though the kitchen is ultimately the same.  We opted for the proper food.  The maitre'd was charming, a common theme for restaurants that mom and I choose together.  After all, it's not the food that lures us in... but it is the food that lures us back and I suspect we'll be back.  To start, a mixed green salad topped with goat cheese.  Perfect.  I complimented our waitress who told me that they get the greens from local farmers fresh each day.  So, so delicious.  We each had a bit of wine - the second glass a light and fruity white from Marina Alta that I later found at my grocery store for 4 Euros/bottle.  Not sweet nor dry, it is the perfect balance to the intensity of the rosemary duck rice that we ordered.  Arriving in a steaming black pot which we shared, this is essentially a paella with broth, the same rice and basic flavors, but with a flavorful "caldo" that's perfect with a chunk of bread.   It didn't last long.  Our friendly waitress offered dessert.  "No thank you, we really have to hurry to the train."  "How about our sampler?  It's quick."  Arm twisting at it's finest.

No regrets.  Here is.  Splitting it is the perfect plan - so intensely flavored, neither of us felt that we were getting too little.  Mango ice cream, crema de Catalan, a fruit tarte, and some sort of yummy berry mousse in the center. 


Our view during lunch was really quite nice.  The Plaza Lope de Vega is just one narrow street from the Plaza de la Reina, a very busy tourist center, but it's surprisingly quite with just little groups passing through here and there.  Across from us is a large church that is rarely open, but quite beautiful.  The square is flat and open, perfect for a girl in a twirly dress or a little boy with a ball.  Fun for little dogs who lead their masters to who knows where.  No leash, just determination.  Fun for connoisseurs of ice cream like these for they can sit in the old covered windows of the church and relax there.  It's quite informal here in Valencia.  And so beautiful.  I'm been blessed with another Valencia day.