Shoe shopping

Thursday, January 17, 2019 – We’ve had a couple of firsts here in Valencia. Our first lunch out (long delayed because of illness, and quite successful). Our first shop at the Ruzafa market, always fun. My first run. And – downer! – our first cloudy day, today.

Pont del Mar, from Turia park

On Tuesday, we didn’t do a lot, just took a long walk in the early afternoon, with a break in the middle to sit on a bench in the sun and read. We headed over to the river along Carrer de Borriana, a nondescript street that goes north and east from Ruzafa. We went down into the Turia Park at the Pont d'Aragó (Puente de Aragón in Spanish) a modern bridge (1933) named after a train station long since demolished. We walked along the river park to a point a little past the centre, where we found a sunny bench. There weren’t that many free; all the other old farts in Valencia had the same idea we did apparently. It was another gorgeous day, with brilliant sunshine and temps in the mid- to high teens.

Pont del Mar, from Turia park

We walked on after 45 minutes or so of reading – and being serenaded by a dude under the next bridge practicing marching band music on his horn. I’m guessing he’s in a band that participates in one or more of the myriad Fallas and Holy Week parades coming up in February and March. We got almost as far as Torre Serano, one of two medieval gate towers left standing from the long-demolished city walls. At that point, we climbed up out of the river, on the far side, and walked back across the lovely pedestrian-only Pont de la Trinitata (Puente de la Trinidad). It’s the oldest bridge in the city, begun in 1402. 

A couple of blocks down, we turned off the major boulevard that runs along the river onto Carrer del Mur de Santa Anna. It's a pedestrian-only street that heads into the centre. The street is worth walking down, even if it’s not the best route to where you’re going, because the 15th century Palau dels Borja, the Palace of the Borgias, is on it. We associate the Borgias with Italy, but they were actually Spanish, originally from Aragaón. One branch, the one that produced the Renaissance-era popes, settled in Valencia in the middle ages. The palace, a beautiful Valencian gothic building, today houses the local law courts – somewhat ironic given the alleged criminality of its former inhabitants. The building is frustratingly difficult to photograph because it’s on such a narrow street.

Plaza de la Virgen

Carrer del Mur de Santa Anna ends at Plaza de la Virgen, where I took some (more) pictures. I believe a city by-law requires visitors to take pictures at this spot – certainly everybody does. The late sun was shining beautifully on the pink stucco of the Basilica. We noodled around in this very pretty area of the city for a bit, then struck off along a quiet – but alas, shady – street roughly in the direction of home.

Carrer de l'Almodi

Placa de Sant Lluis Bertran

It just happened to bring us out on a major shopping street right near a Camper shoe outlet. Big sale on, as of course I knew. Karen left me to go in on my own. I found a pair of “my” Campers on sale for 40% off (€90). They’re the original Camper shoe, called Peu (which apparently means foot in the language of Majorca, where the company originated.) This pair is dark green suede with orange laces. I know, sounds garish, but if they fit the same as the black ones I have, I’ll buy them. Most comfortable shoe I’ve ever worn. This would be my third pair. 

We continued on home along a route that took us, for the first time this visit, past the fabulous rococo Palacio del Marqués de Dos Aguas. It houses the National Ceramics Museum, but the outside is very beautiful to look at. And onward, along a short stretch of Avenida Colón, through the walkway by the bull ring and across Gran Via de les Germanies into Ruzafa. Home.

Yesterday, I ran in the morning. I went over to Central Park and jogged a couple of times around its perimeter. It felt like a reasonable workout, given the long lay-off and the bout of sickness. The place was practically deserted, apart from a few dog walkers, some gardeners and a couple of other runners. All the fountains and streams were turned off.

I saw another guy doing stair climbs. As I went by, out of the corner of my eye, I caught him, I thought, falling back down the stairs. It wasn’t till I came back around by a slightly different route that I noticed the huge slide beside the stairs down into the big playground. The guy was still there, throwing himself down the slide – with a little ‘woo-hoo!’ – and then running back up the stairs. That’s one kind of workout, I guess.

We had determined that today would be our first lunch out. We were both well over the gut disease. We started off looking for a likely restaurant near Ruzafa market. We looked at one Shelley B. had recommended, but ended up at a place only a few blocks from the flat.

Ruzafa restaurant

We sat outside in the sun. It was warm and sunny, again – sorry. Behind us sat a trio of young Scandinavian women who, judging by their ease with the language and acquaintanceship with other diners, must live, or at least spend a lot of time, here. Two of them had their computers out and appeared to be working. 

Beside us was a pair of workmen who were drinking their lunch-siesta away. The older guy had a deep, gravelly voice and talked incessantly. I could almost – sort of – follow what he was saying. A lot of talk about what was going to happen in the spring, in April. The dark-complexioned younger guy, wearing a toque over his long flowing hair, barely got a word in, and spoke very quietly. They were speaking Castllian, not the local language.

The restaurant had a fixed-price menu del día for €8.50 (dessert, but not drink, included). For segundos (mains), I had the ubiquitous meatballs in mild tomato sauce with rice and salad. Karen had a chicken filet with fried potatoes. We both had little Asian-fusion vegetable dumplings for primeros. Dessert was rich, moist chocolate cake. Everything was very well prepared and tasty, although the portions weren’t overly generous. Total bill with a glass of wine each: €22 (less than $35). We think restaurant prices are actually down a bit from the last time we were here.

Turia River park from bridge

After lunch, we walked through the centre, much of the way along Avenida Colón (the major shopping street), to the Museu de Belles Arts. This is the city’s historical art museum, housed in the 17th-18th century St. Pius V Palace. We’ve visited it at least once every time we’ve been here. The collection includes a lot of really boring muddy-hued religious paintings, but there are enough highlights to keep bringing us back for seconds, or thirds – especially given that it’s free.

Royal Gardens near Museu de belles arts

On this occasion, though, we’d come to see an exhibit of modern art, including by some big names, which was ending in a few days. It’s a joint venture of IVAM and the Fine Arts Museum. We assumed it would be in a separate exhibit room but they’d interspersed the pieces, cleverly, I thought, among the traditional stuff on the ground floor. There were some Robert Rauschenberg photo collages I quite liked and a Claes Oldenberg sculpture in the lobby. Not the most scintillating exhibit but a pleasant way to while away part of an afternoon.

I was pleased to see that the humorously grotesque Hieronymus Bosch triptych, the Triptych of Insults, is back on display – it was missing the last time we were here. It's on the theme of Christ's abuse at the hands of the people before his crucifixion. Unfortunately, it now has glass covering the panels and poor lighting that creates glare if you stand in front of it.

Museu de belles arts - blue courtyard

We biked part of the way home, then walked the last bit.

I should mention in passing the TV we’ve been watching (on Netflix) – more as a warning than anything. We’ve sworn we will never watch another season of Case, a Nordic-noir from Iceland. It’s superbly acted and well enough written, if a little slow moving. But the story, about sadistic sexual abuse of prebuscent girls, is very disturbing, and the cast of characters is devoid of any that can provide a “moral centre” for the story. It was very difficult to watch. We persevered, but ended cursing it. Even Karen, who loved Breaking Bad, a show I found unwatchable – however well done – found this one tough sledding.

Today was our first cloudy day in Valencia. And it’s been cloudy all day. We feel this is an affront. Sunny weather is supposed to return tomorrow. Thank goodness. 

In the morning, we walked over to Ruzafa market and did a small shop: little potatoes, strawberries and cherries. The strawberries came from Huelva, which is down on the Atlantic coast, west of Seville and north of Cadiz. They’re under-ripe but not too bad; they at least have some strawberry taste.

Ruzafa street art

In the afternoon, we headed out for a walk that was to include a visit to the Camper store so I could buy my shoes. They felt exactly the same on my feet as the black ones I have, so I bought them. I almost bought a pair of walking shoes as well, and may still go back for them – brown or black half boots with laces and a side zipper, Goretex lined: €123 on sale. 

Here’s a shocker: Karen, who has often said she didn’t even like Camper’s women’s styles bought a pair as well, little elastic sided half-boots. Very cool. I had intended to just shove the new shoes in my back pack and keep walking, but with two boxes of shoes to cart, we had to go home right away. We’re in for the night now.