Re-explorations

Wednesday, January 23, 2019 – More walking, a little riding and a very Valencian art exhibit to report.

On Sunday, we decided – well, I decided – that we should walk somewhere we’d never been before. So we headed away from the centre, past Avenida Peris y Valero, the major artery we cycle along to get to the riverbed park. We chose, more or less at random, Avenida Dr. Waksman, a wide boulevard heading on a diagonal southeast. It would take us down to the river, but bring us out further east, at the Reina Sofia Arts Centre in the City of Arts and Sciences.

Avenida Dr. Waksman - downscale suburbs

Despite its proximity to the city centre, this area has a very suburban feel, the feel of not very affluent suburbs. Boring high-rise apartment blocks, empty lots, scruffy parks, shuttered shops, relatively few restaurants and bars open this Sunday – at least in comparison to Ruzafa. There was one long block with nothing visible but 30-foot-high walls with razor wire on top. It’s an internment centre for extranjeros, foreigners, I later learned from Google maps. This might explain why we noticed so many black people in the neighbourhood. I’m guessing it’s where they intern migrants before admitting them to the country or sending them back. There’s also a police facility in the same block.

City of Arts & Sciences - Queen Sofia opera hall

We walked into the centre along the river and then back up to Ruzafa. It was not a walk I could recommend, but it was interesting for affording a different, if somewhat unlovely, view of the city.

I sallied out after dinner for a walk around the neighbourhood in search of sweets. The bakeries were all closed. The only option was the Mercadona for Werthers and a chocky bar. Oh, well.

Monday, I wanted to re-explore some of our favourite haunts in the city centre. I’m not sure why I always get to choose where we walk, but Karen seems not to care as long as she’s walking. She does want to be in the sun – is slightly obsessed with the sun, in fact – which can be problematic. It’s a big city with narrow streets and high buildings, especially in the centre. The sun doesn’t often make it down to street level, except in the squares and along wide boulevards, which tend to be boring.

                                   

On Gran Via del Marqués de Túria 

We started by walking down Gran Via de les Germanies, which becomes Gran Via del Marqués de Túria. It’s a boulevard, with a central walkway lined with old fig trees, and separates Ruzafa from the historic centre. There are lots of really gorgeous apartment blocks along this avenue, including the one below, built in a vaguely modernista style. We turned up Carrer d’Hernán Cortés towards Avenida Colón, noting the modern apartment block near the corner with its elaborate religious decoration on the front. According to Google Maps, it’s an old people’s home, presumably one operated by the Catholic church.

Front of apartment block on Gran Via del Marqués de Túria

Retirement home on Carrer d’Hernán Cortés

We crossed Colón and zig-zagged along small streets until we found one of my targets for the day, the lovely Plaça de Rodrigo Botet. This used to be – may still be on a different day – a great place for restaurants. One of the first places we found that we really liked was here. On this day at least, it looked pretty dead, Some of the restaurants, including the one we had particularly liked, appear to have closed. Surprising. We continued down the narrow street that goes out the other side of the square. There used to be restaurants along here that we liked too – including the one we came later to not like because it was where Karen got food poisoning in 2011. But it too looked dead. There was still a nightclub but with a different name and more outlandish front.

Plaça de Rodrigo Botet

Night club near Plaça de Rodrigo Botet

A few blocks over, we came to the rococo Palace of the Marqués de Dos Aguas, now the National Ceramics Museum. I never tire of looking at it and trying to photograph it. The alabaster sculptures surrounding the main doors, made in 1745, are by a Valencian artist, Ignacio Vergara Gimeno. Beautiful, if over the top.

Palace of the Marqués de Dos Aguas

Palace of the Marqués de Dos Aguas

We wandered after that, zig-zagging around the centre, along streets lined with ancient buildings, into pretty little squares, down narrow alleys. We reached the Serranos gate towers from a different direction than we have before, then ducked into Carmén. 

Serrano Towers

As always, I found more street art to photograph, including a very sophisticated piece that went all around a building with a kind of "wainscoting" with pictures along it. We figured the window with its obscene tableau of (mostly) naked Ken dolls must be at a gay nightclub, shuttered at this time of day. (If you want to see what it shows, click on the picture to enlarge it.) We got back for a very late lunch.

Carmén street art

Carmén: x-rated window display

I went out later in the afternoon to look for sesame oil for a dish I was making. Neither the Mercadona nor the Consum, the two big supermarkets near us, had it. I found it a couple of blocks away at a little independent supermarket run by Chinese people. I also found, in another Chinese-run store, the mouse pad I’d been wanting. My mouse is happy now.

Yesterday, Tuesday, was a holiday in Spain, St. Vincent the Martyr Day. We set out in the late morning and rode down to the Turia riverbed, then along it almost to the Serrano towers. I think we’ve become acclimatized. It seemed a bit cool for biking – even though it was bright and 14 or 15C. The biking was a bit bumpy on the bricked pathway in the park. Why would they not have put asphalt or cement down where they wanted cyclists to go?

We came up out of the riverbed and ditched the bikes, then wandered from there, through the centre by a zig-zag route in the general direction of MuVIM, the Museum of Enlightenment & Modernity. I was looking again for some of my favourite spots, including one narrow alley near MuVIM with some great street art. We didn’t find that one, but we did find other remembered sites, and also found some new street art. The city was definitely not busy today. Some shops were open but more were closed for the holiday. There were people out and about, but there was no bustle.

We eventually, after a few wrong turns, found our way to the museum. It’s an odd place. There is a permanent exhibition, a slightly Disney-ish walking tour through displays related to the Enlightenment, with live actors and animatronics. Very weird. You have to book an appointment to see it, which we did the first year we were here. There are also several spaces, most below ground level, for temporary exhibits.

The one we ended up viewing was Mare dels Desemparats (Virgin of the Forsaken), about “the secularization and persistence of popular manifestations of religious worship.” It mainly focuses on depictions of a particular incarnation of the Virgin Mary – the Virgin of the Forsaken (or Disposssessed maybe?) She’s a patron of Valencia apparently. The exhibit included an historical survey going back to the 1400s. As is usually the case at this museum, frustratingly, the text on the walls and labeling of artifacts is in Valencian and Spanish only. It was clearly an expensively- and elaborately-mounted exhibition, but we didn’t really get it. This was partly because of the language issues, but more because – well, it was about religion. There were some impressive figures of Mary, but in a style that to our eyes seems...gaudy. Plus, we’ve seen lots of these things in churches in Spain and Italy over the years. Yawn.

We returned home for another late lunch. And stayed in for the rest of the day. I went out in the early evening for a ramble around the neighbourhood, which seemed subdued. Very little open other than bars and restaurants.

Walking Valencia

Sunday, January 20, 2019 – Friday was a walking day. We walked a lot.

I also ran in the morning, back in Central Park. While jogging on a nearby street, I discovered another way across the tracks, a pedestrian and bicycle overpass. Since we’re usually headed for the centre when we go out, it’s not that useful, but good to know it’s there if we’re ever headed in that direction – over to the other railway station, for example, to meet Shelly Rowe when she comes from Seville.

In the morning, we walked back to the Camper store on Avenida Colón. Karen had noticed the day before that the receipt for our shoes showed mine as costing €105. “I thought you said they were €90,” she said. I did, they were, they’d overcharged me. How it happened is difficult to fathom. Their website says the shoes are on sale for €90. The sticker on the shoe in the store said €90. Still I was charged €105. So back we went.

I didn’t take the shoes, just the electronic receipt they’d emailed me. Karen went window shopping while I went in. Luckily, the sales clerk spoke a little English. She studied her computer for some time, clearly flummoxed, then said I’d have to bring the shoes in. Why, I said? Here’s the receipt, it says I was charged €105. Here’s the shoe from your display, it says I was supposed to have been charged €90. Simple. She finally said she’d get her manager. Another woman came and went through the same exhaustive examination of receipt and computer screen before finally agreeing to refund the overcharge.

On the way to Camper, we’d walked up the street where Shelley and Shelly will be staying when they come to Valencia in February. It’s a much posher neighbourhood than ours, but could be noisy as their place is only a half block from Avenida Colón, which is a major artery with a lot of traffic. After the Camper errand, we walked back in the same direction on the next street down and zig-zagged through this high-end downtown neighbourhood. At one point, we turned onto Ciril Amarós, a street on which we often find ourselves. It’s lined with posh-looking apartment blocks and chi-chi shops selling designer duds, interior decor stuff and children’s clothes. The latter I call abuela shops, places where grandmothers (abuelas in Spanish) can spend exorbitant sums on designer clothes for their grandchildren.

We ended up at Mercado Colón. Built in the early 20th century in the modernista style made famous by Gaudi’s buildings in Barcelona, it was once a real produce market. In recent years, it has been brilliantly restored and is now mostly filled with upscale restaurants and cafes. The last time we came here, there was very little on the below-ground level. Now there are some new businesses, mostly more restaurants, but also a fishmonger that wasn’t there before.

Our general impression is that the economy in Valencia is improving, purse strings have loosened – witness the new Central Park. Two record years of tourism will have helped, but the Spanish economy in general has been improving too.

We started back towards Ruzafa from Mercado Colón, walking along streets we’d never been on before, guessing at the turns, and ended up exactly where we needed to be. We know this city – or the centre of it anyway.

After lunch and a little siesta, we sallied out again about four. The sun, was already low in the sky. We walked through the centre over into Carmén, the bohemian nightclub area (but also a lower-middle-class residential area.) I always like wandering in this area because it’s the heart of the very active street art scene in Valencia. 

An old favourite: a zombie, now, appropriately, mouldering

We found some great new (to me) street art, and some old favourites, including the bucking horse led by snail cowboys. A couple of good ones have disappeared – the sad cat with burnt tail on the restaurant just off Tossal Square, for example. But it's been painted over with something just as good, by Disneylexya, a new name (to me). We wandered for an hour, then realized how late it was getting and scurried back through the centre by a slightly different route.

Work by Disneylexya near Plaza Tossal

Yesterday we set out in the late morning with the idea of walking to the Centre del Carme, the convent-turned-art gallery in the main square in Carmén. (Carme is the name in Valencian, the Catalan-like local language; Carmén is the Spanish. The autonomous region of Valencia is officially bilingual.) The walk took us right through the centre – City Hall Square, the Central Market, the Silk Exchange. A sunny Saturday, the place was humming, tourists – mostly suburbanites probably – clogged the streets. The gargoyles were brilliantly lit on the front of the Silk Exchange. The sun was making all the old buildings look lovely.  

St. Joan of the Market - church next to Central Market

We walked down different streets in Carmén and found lots more interesting street art, some signed, some not.

Carmén street art: unusual in being in an abstract style - most is closer to illustration

Carmén street art: psychadelic iguana(?) by Dasoiking, a Chilean artist living in Valencia

Carmén street art by Sea162, a Madrid-based grafitero

Carmén street art: I'm watching you

We’d been to the Centre del Carme a few times on other visits. At least part of it had been nicely restored, but exhibit space was limited and there weren’t always exhibits on – it seemed a bit hit and miss. The place has been transformed. It’s now the Centre del Carme – Cultura Contemporània. They’ve restored much more of it. There’s now lots of exhibit space, and multiple exhibits on all the time. We looked at two.

One was a show of paintings by young Polish artists. I thought it was impressive that a provincial museum in Spain would bother itself with fairly obscure art from a distant country. I can’t say I was terribly impressed with the art, though.

Centre del Carme: Polish exhibit - water colour by Basia Bańda

The other exhibit was a major retrospective of work by a Spanish artist, Daniel García Andújar (1966-). I’d never heard of him, but he seems to be a pretty big deal here. He’s a conceptualist, but one with a sense of humour. His specialty is elaborate fakery. We particularly liked “Leaders,” a room papered with fake posters of famous world leaders in unlikely poses, created with a lot of Photoshop wizardry. Mao wearing Kiss makeup. George W. Bush buddying up with Fidel Castro. Karl Marx getting a haircut. My favourite was one with Saddam Hussein as an apparently repentent abusive husband in a poster supposedly from some Swiss government department. Headline: “If your partner turns out to be a tyrant.” The humour reminds me a little of Banksy.

Centre del Carme: "Leaders" project by Daniel García Andújar 

By the time we’d finished with Andújar, it was almost one, so we went home for lunch – and somehow never made it out again.

Carmén street art: at Plaza de Carmén

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.

To the sea

Tuesday, January 15, 2019 – Sunday was another down day – this disease doesn’t give up easily. I slept quite a bit. We finally roused ourselves in the late afternoon and walked over to Parque Centrale and explored a little more of it. The sun was out, the temperature up to 16C or so. Valencians have discovered their new park, the place was humming. We walked about for a bit, found the playground area and more fountains and gardens, then settled down on a quiet bench for a read before heading home to dinner.

Parque Centrale

Parque Centrale - playground area

Parque Centrale - rippling stream

Monday was the first day I felt more or less normal, if not brimming with energy. Karen has been fine for a couple of days now. It was supposed to be sunny, again, and go up to 18C, which probably meant it would go higher. Definitely a beach day.

We headed out a little after one. The plan was to ride, but we had to walk a kilometer or so down Peris y Valero before we could find two bikes at a Valenbisi station. We pedalled from there to the beach, with one stop on Puerto to “refresh” our mounts. With Valenbisi, subscribers get the first half hour free. As long as you re-dock your bike before the 30 minutes is up, there’s no additional charge. So you stop, dock, wait for the system to signal with a double beep that your bike has been recorded as returned, then take it out again. And off you go.

The beach was surprisingly busy for a January Monday. It was Spanish lunchtime. It was also a lovely day. We had feared there might be a cool breeze off the water, but there was none. It was just as warm down here as in the city. Pixel boards along the way had reported as high as 23C. We had the usual problem returning our bikes. On days like this, at lunchtime especially, everybody heads to the beach, and parks their Valenbisi bike at one of several stations along the promenade. The stations get filled up. We had to go almost down to the end of the Valencian beach before we found one with slots for two bikes.

Braving the Med in January

The first thing Karen wanted to do was go down to the water and dip her toes in – and have me record the event on camera. So that’s what we did. She said the water was the temperature of Lake Huron in June. Brrr! We did see a few people in bathing suits out in the water. There were also a couple wearing wet suits, which seemed much more sensible to me. We walked down to the end of Malva-Rosa beach along the promenade and then a short way into Alboraia, the next municipality to the north. By this time, we were in search of a comfortable bench for sitting and reading. Gosh, we lead exciting lives.

Braving the Med in January

We walked back over a kilometer before we gave up on finding a sunny bench with a back. We ended up sitting on the low wall between the promenade and the sand. We read for half hour or 45 minutes. It was getting noticeably cooler by the time we packed it in a little after four. We still had shopping to do.

Marking the beginning of Patacona beach, Alboraia

We’d take the tram and subway and use up one of the ten rides we’d paid for when we bought the Metrovalencia Mobilis cards we needed to get the annual Valenbisi subscription. It was a short three-stop tram ride up to the nearest Metro stop, then 20 minutes or so on the tube to get to Bailen, a stop about 15 minutes from home. We went right out again and did a small shop at the Mercadona across the street. Then we were in for the night. 

What a drag it is getting old! As Sir Mick once sang.