Rather spontaneously really, my friend and I planned a quick trip to Valencia. I was motivated by my burning desire to swim in the sea, something I can not go too long without before I start to get crabby. The drive was breathtaking, we rode through craggy mountains and past quarries of the brightest blue. As we approached Valencia by way of rental Jeep, however, it began to storm. Lightning, thunder, sheets of rain crashing from the sky, basically the whole nine yards. I kept a calm head, by which of course I mean I started to freak out. I had a full day of outdoor activities planned, namely swimming in the sea. Thankfully I was worried for no reason, it ended up being the most glorious two days of my life so far. We arrived at a beach a little ways away from the main city. The rain was not too heavy, but not too light either. The air was cool, the wind bit at my skin, but as a native New Englander with Soviet blood, I was no stranger to swimming in subpar conditions. I quickly stripped out of my clothes and, laughing and whooping the whole way, dove headfirst into a huge, frothing wave. The water engulfed me immediately in its warm embrace, spindly fingers pulling me down, down, down into the clear depths. I sprung off the sandy bottom and emerged with the next wave. The chilly air nipped and slapped at my wet face, the water was several degrees warmer than the air. Rain pelted my face and the surface of the sea, choppy waves rose up to slap me now and again, and dark clouds loomed overhead. Now, if you’ve never swam in these conditions, I recommend you put down this blog and go find some for yourself. There are no words to describe the humble fear, the deep respect, the absolute clarity of the insignificance of our existence when faced with the mighty force that is a stormy sea. A smile rips my cheeks wide and I feel nearly possessed by the water that seems too warm to be true and a sky that seems so gray it is barely blue. Ok now I’m rhyming so I’m sure you can tell how deeply this affected me. The beach was wider than I’d ever seen, it stretched endlessly in both directions and was empty save for my swimming form. No beach houses, no dogs running amok, just salt, sand, sea, and me! The way I like it best.
We could see that the main city of Valencia was no longer under the influence of storm clouds, but rather clear and sunny skies, and so we set our courses for town. My next mission was to try Valencia’s signature cocktail- agua de Valencia. Champagne, gin, vodka, and their specialty- fresh Valencia orange juice. Valencia is also the birthplace of paella, and I love any excuse to dig into a massive pan of paella. Which is exactly what we did. At a quaint restaurant overlooking Playa de la Malvarrosa, I reveled in the cocktail (larger than my head) and the paella (larger than two of my head). The rich flavors melted on my tongue and inspired feelings of nostalgia for somewhere I’d never been. The remainder of the day was spent wandering the city of arts and sciences, marveling at the intricate architecture and futuristic buildings. The reflection pool in the center was filled with bluest of waters and possessed such a mirror-like quality that I was pulled to step onto its idyllic surface and dance to my heart’s content. I settled for twirling and jeté-ing around the plaza until the valencia orange sunset rolled beyond the mountains and darkness blanketed every crevice of the town.
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