Valencia: Come for the Paella, Stay for the Olives

The scene: I'm working in Amsterdam for the summer. I've got some days off. I need a break from the Dutch (no offense but en masse, you guys can work a nerve).  My friend casually mentions that she is thinking of going to Valencia, Spain.

Suddenly, I was dreaming of good food, affordable prices and a proper beach (again no offense but the ice bath that you call the North Sea is in no way beach-like). My flight was booked before my friend could even realize I had invited myself. 

It was a short stay (3 days/ 2 nights) but every second of it was absolutely worth it. Instead of my usual "try to cram everything in" approach to travel, we adopted a more casual Spanish outlook. Meaning we strolled aimlessly through the old town.

And we ate. A lot. Stepping into the Mercado Central, Europe's largest fresh produce market, was not about just sampling local delicacies. It was an opportunity to daydream about what my life would be like if I lived here and could do my weekly shopping in this magical place. I loved seeing the old ladies greeting the vendors by name and catching up on the latest gossip. 

We got a little taste of this (pun completely intended) at the olive stand. My friend, Virginia, befriended the olive man, who ruined me for life. I know this sounds dramatic but hear me out. I love olives, they are truly one of my favorite snacks. Look in my fridge at any given time and I have at least a couple of jars. This man, with all the charm in the world, offered us what he called 'the best olives you'll ever taste'. Sure, I'm all about a free sample. But damn if he wasn't right. Marinated in a proprietary olive oil blend, they were unreal. We got a pound from him and finished them before we even made it back to the hostel. We reworked our entire schedule for day two just so we could go back and buy more olives. And now, I'm supposed to go through life with just ordinary non-Valencian olives. The injustice of it all...

It wasn't all eating, though. Right across from the market was the UNESCO World Heritage Silk Exchange. This Gothic building was a major center of trade in the 15th century, specializing in- you guessed it-silk. We had a tour guide tell us this was the terminus of the Silk Road, which got me super giddy since I'd just spent a couple of weeks following that very route through Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan. I've since looked into the claim and it doesn't appear to be true but it is still very much worth a visit.

Not only is the building itself gorgeous, it looks like the sculptors were given a lot of creative freedom when it came to the carvings. 

Not every day you see a gargoyle sticking his penis into a jar...

All those horny gargoyles got us thirsty, so we had no choice but to take a break at Esquinita Mia, an Argentinian place with Spanish tapas and more importantly, homemade Agua de Valencia. Although "agua" or water is in the name, this drink has everything but. It is a mix of cava, vodka, gin and fresh orange juice and when made right, it is delicious!

Refreshed, we were ready to visit another major landmark, the Cathedral of Valencia. The 13th century church was built on the remains of a Roman temple turned Moorish mosque and is also a UNESCO site. 

In addition to its famed artwork (including paintings by Maella and Goya) and its multitude of architectural styles, the cathedral has an interesting claim to fame. It is alleged that the Holy Grail (of Indiana Jones fame) is housed therein. I don't know if the actual cup used by Jesus during the last supper is literally sitting on an alter in Valencia but I admire them for taking the widest swing possible with this brag. 

For things more easily provable, we took a bus over to the futuristic-looking City of Arts and Sciences. While we didn't have enough time to visit the science museum or the aquarium, we did get to watch an IMAX-type film about species diversity in the Amazon Jungle. The film was meh but the complex itself was pretty iconic.

By this point, it was almost 9pm and it had been at least two hours since we last ate or drank. This was a problem best solved at Malvarrosa Beach, while watching the sunset and eating the last of the olives.

Day two was full of plans but as I mentioned earlier, those were derailed in the service of replenishing the  olives. Instead we put in a stop at the City Hall, where we may have tried to crash a private event.

Having failed to infiltrate Valencian high society, we asked our olive selling friend what we should do with the rest of our day. He suggested we visit the village of El Palmar. Located within the coastal wetlands of La Albufera National Park, it is known primarily for one thing: paella. The world famous dish originated in Valencia, although it was originally made with rabbit and snails. More specifically, it began in the rice paddies of El Palmar. 

Our friend made a couple of calls and we soon had reservations at El Rek, the go-to spot for paella. As a vegetarian, I wasn't sure I would have anything to eat but I'm always up for an adventure. I worried for nothing because even though the veg version needed to be pre-ordered, the waiter made it happen. 

Our friend also called his buddy, Tio Pastilla, which translates roughly to Uncle Pill, or if you are from Miami, Uncle Roofie. Hmm. This was a little worrisome but Uncle Roofie had a boat and offered tours of the wetlands. Again, anything for an adventure.

For the second time, my concerns went unrealized and the tour was actually quite nice and involved zero druggings. 

Virginia needed to be in Madrid so she left early while I hung out in El Palmar for a bit before returning to Valencia. On this final night, I was drawn to one particular bar. I'm not sure why...

Why not just call it Berti's Bar.

I had no agenda. I was just happy to traipse around on this perfect night and wound up at the Plaza de la Virgen.

I figured it was my last night, so I might as well enjoy one last beer, some last Valencian olives and the fact that no one sounded like a cat coughing up a fur ball. (Again, no offense).