Weekending in Valencia
Weekend to remember
Benji Wilson happily loses himself in a city that refuses to
play second fiddle.
(Filed: 04/10/2004)
Valencia
basics
I went to Valencia because a friend told me that you could be
admiring a Goya at the Museo de Bellas Artes one minute, and be
on the beach, cerveza in hand, 10 minutes later.
It sounded like a more refined version of California, but with the
bonus that the two-hour flight was a third of the price.
As
it happened, in my two-day sojourn I never made it to the beach
as the waterfront is protected by a rampart of identical seafood
restaurants serving gargantuan paellas - which Valencians are
proud of inventing - and other local delicacies. After one of
these enormous platters and a bottle of rosé, I could barely
walk. It was also getting dark.
The beach did indeed look pristine and never-ending; however,
Spain's third-largest city has countless other things to
recommend it, and if you really want a beach holiday go to
Benidorm - it's only a couple of hours away.
"Benidorm" is one word best left unsaid in the presence of the
delightful Valencians. Two others are "Barcelona" and "Madrid".
You might also want to omit "Civil War" and "War of Spanish
Succession" if you don't want your tapas defiled, because on
both these historical occasions Valencia backed the wrong horse.
As a result, it has an inferiority complex, though this serves
visitors well: in a bid never to be outdone by Barcelona or
Madrid, Valencia is desperate to impress.
This I discovered almost as soon as I arrived. The road from the
airport follows the path of the River Turia, an impressive
waterway but dry since 1957, following catastrophic flooding.
Today, the riverbed is home to a science park, a brand new arts
centre, an aquarium and an Imax cinema that leers from an
artificial pond like an alien eyeball. They are stunning to
behold, a city-within-a-city of space-age structures, domes and
pods. Valencians are proud that their city now has several
certifiable "must-sees".
My
preferred way to enjoy a metropolis, though, is to assemble
every known guidebook, highlight all the "must-sees" and then
avoid them. So the Oceanografic and L'Hemisferic were all
admired from afar. I made a beeline for the oldest part of town
and endeavoured to lose my bearings.
A
mark of a good city is one where it is desirable to be lost. I
spent much of Friday afternoon ordering mystery tapas with a
mystery Rioja at mystery cantinas.
Luckily, Valencian taxis are cheap and plentiful, and the
central area is eminently walkable - all cobbled streets and
hidden plazas, a hotch-potch of architectural styles that is
testament to the tenures of the Romans, the Visigoths, the
Aragonese and particularly the Moors.
My
meanderings took me to La Lonja, a towering late-Gothic edifice
(it was not breaking my "must-see" rule because I stumbled on it
by accident). I came in to escape the mid-afternoon heat,
thinking it was a church or a convent.
In
fact, as the rows of desks suggest, La Lonja is an old silk
exchange where merchants would ply their wares in the 17th and
18th centuries, when Valencia was a major centre of commerce. As
a helpful guide told me, these days the chamber, with its high
vaulted ceilings and wrought-iron chandeliers, is used for stamp
fairs. Out the back there was a hidden garden with orange trees,
and I sat back and imagined what the silk merchants would have
thought of the stamp collectors.
"You
can't visit Valencia without tasting the Valencia water,"
several guidebooks insist. Wrong: I wish I had never gone near
the stuff. "Agua de Valencia" is a cocktail of orange juice,
cava and vodka, like a Bucks Fizz mixed by Satan's personal
barman.
I
noticed that few Valencians appeared to be drinking it as I
knocked back my third glass and chomped on patatas bravas. The
next morning, it felt as if the Spanish Armada had been launched
against my temple.
It
struck me then that even in mid-September it was still hot. In
high summer, the city would have been unbearable. My ever-voluble
waiter told me that spring and autumn were "definitely the best
time to visit. Another bottle sir?"
That night I headed for the busy Calle Caballeros, to take part
in a lively midnight promenade made up of young Valencians,
maniacal scooterists and the odd feral dog. As I stopped for a
cerveza in the marvellously Moorish Café dels Borgia (my "find"
for the weekend), Valencia felt like a more-manageable
Barcelona, and late nights in the city are worth staying up for.
On
Sunday I went to the Central Market, a vast vaulted sprawl of
stalls. To say that a home-made sandwich was the highlight of my
weekend sounds crass - but watching passers-by in the Plaza de
los Virgins next to the magnificent cathedral was a joy.
Especially when the Rollerblader fell over.
And what have I got to show for it? Well, Valencia is famous for
its ceramics: many of its signature buildings are topped with
blue tiles like earthenware safari hats. Very nice ceramics they
are too, as I discovered in the Museo Nacional de Cerámica. But
be aware that back in Britain, a wall-tile is a wall-tile. I am
now the proud possessor of 27 delightful "coasters" - the ones I
couldn't give away.
Valencia basics
Getting there
British Airways (0870 850 9850;
www.ba.com)
flies to Valencia from £98.50 return.
Staying there
Ad Hoc Hotel, Calle Boix 4, Valencia (0034 963 919140); doubles
from around £69.
Eating out
Café dels Borgia, Calle Caballeros 8, Barrio del Carmen.
For fantastic French/Spanish food, try Enoteca, on Calle
Vincente Iborra (963 152072).
What it cost for one
Return flight from Gatwick £98.50
Two nights' accommodation £130
Lunches and dinners £70
Museum admission £5
Taxis £30
Total £333.50
The original
article is at:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/main.jhtml?xml=/travel/2003/02/15/etvalen.xml
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