Another autumn morning brightened the kingdom, and it was time for Lewis and I to visit a different city.
King Felipe's realm has 3,084 miles of coastline, and much of it is made of white sand beaches. So, it was a perfect idea to see one. Transportation across the realm is supported by high-speed railways that are beautifully interconnected.
We checked out of our hotel and wheeled our luggage to the central station. We were surprised to see hordes of people wearing and waving Spanish flags. They were everywhere!
They emerged from Metro stations, and crowds got off from buses. We assumed that a football game was going to happen, and Spaniards showed their support for the home-team. We were wrong. (We discovered the cause later, and I'll tell you). It was perfect timing that we left Madrid because tourism was hampered by the overcrowding.
At the train station, we checked the Departures sign for our train to Valencia. Before our trip, we made an online purchase of two First Class tickets aboard one of Spain's renown high-speed trains. For an American to be able to use a high-speed train seems exotic, so we were excited! (America still fails to have truly high-speed trains, despite having the largest distances to travel). Two First Class tickets cost €99.60, and our journey included a full meal with unlimited beverages (including alcohol) that was brought to our big leather seats. That's a great value for a distance of 360 kilometers (224 miles).
We chose the state-owned railroad named Renee. It's high-speed service is provided by a fleet of trains named AVE (Alta Velocidad Espanola = Spanish High Velocity). AVE was created in 1992, and its fleet travels at 350 km/hr (217 mph), which is the fastest in the world. Every day, Spain has 96 high-speed trains covering its territory because it cares about people reaching their destinations quickly and comfortably. Only America and third-world countries are lagging behind hopelessly.
Two First Class tickets (including breakfast) cost €99.60. First Class tickets also entitle you to sit in the First Class Lounge at every train station. Every lounge freely provides bottled water, hot & cold beverages, pastries, fruit, snacks, computer work stations, conference rooms, leather armchairs, cafe tables, lavatories, newspapers, and they are always staffed by a few uniformed attendants. This is what it looks like at Atocha Central Station...
However, we misunderstood the numbers on our e-tickets. We assumed that the largest numbers were the departure time. But they were the boarding time. So—after receiving guidance from two Ticket Counters about where the track was—we went to the platform straightaway. Passengers must undergo a security screening and electronic "bag check". Perhaps that's because of Spain's proximity to Africa where numerous people flee from or try to smuggle things to/from. Next, we were astonished to see an entire room full of people. For some peculiar reason, the train staff made all passengers for every train wait inside the Departure Hall. As the minutes passed, more people hurried to arrive and looked askance at the unusual delay.
Six trains were parked by platforms, and the boarding time passed, yet the doors of the hall remained shut, and employees stood in from of them (but, of course, they looked away from the pensive crowd). We overheard other foreigners gasp that they were being made late for their departure times, and we heard Spaniards explain to them that those "times" were actually the boarding times. That's how we learned. (Spain should make the tickets easier to comprehend, and we mentioned that in the survey that they emailed us). Moments before the departure time, the unknown issues got resolved.
Our tickets told us which coach to go to, and our seat numbers were already reserved. A pretty attendant stood at every coach to welcome passengers and get them acclimated. Ours had a well-tailored uniform, with a colorful scarf and perfect cosmetics. Equally nice was that our First Class coach was closest to the station.
The train's appearance outclasses anything in the vast USA.
For comparison, America's state-run railroad is Amtrak. Its trains are drab and outdated with pollutive diesel engines, but Amtrak doesn't care.
The most expensive train in America is Amtrak's Acela, but it looks like an outdated commuter train, with boxy Soviet-looking seats...
Considering that it costs quadruple what we paid, we prefer all of the trains that we rode in Asian and Europe!
Since Spain in a civilized country, its trains are equipped with Cafe Cars for everyone. It's real food, too... not just a bag of chips and stale hot dogs. This is what the Cafe Car looked like...
In addition to that, First Class travelers have a seasonal menu of food delivered to them.
Nestled in our oversized leather seats—with our suitcases stowed overhead and coats hung on hooks—we plugged our phones into the charging sockets and logged into the free WiFi. We loved the spacious legroom.
Punctually, the train glided out of the station with the motionless movement of a Rolls Royce. Wonderful! It accelerated quietly, without the shudders and clanking noises that occur on American trains that struggle to exceed 80 mph—but cost twice as much. (To avoid the truth, America's Amtrak corporation claims that its trains can reach 150-miles-per-hour... but that can only occur on 50 miles of the 457 miles. It rarely occurs.
Renfe carried us 360 kilometers in 2 hours. If Amtrak ever went as fast as it could, it could only travel 360 kilometers in 2 hours and 45 minutes. But Amtrak is limited by low-tech trains and outdated infrastructure, so it usually moves at only 70 mph (110 kmh), causing the journey to require 3.5 hours. For a nation as large as the USA, it's unforgivably imbecilic to lack high-speed trains in 2023. What are those buffoons waiting for? The worst insult to travelers is the cost; the price of that slow journey is $206-270! That is four-times as expensive! In Spain, we had a vastly superior journey and the First Class ticket only cost $50! Travelers in America must pay 4 or 5-times the price for the "privilege" of using crappy American trains.
We zoomed across rolling pastures and shot over highways. Our train crossed the Continental Divide, where water either flows to the Atlantic Ocean or Mediterranean Sea. The scenery was bucolic: vineyards, farms, untainted forests, wind turbine farms, and rustic medieval villages perched on hilltops.
In the USA, scenery along railroad tracks is usually neglected and overloaded with trash, discarded construction debris, vandalized abandoned buildings, and high-intensity electricity towers.
Our rail journey was superb.
Within 20 minutes, we crossed the border into the territory named Castilla-La Mancha.
Our coach was staffed by two smiley women who routinely checked with each passenger to see if anything was desired. After we got seated, they carried trays and offered everyone a glass of juice and a chilled bottle of water. At mealtime, they maneuvered a trolley through our coach and served food.
Our breakfast consisted of our choice of croissants and rolls (served from a bread basket), non-GMO butter and jam, bottled water, juice, tea, fruit salad, a quiche with roasted vegetables, and a chocolate. We used real utensils.
The ladies also provided second-servings of croissants, rolls, juice, and coffee. In my photo below, notice the "cup holder".
Compare that to the crappy food on Acela, which is provided by industrialized conglomerates: sugar, soda, and corn syrup.
Our attendants offered an unlimited supply of wine, sparkling wine, gin, vodka, mezcal, whiskey, vermouth, and brandy. We chose Spain’s world-famous sparkling, which is named Cava. After recent years of investment, Cava is now produced similarly to Champagne from France.
Due to its high elevation of 650 meters (2,130 feet), Madrid is the second-highest capital in Europe. Our train descended like a jet towards the coastline and rolled to a dignified stop in a city that touched the Mediterranean Sea. We arrived in the Cataluña (Catalonia) Region, and we disembarked at a glorious metropolis named Valencia.
Valencia is a beachfront city, but it is also a grand city with elegant boulevards, manicured parks, and tree-lined streets. It's renowned for its richly-ornate architectural art. It touches the sea with a wide expanse of beaches. (After our hotel, those were our first destinations).
The city is one of the oldest in Spain because it was founded 2,100 years ago as a colony of the Roman Empire. Its name is the Latin word for "valor". The Fall of Rome caused a vacuum of power. Then, Christianity was monopolized by the Roman Catholic Church, and its officials became power-brokers. In 714, Arabs invaded and spread their Islamic culture. The city was renamed Balansiyya. In 1238, King James of Aragon sieged the city and elevated its territory to the Kingdom of Valencia: a constituent nation within the Kingdom of Aragon (a.k.a. the Crown of Aragon).
Unfortunately, a plague named the Black Death devastated it in 1348. The 1400s brought a Golden Age of commerce, and Valencia became one of the most influential places in the Mediterranean! Wealth from the “discovery of the Americas” was blocked from it because the Crown of Castile had a Pope-approved monopoly. The War of Spanish Succession ended Valencia’s independence because it supported the loser. It was seized by the new king in Madrid: Philip V. Thankfully, he spread humane ideals during the Age of Enlightenment. When France’s Emperor Napoleon invaded in 1808, Valencia rose mightily against his Imperial Army. After fighting bravely for four years, the Valencians were defeated. Napoleon’s brother, Joseph, became the King of Spain and made Valencia its capital in 1812. Like many of Napoleon’s victories, it was short-lived, and the French were repelled out of Valencia in 1813. (*Trivia: By 1802, Napoleon ruled France. In 1803, America inadvertently supported him via the Louisiana Purchase to expand its borders. Alas, that was negotiated without the Native American tribes who lived there. For 45 years, US courts removed many tribes from their lands).
That year, King Ferdinand VII returned to Spain from exile and retook the Crown—but he kept his royal court in Valencia. From there, he decreed the ruthless repression of his people, in obedience of the final wave of Catholic Inquisitions and farcical Witchcraft Trials. (For several centuries, Catholicism behaved in ungodly ways because its goals were religious conformity and the persecution of intelligent women, homosexuals, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, African slaves, other forms of Christianity, and polytheistic cultures. Witch Trials in Spain began in 1525, and were spread to the Spanish Netherlands, Portugal, and to Spain's overseas territories: Mexico, Florida, Kansas, Alabama, Peru, Venezuela, Colombia, and Brazil).
The bourgeoise encouraged gentrification of the city. Gas lighting was installed in 1840, and a public water network was completed in 1850. Railroads were laid in the 1910s.
The City of Valencia is the capital of the region. Its anthem is retained from the 1500s. Its flag and coat of arms includes the heraldry of King Peter IV of Aragon.
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Most trains arrive at the central station: Valencia Nord...
...but AVE trains go to a separate station that is slightly south of it. The walk between them requires 10 minutes. The station is named Valencia Joquin Sorolla. As you might guess, it's named for the famous artist who was born there. Unflatteringly, it looks like a Costco Store.
I noticed a Visitor Center inside the station. The woman "upgraded" our intention for a Transit Pass to spend more and buy a Visitor Pass because it also gave free admission to many attractions and discounts at others. Each Visitor Pass cost $25 for a validity of 72 hours—activated upon usage.
We rolled our suitcases over the clunky stone-paved sidewalk towards the main station, so we could use the #5 Metro. An unhelpful policeman didn't seem to understand our request for directions, spoke in uncertain English, and pointed in the wrong direction. We found the Metro station, and we used its (clean) elevator to the platform. All trains share the same route in the city-center, so we took the next train (which came in one minute) to Colon Station. That might sound amusing to English-speakers until you know that it's not pronounced like the body-part; it's pronounced like the German city of Cologne.
Metro trains have only one significant design flaw. Transit maps and digital screens are above the doors, but seated passengers cannot see the digital screens that announce upcoming station because it is blocked by a metal bar!
But, they have garbage bins, which never exist in NYC. (NYC's subway is the dirtiest in the world and needs them, but the city doesn't care). Valencia's is very tidy.
Colon Station looked outdated from 1989 with a hideous green color and dim lighting.
Handsome buildings lined the streets towards our hotel. The city is a showcase of precious architectural styles, with a significant showing of Art Nouveau.
The temperature was warmer than Madrid: 84-degrees. But, coastal breezes kept the city balmy and pleasant. Once again, we noticed a disparity of attire: some people wore sweaters, tweeds, and pants, while others wore shorts and short-sleeve shirts.
Thanks to the heat, we also saw shirtless guys.
We noticed a profusion of orange trees: lining the streets, giving shade at bus stops, and adding color to plazas. Valencia's climate is ideal for citrus fruits, and it's renown for oranges. Alas, the trees drop their fruit on the pavement.
Thankfully, sanitation workers remove them quickly to prevent vermin. We were surprised that people didn't take them home as free food. Someone informed us that those oranges are bitter—similar to lemons—so they are ignored. Municipal workers use modern machinery to collect the loose oranges, and companies make marmalade with them.
We checked-in to the SoHo Turia Hotel, located on a leafy street that was dotted with historic-styled lampposts. The street was named for the Royal Court Engraver named Rafael Esteve from 1799. The hotel is in an area named Pla del Remei, which is one of the most exclusive. We were only 3oo meters from the Turia Gardens. The 4-star boutique hotel had a stately façade, and its angular shape created a rear courtyard.
Armando was the jovial gentleman who greeted us at the Front Desk. He was born in Madrid and likes Valencia's warmth and proximity to the Mediterranean Sea.
While getting acquainted, Lewis said that he works in Manhattan's posh neighborhood named SoHo, and Armando was intrigued to learn more. His interest waned when Lewis described the unstopped crime sprees that plague the area since 2020: vandalism, looting, shoplifting, and daytime robberies. Hearing evidence of NYC's bloated cops being lax, he remarked that police in Spain would curtail the crime swiftly.
The historic building retains its lovely curvaceous staircase—full of wrought-iron spindles with geometric shapes and topped with a smoothly-joined wooden banister.
We rode the cozy-sized (yet modern) elevator up to the third level. (Remember, in Europe, the main level is “Zero”. So, rooms on the third level are labelled as “Two” because they are only two above the main level). We had a superb room, with a queen-sized bed, wood floor, suede chairs, electric teapot, Nespresso machine, spacious closet with wooden hangers, and a spotless bathroom. An archway gave separation to the sitting area that overlooked the courtyard. The city’s low skyline ensured that our room received abundant sunshine. Seen in the photo below, our towels were rolled in creative shapes and placed on our bed, and chocolates were put on our pillows.
Our double-size room cost €391.50 for 3 nights, and we booked it through Booking.com, which rewarded Lewis with a discount and a monetary credit towards his next booking.
Using the Wi-Fi, we navigated to the seashore. When you’re in a seaside city, you must visit its shoreline. Returning to Colón Station, we rode the Metro to its eastern terminus. That station was designed to allow transfers to the trams, so we merely had to cross through automated gates to the other side of the platform, where the tram tracks were. Together, those rail systems get folks around the city and reduce vehicle traffic.
We waited less than one minute for a tram on the #6 route.
We got aboard, and it trundled through the curvy streets—past orange trees that dropped their fruit on the ground—to a marina.
Alas, Google Maps misdirected us again with more inaccurate information. How can that American conglomerate be satisfied with itself when it deliberately fails to offer accuracy?! Look at the images below. First, their version of the tram route is pathetically inaccurate: no tram routes have zig-zag lines like that!
Next, you’ll notice that it erroneously misnamed the Cabanyal station (near the park) as La Marina.
So, when the tram got to the real La Marina, we exited. We didn't know that we were at the wrong stop, so we wandered around being confused about why the landscape/streets didn’t seem correct. Annoyed with Google for the millionth time, we retraced our steps to the tram stop and got on the next tram.
We finally arrived at the correct place, and we crossed two streets to reach the beach. Valencia has several beaches that connect but are used for different activities. Unlike the coastal cities in Florida (that Spain conquered in 1513), Valencia has very few restaurants on its beaches. *To see our trip to Miami and Fort Lauderdale in Florida, please use this link: https://halfwindsorfullthrottle.blogspot.com/2016/07/our-trip-to-ft-lauderdale-part-1-of-4.html
Thankfully, the beachfront was pristine, and the “boardwalk” promenade was tidy for pedestrians and cyclists. People played volleyball, sunbathed, bought ice cream, cruised for playmates, scanned the sand for seashells, and a few went swimming. Peddlers roamed the beaches trying to sell beach-blankets.
The water is clear and beautiful!
After the delightful scenery, Lewis and I entered El Trompo Paella House for “lunch by the sea”! Lewis has a penchant for paella, and we earmarked Valencia as the place to have it because it originated there.
The restaurant was nearly full, and a soft-spoken waiter let us choose whichever table we wanted. Lewis picked a deuce near the sand. Enjoy his panoramic video of our view...
Just as we sat, the restaurant activated its retractable roof so that we could see through the glass ceiling! Perfect timing! (They do that after the sun moves away from its highest/hottest position). Customers sipped wine or espresso, and tourists stirred their sangria. We drank sangria and bottled water. Everybody munched on seafood. Waves sloshed rhythmically against the shore, and breezes fluttered the palm trees. Idyllic!
Lewis was intent on eating paella! It was invented in Valencia by farm laborers. That is why the original recipe lacks seafood; its creators only had vegetables, snails, and rabbit meat. The seafood version was prepared by the seashore, including squid, prawns, and mussels. The yellowish tint to the rice comes from saffron or turmeric, and black rice is colored with squid ink. When Muslims settled in Spain in the 900s, they cultivated rice as a bountiful crop. (They got rice from the rulers of India's Mughal Empire, who adopted it from Asian nations).
The paella necessitated 20 minutes to prepare—and that’s an indicator of fresh-made quality. In the meantime, Lewis ordered gambas (shrimp) baked in a clay pot, and a platter of sautéed/seasoned mushrooms.
After being cooked over a fire, our paella was served in a wide iron skillet that sizzled deliciously. The edges of the rice were perfectly browned, and the rice was properly dry (and thin against the pan). It tasted great. Every forkful and spoonful was lovely!
Eating paella is popular at lunchtime because it nourishes you for your upcoming activities. Americans may be bewildered by that logic. Americans often feel rushed (from workloads) to gobble small lunches.
Later, they overeat huge dinners before sitting idle for hours watching videos online and television, followed by high-calorie desserts (from industrialized factories) before they sleep.
People should avoid such unhealthy habits, but Americans continue to do them... yet remain bewildered about why obesity and digestive illnesses increase rampantly in the USA.
Fueled for the day, we ambled along the boardwalk to admire men in swimsuits, and we returned to the tram stop.
Within two minutes, a #4 tram came.
We rode to Ponte De Fusta.
I chose that place because it allowed us to enter the historic city-center through one of the medieval-era City Gates (from when Valencia was a walled city from the 1200s to 1800s).
The tall gates are named Torres de Serranos. During their creation in 1392, the city was positioned against the crescent-shaped Turia River to provide extra protection against invaders. During the Middle Ages, Serranos Bridge was built across the river, and it guided people to the massive City Gate. The bridge and the City Gate are still there!
However, in the 1950s, the river flooded the city, so it was permanently drained to prevent future damage of ancient buildings. The riverbed was repurposed as a huge park, which hugs the city with recreational space: bike paths, hiking trails, pedestrian walkways, shaded picnic areas, skateparks, athletic areas, sports clubs, and football fields (only America call it soccer).
We enjoyed walking on the old bridge and imagined the centuries of travelers who came before us.
Looming ahead was the City Gate. Its grandiosity remains intact!
From there, we let Fate steer us through the meandering streets—full of irregular dimensions, narrowness, and quirky curves. All of the streets were very clean. Seen below is my panoramic video of a plaza named Placa de la Verge. The gurgling fountain was pretty...
By then, it was the perfect time for an afternoon snack. Before our trip, Simón said to visit a certain coffeeshop and a specific sweetshop. They are near each other on a curvy lane that is only for pedestrians.
El Café de Camilo is a great coffeeshop is a cozy space that looks like it was a medieval market-stall. It has enough space for the barista's gadgetry, lots of coffee beans, and two customers at a time.
Most customers come for a shot of espresso, linger momentarily at the counter, and then depart. Two standing-tables are outside to sip-and-linger at. While we were there, an old woman arrived with her cart of groceries. She puffed a cigarette, gossiped humorously with the barista, sipped a coffee, and then headed home. Lewis and I requested a pair of espressos, which were robust and delicious! Lewis dislikes bitter coffee, so he was very pleased. The best part was the immense value: each espresso only cost €1.10! Tips are not expected.
Before we moved to the sweetshop, we noticed a sock shop across from us: Socks & Company. The cotton socks are proudly made in Spain. Even nicer, they are offered in a range of shoe-sizes (instead of Small, Medium, Large). That is evocative of pricey supplier, but each pair of socks only cost €6.67. They offered a discount of three pairs for €20.00. We got three: mine have Valencian oranges and images of the Panda Bears that we didn't see in Madrid. (When I wear those, I'll reminisce of seeing Pandas in Berlin, instead)!
From there, we moved onward for sweets! Around a bend in the lane, we entered a Horchateria named Santa Catalina. It specializes in fartons and horchata. (You buy horchata at a horchateria). It is quite pretty.
After tasting its gentle sweetness, you wouldn’t expect that horchata is a plant-based drink. In Mexico, it is made from softened rice, but Spain uses a classic recipe of Tiger Nuts that are pulverized and soaked overnight. The nuts are rich in fiber and nutrients that aid digestion. They make a milky-white drink that we loved.
It’s delicious! Muy Sabroso!
Naturally, we ordered the tradition food to accompany the drinks. Seen below, a fartón is a classic sweet treat from Valencia. Yes, English speakers think the name is funny.
It's shaped like an eclair, and it's glazed. They are never allowed to have preservatives or artificial colors. The puffy dough is perfect for dunking in horchata. If churros are intended to be dipped in hot chocolate, then fartóns are the companion to chilled horchata. That is the rule.
Each drink cost 3.50 Euros, and each farton cost 1.20. Nice! No tip was needed.
After hours in the city, Lewis and I detected that locals spoke with a unique accent. In the Catalonia Region, people speak a different language named Catalan. It is not a dialect of Castilian. (Similarly, Cantonese is different than Mandarin in China). Road signs and transportation signs are printed in Catalan and Castilian, but many other signs are only written in Catalan. With his accent from Madrid, Simón pronounces Valencia as “Valenthia”, but people who speak Catalan pronounce the city as "Valencia". The language began in the ninth century as an adaptation of Latin. During the Middle Ages, it achieved sophistication throughout the Mediterranean regions, and Valencia became the sociocultural center of the Crown of Aragon. Many Valencians are bilingual to know both languages of their country (and many speak English, as a third). In Catalan, Lewis' name is "Lluís". My named doesn't translate, so it remained as "Kenneth"; it originated with ancient Gaels to mean "handsome lord born of fire". "Lewis" has Frankish-Germanic origins to mean "loot-carrying warrior".
As evening arrived, we meandered through the medieval lanes that were perfectly bright and well-kept. In NYC, we would be hesitant to use narrow lanes (and ones behind buildings) because of filth, vermin, and thugs. In Valencia (like Madrid), they were fine to use—and convenient. It’s great when infrastructure is maintained.
After walking 6.4 miles, we were ready for dinnertime! Fortunately, our hotel was merely two streets from the Mercado de Colón. Simón said it was definitely worth going to for late-evening food because it's in the trendy area named Canovas. Built in 1914, the food market is a brilliant example of Art Nouveau architecture, and it's perfectly maintained. It makes you happy to be in it.
Downstairs, we liked the sleek appearance of Ma Khin Cafe, so we dined there.
It offered recipes from Spain’s colonization and ownership of the Philippines. (King Philip II conquered the Philippines in 1565, making Spain the first globe-spanning empire, but the Filipinos disliked Spain's imposed religion, overtaxation, and cruelty. In 1898, Spain sold the Philippines to the USA. Yes, America purchased a country. Yet, America didn't allow it to have freedom—despite "freedom" being America's motto. Uncaring that Filipinos suffered centuries of "ownership", the USA imposed "martial law" and labelled protestors as "war rebels and traitors", and it massacred thousands. Even during World War Two—as America decreed that monarchies and imperialism must fail—it kept the Philippines but pretended to be "preparing it for eventual independence". Independence occurred in 1946, but the USA kept its military bases there and imposed trade quotas until 1992).
The restaurant was nearly full: many young couples, groups of beer-drinking men, and a long table of office coworkers. All tables have views of the open-kitchen, and we watched the five chefs working in synchronized efficiency. A handsome older man was our waiter, and his apron said that his name was Xavier.
Our tasty meal totaled €91.00, and no tip was desired.
When we left, the market was still bustling with people; some merely crossed through it on their way to somewhere else. Many restaurants remained full, and the horchateria was very busy. We loved the short distance of only two streets to return to our hotel. Night draped itself over the city, and we slept.
Hasta mañana! Join us in the next part...
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