Tomorrow, I leave the apartment I’ve been renting in Valencia for the past four weeks. Yes, I’m a bit sad, as this has become like home. Since I started my wandering life four months ago, this has been my most extended stay in one place.
What will I miss most? The sounds.
There is a daycare center nearby. On weekdays, I hear the children playing and laughing.
There is a church in the distance whose bells ring at off times. I find it delightful that no one has bothered to fix them.
People talking in the street. (Okay, not the 3:00 AM conversations.) Sometimes I hear the excitement in their voices.
Music from the church across the street. It is a relatively new church without a bell tower. On Sundays, Mass is offered several times a day. I love hearing the hymns.
The cars and busses on the boulevard around the corner. I think about everyone headed here and there, to work, to school, and home for lunch.
I have never felt lonely in this apartment because so much is happening around me.
The Avenue around the corner form my Valencia apartment
What else will I miss?
Francisco (Frank), my neighborhood produce guy. He always strikes up a friendly conversation when I stop in. I went down to say goodbye to him this morning. (He opens until 2:00 on Sundays since the supermarket is closed.) He teared up a bit. I think I did, too.
The ability to walk to so many beautiful places. I have never lived centrally located in a major city. Within a twenty-minute walk, I could visit many of the significant sights in Valencia, from the city center to the Arts and Sciences area and from the train station to several parks. Aside from that, I could easily get on a bus to the beach or a metro to places further out.
Valencia’s Central ParkOctober sunshine in Valencia’s Central Park
I’m really not a city person. Maybe that’s why I have embraced the change.
View of la Plaza Redonda from Torres de QuartMonfort Garden
When you travel for several weeks, or in my case, months at a time, there is a certain pressure to go and see things every day. After all, I’m in a new city, state, or country; I can’t just sit around and read a book all day. There is always some downtime in the evenings—usually required due to aching feet—which is certainly welcome. But I absolutely treasure days when I have no particular agenda.
My days in Valencia are numbered. Today is Thursday, and I leave Monday morning. You might think I would be rushing around to see and do things before I go, but I’ve been here for almost a month. I have seen much and don’t feel any pressure to see or do more. I do need to do some shopping, but that’s it. I can get to that later.
One of my favorite features of the Valencia apartment: the tiny balcony
So today, I’m enjoying the ultimate leisurely morning.
I love breakfast. I wake up starving every day. Believe me, I consider myself lucky to have a strong metabolism at my age. (By the way, my dream man would wake up just a bit earlier than I and serve me a splendid offering of fruit, tea, and an omelet. That’s not asking too much, is it?)
Today, I got up, put on the tea water, peeled a Mandarin orange, and took some blueberries out of the frig. So, here’s the quirky part: I eat my fruit and drink my tea first. Then, ideally, I wait thirty minutes or so to eat breakfast, part two, the omelet, or whatever I’m craving that morning. (Today’s consisted of bacon, mushroom, and avocado with a small slice of Spanish tortilla on the side.) Then I finished with a second cup of tea, my vitamins, and a small piece of chocolate. I guess that’s another quirk. Dark chocolate is my coffee replacement.
I also ran a load of laundry at one point and will get into my morning yoga routine after I finish writing.
It may be noon before I get out the door. But I remind myself that I’m free. I’m no longer tied to the intense schedule of a classroom teacher. As my friend the produce man said, I’m “living.” I get to choose how to spend my days. And I cherish each one of them.
I went into the city that afternoon to buy a new suitcase and boots.
Today I arrived back at my apartment in Valencia after spending a couple of days in Madrid with a friend who was visiting over the past two weeks. Returning to a place that feels like home after being so busy playing tour guide was a relief. I had a free afternoon to do whatever I wanted. My friend here in Valencia, who recently moved here full-time from the US, had suggested that I spend as much time as possible walking around the city to get a feel for streets and neighborhoods. Now that I have been to almost every church, museum, park, and cultural monument in the city, I can slow down and stroll around these last few days before continuing north. I decided to walk down some streets in the local Ruzafa (Russafa) neighborhood. I stopped at a clothing shop and picked up a nightgown for later in the journey when I will meet up with an old friend for a couple of weeks. It was fun to walk into, rather than by, one of those local clothing shops that sells cotton granny panties, bras, pajamas, and bathrobes. The woman asked what size, and I said, “medium?” She asked if it was for me, and I confirmed (in Spanish, of course). She agreed that medium would be fine and showed me five options with short and long sleeves in my size. I picked a long-sleeved cotton one that was a bargain at ten euros.
I then spotted Saint Valero and San Vicente church just behind the Ruzafa Market. I had never ventured beyond the market because every time before, my hands were full of groceries, and I needed to get them home. It’s a lovely old church, and I sure wish it had been open. I wonder if it is the church whose bells ring at the wrong time all day long.
As I continued toward the apartment, I walked by more shops and restaurants that were local hangouts. I can see why Ruzafa (Russafa) has become a popular place to live. It’s close to downtown, but not too close, and still has that cozy neighborhood feel. Far from perfect and polished, yet welcoming.
As I sit here typing, those familiar bells ring in the distance. It’s 8:23, right on time.
Today my friend and I went up to Port Sapalaya. It’s a coastal community just north of Valencia, where the houses are built along canals. It’s known as the “Venice of Valencia.” Indeed, someone had a clever idea in creating it. The residents can safely store their boats alongside their homes and cruise out to enjoy the Mediterranean in minutes. Some houses are two- or three-story while others are pisos or one-level apartments.
We enjoyed our stroll through the neighborhood and took in the beauty of flowers blooming in October.
Then it was time to find some lunch. Since we’re now into the off-season, the restaurant wasn’t crowded. We struggled to communicate with the non-English-speaking waiter because the online menu was stuck in English; I couldn’t get it to flip over to Spanish to place the order. An older couple from the table next to us stood up to help. They spoke a bit of English, and I ensured we were getting what we wanted for lunch. I thought the two of them must have been the restaurant’s owners or managers.
My friend wanted to try a glass of the amber-colored rosé that was on the table, but it was only available by the bottle. They offered red or white wine by the glass. Since they didn’t have any gluten-free beer, and they were trying to talk us into a bottle, I said, “Sure, why not?” Neither of us is a big drinker; we hadn’t yet splurged on drinks.
The funny thing was that the server brought a completely different bottle of wine to the table. My friend was initially disappointed because she wanted to try the other wine. The manager said that we could try it, and they would take it back if we didn’t like it. It was delicious, a little sweet, but light. Perfect for a warm afternoon at the beach.
Seeing that we were happy, our hostess began to chat with us, in Spanish, of course! (My friend doesn’t speak Spanish.) Our hostess told us how we needed to enjoy our retirement years because who knows how many years we have left? Her advice was to get up every morning, give yourself a virtual kiss, and say that you are a princess. In the evening, you must go out, drink wine, dance, and “brin-brin.” (I’m still not exactly sure what brin-brin means, but I felt like it meant to sparkle.) She kept talking and talking. Would she leave before our food arrived?
Finally, she said she needed to go prepare our food and left. Clearly, she wasn’t the chef because she found another table to chat up.
She was 77 years old and looked like she was in her 50s. Maybe we should all heed her advice.
We enjoyed our leisurely seafood lunch and sipped that delicious wine in the afternoon sun. Afterward, we strolled down the beach to the city beach of Valencia. The wind picked up, and the clouds came in as we walked, creating artful skies. It even sprinkled a bit, a glorious afternoon!
This picture has nothing to do with this post except that it’s in Valencia, Spain.
This morning I walked to the Ruzafa market to pick up the produce on my list and maybe a little meat. (I wanted to have an abundance of food on hand for my friend who is arriving this afternoon.) It was 10:00, but it was quiet for a Wednesday. Some shops were closed, and others were open. Hm…
When I reached the market, I remembered that today was a national holiday. Not to worry—I have enough food on hand. I stopped at a little health food store/bakery and got some avocados. They didn’t have much gluten-free stuff, but there were some interesting items, and the woman working there was friendly. Finally, I checked to see if the Consum grocery store was open. Nope.
On my street, there is a small fruit and vegetable shop. I stopped there the evening I arrived, and the owner scared me off a bit. I had forgotten eggs at the grocery store and was going to grab a half dozen from him. They seemed expensive—2.20 euros. I only had a 20, and he didn’t have the correct change. I didn’t have anything smaller. He told me to take the eggs, and I could pay him later. His delivery was a bit abrupt, though, and I got nervous. I decided to go without the eggs until the next day.
So, the veggie man’s shop was the only other place where I could pick up some produce today. I walked in and grabbed a lemon and some bananas. Then he asked if I wanted any spinach. Oh, he’s hiding some vegetables in the back! I asked if he had broccoli. He opened a refrigerator, and there were two beautiful broccoli crowns. Forget the spinach.
Then he asked where I was from and how long I would be staying in Valencia. We talked about the differences between the US and Spain. He understood that it was more stressful to live in the US. In fact, he brought it up. I told him I had visited Spain several times and studied here twice. Then he grabbed his map from the top drawer and suggested places to see on the Mediterranean Coast. Very kind of him! He also complimented my Spanish and thought it was great that I was “living” and enjoying my travels. Who needs the big market? The veggie man just got a new customer.
I’m truly enjoying my time in Valencia despite my aching feet. Since visiting with the Spanish family last weekend, I have probably been thinking too much about where I want to live when I return next year. In fact, I’m a bit obsessed. I keep researching smaller towns in eastern Spain. Then I look at the real estate sites. But do I really want to live in a small town? Won’t I get bored? Would I have social life? Is there a city that is big enough but not too big? If I were closer to the mountains, I could ski…
Valencia’s Botanical Garden
Then I worry about Valencia being too noisy for me. In some ways, I like the noise. I never feel entirely alone. Other neighborhoods would be quieter, though. I like the botanical garden. What if I could get an apartment that backs on the garden? That would be sweet!
My friends talked about the possibility of finding an area that was accessible by metro on the outskirts of the city. But again, I don’t want to live in the suburbs, and when people visit, they want to see the city.
Now, do you understand what I’ve been going through? I know. It has to be where I want to live. Don’t choose your home based on potential visitors.
How many Airbnb’s have a bookcase like this?
I fell in love with this apartment the moment I walked in. It has super-high ceilings, over ten feet, more like twelve. The desk sits in front of the “wall of windows.” I love the natural daylight, but I have the privacy of frosted and colored glass. Throughout the apartment, the walls are bright white with sparse décor. It’s clean and happy without being cluttered. The preserved original tile mosaic floors are charming, as are many other details in this turn-of-the-century home. I couldn’t imagine a better place to write. And the built-in bookcase has some interesting reading material. It would be great if the owner were willing to lease it to me at a lower rate for a longer term.
Sometimes the Universe, God, or our higher power hears us. Yesterday, I received a message from my host:
Hi Shannon.
Hope you are well, I wanted to ask you because I thought I understood that you wanted to stay longer in Valencia (maybe you were thinking of staying a year, or am I wrong?).
I mention it because I’m interested in long-term rentals and you might be interested in staying at my house longer.
We then proceeded to message back and forth. Me with questions and he with answers. He’s looking at the numbers and has promised to get back to me with a price and terms. I’ll stop obsessing for a while.
January 24, 2023
By the time my month-long stay in Valencia had ended, I had come to an important realization. I’m not ready to settle in one spot—adventure is what I want now.
Cape Sagres, Portugal
When my host got back to me with a number, I had already decided to continue my wandering life. There’s so much more of the world that I want to see. I’ve loved Costa Rica for decades, but somehow, I have never visited. Machu Pichu, the Galapagos…the list goes on.
I have to confess that I’m not a huge paella fan. I love a Spanish tortilla, some olives, flan, and jamón, but I’m not a big rice fan. It just feels like filler. In fact, the rice dish I had in a restaurant recently was a lot of rice and a little meat and vegetables. I prefer to fill up on healthier things. Today, my high school friend, who is in Valencia for a week, invited me to join her and her husband on a visit to her “Spanish family.” I felt honored to tag along to meet her Spanish mom and brother and his family. They had just bought a house outside the city, and it even had a pool in the backyard! And her brother’s wife was making paella for us. The house was beautiful; I could see how proud they were of their new place. They had enjoyed spending time there this summer, and the two teenage girls loved the pool and the ample space of the house. She had some of the ingredients out for the paella: artichokes and giant beans. Already, it promised to be a different kind of paella. After some social time and appetizers, she got out the gas burner and paella pan. The pan was almost two feet wide. She considered using a bigger one but decided this would be big enough for eight people.
Lots of olive oil, chicken pieces, and green beans… Then add the artichoke hearts.Spanish paprika and tomato sauce (She uses turmeric instead of saffron.)Add rice (I missed that picture!) and sauté. Then add chicken broth and simmer.A sprig of rosemary is a must!
In the end, there was plenty for all. Everyone had seconds or thirds, including me. As you can see from the photos, it was delicious! It may have tasted better combined with good company.
Yesterday there was rain in the forecast. The skies were cloudy, and a few drops fell here and there. I enjoyed a three-hour Spanish lunch with an old friend from high school and three of her Spanish friends. The most expressive of the group kept joking about the threat of rain, saying things like, “I think four drops just fell.”
Murals in the neighborhood where we had lunch (near the port)
Throughout the afternoon, it was like that, a little spit from the sky here and there.
After I arrived home, I decided an early evening walk was needed to work off the three-course lunch. The spit turned into a steady sprinkle, and once I sat down for a light dinner of soup and salad, it was legitimately raining.
Making the most of the fresh produce from Ruzafa Market
It rained steadily through the night, and I woke up to that familiar pitter-patter of perfect rainfall this morning—not an out-and-out downpour, but pleasant, steady drops that require a rain jacket or umbrella.
Valencia needed a shower in the worst way. Just yesterday, my friend commented that the streets seemed dirtier than she remembered. She was concerned that her favorite Spanish city was going downhill.
At lunch, her Spanish friends told us about the rising electricity cost and water scarcity. I imagine people aren’t going out and washing down the sidewalks in front of their businesses as Spanish usually do. Also, dog ownership grew dramatically during the pandemic. Even though most people clean up after their pets, there is residue of poop and pee. It all made sense now.
The rain is supposed to taper off by 9:00 or so. After I finish this second cup of tea, it looks like a good day for the archaeological museum.
Valencia’s Archeological Musem is not to be missed. You’ll want to see what is under the water feature!
Do you ever think about space and what it means to you? No, I’m not talking about the stars, planets, universe kind of space—these days, I’m thinking about the spaces we occupy.
Why?
I sold my home a few months ago and have been traveling or staying with friends and family ever since. I’ve occupied various hotel rooms, condos, and bedrooms at friends’ houses. This is all by choice, mind you. Don’t get worried that this poor woman is desperate and homeless. I’m taking some time out, a self-imposed sabbatical, to see what’s next.
In Lisbon, Portugal, I recently stayed in a studio apartment that was smaller than most hotel rooms. There was just enough space to walk around the double bed; I’m sure it was less than eight feet wide. The kitchenette was on the wall opposite the bed, with a skinny bar-style table for two and a small desk in between. I’m not really complaining, though. It did have two big windows, which at least made it tolerable. It was also equipped with a safe in the entryway, a foot-long bar with six hangers, and an iron and ironing board, a rarity in European hotel rooms. Someone had put a lot of thought into making that tiny space efficient. And really, you’re in Lisbon. Get out and see the sights instead of hanging out in your room!
Tiny Lisbon Apartment
But I needed to take some breaks to rest, and I could barely stand in the room. It just wasn’t enough space. In contrast, I stayed in a studio in Porto, Portugal, that was at least double, possibly triple, the size. It was equipped with a Juliette balcony plus two large windows. The ceilings were at least ten feet high, and I loved it! The kitchenette was well-equipped, and I did quite a bit of cooking, saving the expense of eating out. (I’m also a health nut with Celiac Disease.)
Spacious, light-filled Porto Apartment
Two days ago, I arrived in Valencia, Spain. This is the longest stay of my 90-day European adventure. I’ll be here for four weeks. I got lucky on Airbnb and found a super-cool apartment in a desirable area—Ruzafa. The host is particular about his renters. There is a minimum twenty-day stay with a maximum of two people occupying the apartment. It’s a rather large two-bedroom apartment, at least 1000 square feet. I think he initially rented to bigger groups and had some negative experiences.
I’m in love with my Valencia apartment!
The online pictures looked enticing, and all the reviews were five-star. That made me hopeful. I liked that the owner was picky; that meant he cared about the property. He had worked to preserve the original character of the apartment, which I appreciate. Of course, he doesn’t want someone trashing it.
From the man bedroom, access the balcony through this window.View from the balcony
When I arrived, I was pleasantly surprised. It was even better than the photos had indicated. The owner should have shared charming features like the small atrium with plants on the wall. Each room has natural light. The primary bedroom has bay windows, and the smaller bedroom has a balcony attached, which can also be accessed through a tall skinny window in the master. The kitchen has been updated with new appliances and a sizeable refrigerator.
Modern kitchenSpacious and well-equipped
But the best part is the great room space. At least one wall was removed to create an open space. It has floor-to-ceiling windows, some with colored glass, about 12 by 12 feet. You read correctly, 12-foot ceilings! I’m sitting here typing at the midcentury desk, surrounded by plants, facing the wall of windows. The great room space is about 20 by 20 feet in its entirety. One corner provides the perfect space for my temporary yoga studio. The original tile mosaic floors in the dining area and those in the bedrooms and entryway have been preserved. I genuinely feel privileged to occupy this space for a few weeks.
The perfect place to write
For some people, space is insignificant. For others, it is everything. My twenty-something sons don’t care much about space. When my older son got his first job out of college, he moved across the country and lived in a one-bedroom apartment with no art on the walls that was furnished with a bed, a chair, and a TV. That’s it. The rest wasn’t necessary for him. He knew he’d only be there for two years, so he wanted to avoid investing further.
When I was younger, space wasn’t that important to me either. After studying in Spain for a semester, a friend and I traveled through Europe for six weeks with backpacks and Eurail passes. We stayed in some dumpy rooms with terrible beds and sometimes shared bathrooms. I’d never survive that now.
Since divorcing nine years ago, I have lived in several places (even before selling my most recent home). I now understand that I was searching for the right space. I lived in a two-story townhome-style condo for four years, which was tolerable. The downstairs had nine-foot ceilings and oversized windows with views of evergreen trees. Not bad. The main bedroom upstairs was large, but the ensuite bathroom was small. I renovated the bathroom, which made it more my space. Besides that, I haven’t lived in a place for over two years. It’s been a restless stretch.
Sitting here now, I know what I need to be happy: natural light, ample space to move around, a well-equipped kitchen, and inviting spaces to read, write, and practice yoga. I don’t care how small the bedroom and bath might be. I don’t live in those spaces. It’s all about the space I occupy in my waking hours.
It’s nice to finally be here. After a month of traveling from place to place, I get a break from the daily pressure to see things or to move on to the following location.
I arrived two days ago around 5:45 PM. Disembarking from the plane was slow, but my suitcase was already waiting for me at baggage claim. The Valencia airport is modern and small, and I found the taxi stand easily.
My taxi driver, the first female driver I’ve ever encountered in Spain, was a real character. At first, she didn’t say much. Then she asked if I spoke Spanish. Once I responded, the floodgates opened! She was a talker. She told me about Spain, where to visit, and who spoke the best Spanish in the world. (In Spain, it was the people of Valladolid.) She also held the Basques in high regard. She described them as more rigid than other Spaniards with a stronger work ethic.
My residence for the next four weeks
By the time we got through traffic, it was almost 7:00. My host was in the apartment awaiting my arrival. He, too, was excited and a bit relieved when I told him I spoke Spanish. He responded that it made explaining everything a lot easier for him. He’s clearly a meticulous fellow and takes pride in the apartment. The vintage apartment has mosaic floors in the bedrooms, entryway, and dining area. The windows are original, including the not-so-easy-to-operate wooden blinds. He’s taken steps to preserve the original beauty as much as possible.
Light and bright! The perfect place to write.
As soon as he left, I walked to the conveniently located Consum grocery store just around the corner. I find Spanish city grocery stores fascinating. From the outside, they often appear small, but when you walk in, most of them are amazingly huge! They go back deeply into the city block. Occasionally, you will walk into one that is two stories. My host had recommended this one because the prices were reasonable, and it is so close.
I grabbed as much as I thought I could carry (It was plenty.) and headed back to make a simple dinner of thin beef steaks, fried potatoes, and green beans. I also bought a tiny bottle of wine. I looked up the conversion, and it was 6.25 ounces, a glass for one. Not bad for 1.29 euros!
I slept well, as I usually do on travel days. Lugging that heavy suitcase around tends to wear me out. And the bed is comfortable. Yes! What would be worse than being stuck with an uncomfortable mattress for four weeks?
I woke up Tuesday morning refreshed but in no hurry. After breakfast, I walked to the Ruzafa Market. It’s not the prettiest Spanish market, but they had everything I could want. I walked the aisles, taking it all in, and decided to go with a mother-son team. Their prices looked good, and they weren’t talking on and on like some of the other vendors were. I know; it’s part of their social life, so I can’t complain. I also bought some olives, walnuts, and a treat made from sesame seeds.
Not the prettiest market in Spain……but they have everything you could want.
Back at the apartment, I did my laundry and made a big pot of chicken-vegetable soup. It was nice to cook again after staying in hotels for eight days. That had really started to get to me in Seville. I felt a bit trapped there! I read a bit in the afternoon, relaxed on the sofa, and fell asleep. The rest was needed.
By 4:30, I regained energy and walked through the neighborhood and the Turia. I spotted a large health food store called Herbolario Navarros. What a find! They had more gluten-free items in one place than I had ever seen! They even had my brand of magnesium supplements, which I needed to refill.
Back at the apartment, I got on the computer and chatted with friends on Facebook. I’m looking forward to seeing my high-school friends, who will arrive in a couple of days. She lived in Valencia with her first husband and knows the city well.
I received a lengthy message from my host with suggestions and links to places to visit. He listed some of the more popular ones I have already seen, like the Cathedral, botanical garden, and Ceramics Museum, but there were many other places I had yet to see or would not have known about. So glad I have time to see them all!
I searched to see if any concerts were coming up at the Palau de las artes. Amazingly, there was a free concert the following evening. There were only about 20 seats left in the back, but one can’t complain about free! Looking forward to that tonight.
Palau de las artes, ValenciaMy free nosebleed seats were fantastic indeed!
Wandering Shannon 