Historic Valencia

My last day in Spain (for now). Sad! as Trump would tweet.  My visit to Valencia was too brief, but at the same time, I'm ready to head home.

We started the day at the historic city center, visiting the basilica to see the Virgin of Valencia.  The amount of gold was unbelievable, as was the beautiful painted ceiling.  Carlos said that a couple of weeks ago, on the Virgin's feast day, they moved the statue of the Virgin from the basilica to the Church next door, and the plaza was jammed with people. Whether you are Catholic or not, Carlos says,  the Virgin's help is sought by everyone who has problems.

The Virgin of Valencia

We then walked through some of the narrow streets, and came upon a Segway tour guide who offered to let us try the Segway for free (in hopes of getting us to buy a tour, and wasn't a bad deal, but we didn't have time). I talked Carlos into trying it, but I couldn't really tell if he liked it or not. It would have been a nice way to see the old part of the city - maybe next time.

Carlos and the Segway

This instrument is called a handpan.  It's like a steel drum, but played with the hands.  The music was really gorgeous, and I bought a CD.

Then we stopped into the Parroqia San Nicolas to see Valencia's "Sistine Chapel".  We rented audio guides, which was a good idea (and something I was finally allowed to pay for).  The church is absolutely breathtaking, and we really needed the guides for explanation of what we we seeing.  The problem was, we had no idea how long the whole thing was, and we had to quit after #13 because we needed time for lunch before taking me to the train.  Maybe it only went to 15, or maybe it went to 30, who knows? But it was easily one of the highlights of Valencia for me.

Valencia's "Sistine Chapel"

We were walking around looking for a lunch place when I got tickled by the name of a place - El Clot.  It didn't sound like a place that had any heart-healthy dishes, for sure.  But when Carlos' first choice was closed, and the second choice turned out to have nothing we (mostly me) wanted to eat, we ended up back at El Clot. They had tapas, and we ended up with Russian salad, patatas bravas, and a cheese plate, all of which were good - and way too much food.

Then it was time to head for the train station to get back to Madrid.  I can't say enough nice things about Carlos' hosting - but I do wish I had been permitted to buy dinner or something. We said our goodbyes, then I had just enough time to get a drink from the vending machine and go to the bathroom before my train was called.  The trip back was uneventful, and I got the Airport Express bus, and then a taxi, to my hostal.

Hostals in Spain are always interesting.  Unlike hostels, hostals are small, usually family-run, hotels.  They have quirky room setups, and funky decorating, but they are cheap and clean, and good enough for the price.  My room didn't seem to have a remote for the air conditioner, and the lady had to dig up a big bag of them and come in to see which one worked.  After that was sorted, and I had my bags packed properly for flying, I tried to go to sleep.  The pillow was heavy and solid, apparently filled with something like sand.  I would get in a good position, then a shift of my head would cause the sand to drain away from the pile, and I would have to start over.  Once I did get to sleep, I was awakened by a group of loud Americans clunking big suitcases up the stairs and chatting at top volume in the hall.  Eventually, though, I did nod off.