Another day, another crazy train ride to a small town we know very little about. This time though, the trip proved to be very fruitful. Literally.Quite a few of us decided to visit an ancient monastery about 40 minutes from Valencia in a town called Alzira. Larger than Requena with much more to give one hope of a good time, the downtown ended up not being our white flag destination like Requena.We rode a bus across the city to the hospital where we were told to walk up and then left. Oh yes, people here are very specific with their directions. At the beginning of the walk we were surrounded by field after field of oranges. It reminded me of a Roman heaven, or maybe some sort of Eden, with old homes situated in the middle of the fields and fruit everywhere. The sky was blue and the mountains just ahead. We picked the oranges right off of the trees and ate them along the way.We walked for hours on end trying to find the monastery. After a long walk and being lost a few times, we found it. Up in a more elevated part of the valley, the ruins stood in a picturesque forest. Trees and birds surrounded us. I couldn’t believe my eyes.All of the walking led us to the monastery at sunset so on our way back the streets were pitch black. Luckily, there were about eight of us to keep eachother safe and warm. We sang songs as they popped into our heads and found our way back to the bus station hungry and exhausted.Every minute was worth it. Every single one.
Requena and other travels Wednesday, February 13, 2008
A week or so ago, we went to a small town near Valencia called Requena. This adventure was during Carnival and we were told the town had an interesting festiva that weekend. However, later we realized we had misunderstood and the festival was the next week. Of course that was after we had already gotten off the train in the town. Lost in translation? Happens all the time.But we made the best of it by squeezing ourselves into a small restaurant for a delicious meal. The tapas were muy autenticos and just kept coming. We sat there eating for a few hours much like the Spaniards all around us. It was the real thing.The trip was made all the more tragic as the weather was at least 10 degrees colder than Valencia. Mind you, I wore leggings, a dress and a small sweater. No socks, no jacket, very unprepared. On the corner of one of the buildings during siesta we found a small tienda called Bazar Oriental. The place was basically a dollar store. We bought gloves, wool socks and scarves in order to bear the cold that we were forced to suffer through as all of the places were closed (siesta, as afore mentioned) and the next train wasn’t until 8:30. We got there at 2 p.m.Like a little band of gypsies, we huddled in the central square next to a fountain eating Principes, our cookies of choice over here, and listening to eachothers iPods. We were quite a sight.Days later, back in Valencia, we joined the city in it’s birthday. Most of the fireworks used in Valencia are made here which makes the displays really special. We watched them in the Plaza de la Virgen over El Micalet, a large cathedral close by.Talk about surreal. My life here is full of extremes. I walk by architectural structures that are older than America everyday on my way to class. Plus, our lives here are very “normal.” You know, we go about our day eating, sleeping, partying and studying. But we are in Spain.
