Donde Esta La Biblioteca? Otra Vez

In Valencia we met up with Marta and Juan, two Valencians we met while they were studying abroad at UT. They showed us around their beautiful town and took us took us out for a night of Spanish discos. Valencia is situated on a beach, but all the fun was to be had within the city.

Marta and Juan both grew up in Valencia. Juan is an architect who speaks mostly Catalan (a cool blend of every romantic language unique to the Spanish state of Catalunya) because he grew up in a suburb 20 minutes outside Valencia. Marta is a water polo playing fine arts graduate student pursuing a masters in painting. She drives an old Vespa. They both showed us the way to a delicious vegetarian restaurant situated near the city park that used to be the city river until it was rerouted, drained, and transformed into a garden.

We all met up at the early hour of 12:00 AM for some Sangria and ‘Agua de Valencia’ made with fresh Valencian oranges. Around 1 we made our way over to the disco scene and partied until it was time for Lauren and I to head back and get ready for our early next day to Granada.

The next morning we groggily stumbled to the Valencia train station and embarked on a 7 hour train ride towards Granada. Our tickets said we had to transfer at Moreda and then ride another hour until Granada. After a whole lot of reading and scenic views, we got out bags ready to hop off at Moreda. As we were getting off the train one of the employees asked if I was sure I wanted to get off here. I said “yeah, I think, we’re going to Granada,” to which he replied, “there have been some complications, [something I didn’t understand] 10 or 15 minutes” and then the door slid closed and the train drove away.

Moreda was a ghost station in the middle of nowhere. There wasn’t a soul in sight and the station was all boarded up. There were no arrival/departure boards or signs of any kind other than the one that said “Moreda.” Our only companions were endless empty fields of olive trees and a cluster of distant mountains. If I remember correctly, a tumbleweed passed by just as Lauren and I let out an unenthused expletive. All we knew was that “there had been some complications blank blank blank 10 or 15 minutes.” I searched my short mental Spanish dictionary amidst the desolation trying to cross-reference and decipher what could possibly fill in those blanks.

Apparently something was going to happen in 10 or 15 minutes, so we waited somewhat patiently. After 30 minutes the patience faded and we decided it would be a good idea to flag down any sign of life before the sun went down and amplified our isolation. We had our eyes peeled on the horizon when the tiniest of rail vehicles (you couldn’t really call it a train) puttered into sight. I flagged it down and we hastily boarded the gimpy box. The gimpy box driver said it was going to Granada so we took his word for it and gladly waved goodbye to Moreda.

The most endearing aspect of that travel day, besides the amazing Spanish scenery, was that it didn’t cost us a penny! Thanks to a little loophole we stumbled apon in the rail pass system, we’ve been covering great distances for free. Stew Jarmon would be so proud.

Over the years I’ve heard a lot of things from different people about Barcelona. Nothing prepared me for what it was like. We climbed up into the city from our underground train stop and were immediately confronted by Gaudí. His organic twists and turns seem to grow naturally out of this lively urban jungle thriving between the ocean and the mountains.

Gaudí and the funky attitude engrossing Barcelona he helped sculpt were the main attractions. There was also the Picasso Museum honoring all of his under the radar ‘b-side’ works and studies. Between them two the city was already almost too artistic to bear. Throw on some wonderful coastal weather, a hip and rebellious Catalunyan population, plus some palm trees and you’ve got a perfect storm of stimulation.

First we climbed up Casa Milà for a look at a Gaudí interior and a peek at the city from above. Then we humbly shuffled through the ongoing epic that is the Sagrada Familia. Still feigning for more Modernisme magic, we hiked up to Park Güell and reveled at what can be done when someone ignores the limits of traditions, taboos, and creative dogma. I got the impression that Gaudí was one of those geniuses that started with “Wouldn’t it be cool if…” and didn’t stop until the coolness was realized.

We especially enjoyed the neighborhood surrounding the Picasso museum. It was a ying-yang of bohemian artistic and SOHO chic. Inside the museum we were amused by a lot of the early work by Picasso. His paintings transmit his emotions pretty clearly, so you can tell when he was happy, sad, frustrated, curious, and just being a wise ass.

Every night we ate at a local vegan eatery called Juicy Jones. It was delicious.

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