Valencia and Moreda
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.
Tags: Travel
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