Spanish Winter Sun

This year, the thought of spending the Christmas holidays not on holiday seemed ludicrous. My job leaves me so restricted with annual leave that it would be a wasted opportunity to not travel during the only five days of the year that the office is officially closed. 

Therefore, just moments after gobbling down my last slice of Yule log, I was in the car on my way to the airport with my mum – the thought of spending the Christmas holidays not with her seemed ludicrous too. 

In a matter of hours, we’d landed in Valencia and whilst it wasn’t the traditional Christmas setting, I was more than happy to swap the festive pines for exotic palms and catch a few days of Spanish winter sun. 

We began the way I like to begin all city breaks; with a historical walking tour. I usually find this gives a good overview of the city and the chance to note down places to return to later on. Thanks to our guide Helena, a Spanish-Dutch girl studying in Valencia, this tour was amongst the best that I’ve taken. From the very outset, she diverted us away from the traditional tourist route and instead uncovered the secrets of the city which would otherwise have gone unnoticed. 

For example, we passed the Palace of the Borgias which from the street, appears to be like any other grand building built for a wealthy family in the 15th century. However, Helena led us down the neighbouring alleyway to reveal that whilst the ‘Palace’ is impressive in terms of its height and width, it’s in fact the narrowest building in the city – only six strides deep! In a sense, this is an accurate representation of the Borgia family who hid a life of organised crime behind the grand front of being holy men of the church. 

Later we stopped to admire the intricate architecture of the Silk Market which does well to distract from the master-bating gargoyles  (yep genuinely) poised on the surrounding turrets, as well as the Towers of Serano, the sole survivors of what once made up the city wall, and San Juan hospital where all Valencia’s want their children to be baptised. We also visited the old wheat factory but I have to admit the story behind it was a lot more entertaining when Helena’s strong accent had led me to believe she was talking about weed. 

After four hours of walking, we’d worked up quite an appetite which was fortunate considering the paella we ordered for dinner arrived in a dish the size of a small spaceship. It tasted pretty out of this world too and we finished it off with little trouble. 

The following morning, we set off on a mission to find bikes to hire in order to cycle through the Turia River. Yes, through! The Turia River, as it is still known despite no longer holding any water, was emptied and transported to the other side of the city following a devastating flood in 1957. There was much debate over what should be done with the dried up riverbed, the most likely option being a highway. However, the people of Valencia came together and successfully pitched an idea to the government for this space to be transformed into one very, very long park! The 25km route is now home to numerous sports grounds, playgrounds, cafes, restaurants, fountains and even a zoo!

Over the course of the day we covered the majority, stopping for lunch at the epic Centre of Arts and Sciences which is so futuristic, it looks as though it belongs in Dubai. It’s completely stunning but in an entirely different sense to the rest of the city and quite bizarre to stumble across on route to the beach. 

In the evening, we had a date with a Valencian man called Gabi who’d arranged to meet us just outside the Cathedral after sundown – a romantic start to our Spanish Tapas Tour! 

We began at a small restaurant just off the main square but before he let us tuck in, he insisted we know the history behind what we were eating. Gabi explained that this Spanish style of eating was born of the need in previous times to cover one's glass of wine with a slice of bread or meat to deter fruit flies. In fact, the very word 'tapa' is derived from the verb 'to cover.' Bartenders soon realised that the meat, whilst served initially as a practical measure, was very salty and so was simultaneously helping to increase their alcohol sales.  As a result, they invested in finding dishes which complimented their wines in this way. 

A secondary theory is that a law was introduced during King Alfonso's reign which dictated that alcohol served in public houses must be accompanied by food. The reason behind this law is widely believed to be that the King was tired of calling upon his army to fight, only to find them completely drunk. 

Respecting the King's law, we accompanied our meal with wine, arguably a little too large for the small pintxos on our plate; two slices of bread topped with croquettes and soft cheese. 

We finished these quickly and followed Gabi deep into the maze-like streets of the Old Town. Along the way, he pointed out his favourite shops, cafes and corners which he recommended we return to, should we ever find (or more likely stumble upon) them again. 

At the second restaurant, we dined alfresco with typical tapas including patatas bravas, garlic shrimps, calamari and more. As we ate, we shared stories of our lives back home and listened to Gabi's account of the city where he was born and bred. The fact that we'd just met this man and yet conversed with ease between picking at the plates spread out in front of us highlighted the sociability of this way of eating. Though I'm sure the second gigantic glass of wine accompanying it helped too. 

Despite being completely stuffed, we still had one more stop which Gabi assured us was completely unmissable. He certainly did save the best till last. The moment we sat down, our table disappeared beneath a large platter of toasted bread and intriguing dips. My favourite consisted of goats cheese, scrambled egg and courgette - three ingredients which I would never normally place together but it tasted delectable.

Just as I thought the evening was coming to a close, Gabi ordered not a glass but a pitcher of wine for us to try. It was a dessert wine and is traditionally consumed by tipping back your head, positioning the spout at an arm's length from your mouth and pouring it in. It vaguely resembled something we used to do on sports socials at university but the delicate Spanish porron from which it flowed somehow added a touch of class.

I woke with a slightly fuzzy head the next morning but nevertheless made it up to the rooftop of our hotel in time to watch the sunrise over the city. Our immediate surroundings were rather unattractive high rise flats but casting our eyes a little further on, we could see the beautiful spires and domes of the Old Town piercing the pink and lilac sky.

On our final day in Valencia we took the bikes and cycled to the very centre, keen to cover every inch. I was pleased to realise that certain routes were beginning to feel familiar and I was gradually getting to know my way around the city, guided for the most part by the memorable street art on every corner. We soon found ourselves on top of the world again, this time in the midst of the scene we'd admired earlier and gazing out from the middle on the balcony of the bell tower. It was a different perspective but equally as perfect. 


With just hours left, we returned to the beach and dined at Panorama, a beautiful restaurant on the peninsular with an incredible view out over the ocean. I was very sad to be leaving that day and was so taken in by wanting to stay, that we came very close to missing our flight. 

Looking back on it, it wouldn't have been the end of the world.