Yesterday we began the long journey back north. We drove 300 miles and camped some 50k north of Valencia, on the coast at a place called Moncofa. Today we took a day trip to Valencia using the frequent train service which runs along the coast. Valencia is looks almost like an English city as you leave the station, some of the buildings give you a feeling of Knightsbridge. We sampled a local drink Horchata (made from crushed tiger nuts - poor tiger) and the improbably named fartons; melt in the mouth buns which you dip in your horchata. We dutifully admired the cathedral and the virgins in the plaza, surrounding a reclining male rio Turia. Paul was sorry to miss out on the wonderfully named Luis Casanova staduim - home of Valencia FC (as he's seen virtually every other Spanish football ground!).
For lunch, what do you have in the home of paella; but paella. The beach area is the best place to get the authentic stuff, so it was a hop onto the metro to take our pick from the long line of beachside restaurants offering the stuff. With our trip through the Almeria desert in mind, it was appropriate that the maitre-d of the place we ate at looked remarkably like a mexican film extra.
We itend to chill out (perhaps even on the beach!) tomorrow before heading for the environs of Barcelona.
No comments:
Post a Comment