Valencia is to Perth what Ryan Gosling’s stomach is to my beer belly. Now if this isn’t clear, have you ever been to Luton? Or Derby? Or the urinal that is Perth ? It is quite remarkable that a city like Valencia exists on the same planet as places like this, never mind a mere 3 hour flight away. It seems unfair. Like an injustice.

Valencia has been pinned as a future Barcelona; it has all of the attractions but not nearly the same levels of tourism – yet. On my first trip to Spain’s 3rd largest city it was easy to see why, and 7 months on my opinion hasn’t changed. Back in February our expectations were low after blindly booking an apartment and flights a few days in advance. We had forced down some cheap beer, strayed from our rough area into the glistening city centre and got lost amongst the Gothic architecture – architecture that was so breathtaking I only slightly grudged paying 20 euros for a bag of bay leaves.

Anyway, fast forward to September, and despite many many mistakes being made in the previous weeks of the holiday, we seem to have pulled it off for the last leg of the trip. We have an apartment right in the heart of the city centre: on one of the back streets lined with orange trees. It’s 30+ degrees. And I haven’t ignorantly handed over 20 euros to a stranger.

The first thing we do is get a beer and order some food. It arrives and I can’t help but be proud over what we have ordered. I look at my traditional Gazpacho, Nathan works his way into his fresh tuna salad, whilst Stu quickly sees off his renowned Spanish delicacy of scrambled eggs, hot dog and tomato ketchup.

In the days prior to arriving in Valencia we visited Toulouse, a village in The Pyrenees and Barcelona. We fly home in a matter of days and are all feeling beyond humped, so the nightlife wasn’t as high on our to-do-list as it was last time I visited.

You can’t walk 8-feet without coming across another stunning square or cathedral. Plaza Del Reina perhaps boasts the most impressive sight. The Valencia Cathedral stretches over an incredible distance and towers over the narrow back streets. Other tourists seem to be taking bets on which one of our bodies will give up first as we climb the endless, spiralling steps to the top of the cathedral. The stunning Turia gardens splits the city in half, whilst little medieval castles seem to pop up everywhere.

The miles of golden beaches are a massive benefit in the sun too. After lengthy train journeys, and stomachs full of French & Spanish beer, a long swim in the Med feels perfect. Stu is even squeezing in a few sit ups.

Even the sound of a Spaniard saying the name of the city is superior to a Brit saying Luton. This becomes even more obvious when we make our way to the airport and here British accents for the first time in a while. It rolls of the tongue, as if it is a seduction technique. We enjoy a few beers in the airport before boarding our flight. Anyway in true Scottish fashion, we are quite happy to be out of the 30 degree heat and be back on freezing cold, Scottish soil. Stu can finally put on one of the 20 pair of trackies he packed.

Like this: Like Loading...