Stories from Valencia...
Our New Life in Valencia..Making plans!
Blog 1
One evening in the springtime of 2022, after several glasses of wine, we decided to give up our jobs, sell our home and move to the continent!
In our fifties, and recent empty nesters, we felt it was finally our time for some adventure..
To be honest, I am very much a creature of habit, almost fearful of change. My husband was feeling pretty burnt out and I was fast approaching the age of my mother, when she had passed away (breast cancer 58).
So I forced myself to be much more adventurous!.
After watching many episodes of a place in the sun, plus some online research, we knew that Valencia could suit us.
In particular the Safor region, known for its unspoilt beaches, orange groves and wonderful produce..
I started making a list of things we needed to do. I booked flights and accommodation for a four day trip, so we could see the Safor coast for ourselves.
But a week before we were due to go, new restrictions in Spain meant we were unable to travel. (Covid, still!)
So without knowing what the area was like, we started getting our home ready for valuation.
We had spent the past eight years slowly renovating it. I had painted every inch of woodwork on all three floors!
It had been a labour of love for us both..
One good thing during the pandemic, for us, was that many programmes on TV, had showcased how beautiful Devon and Cornwall were.
Sending the housing market all over the South west of England, into a bit of frenzy!
People from London and the Midlands were buying houses in our area, above the asking price, having only viewed online..
On Saturday morning a man called round interested in buying our sea kayaks, from an advert we had placed. He decided they were too heavy for him to manage.
As he was leaving, he asked why we were selling them, and we tell him our plans. It turned out he had his own estate agency in the next town.
He sent someone to value our house on Monday, and suggested a price far better than we had hoped.
The house was sold to the first couple who viewed it, one week later!
It was time to tell family and friends our plans.
Our youngest daughter was away at university. When we drove her to Hertfordshire Uni last September, I cried nonstop on the six hour car journey home. Thankfully my husband was driving!
Our middle daughter was about to go to Costa Rica, to manage a yoga & surf retreat for 6 months. Then on to New Zealand, so our plans wouldn’t affect her too much.
Our eldest daughter and three grandchildren were all delighted, at the prospect of holidaying abroad with us every summer..
Next we needed to get our visas sorted.
Due to new post brexit rules, the Spanish consulate in London was in chaos. People were waiting six months to get an appointment.
Worse still, due to their increased workload the Spanish staff were about to go out on strike!
Anyway, we were soon to learn, before we could even apply for our appointment, we had to have all our documents in order.
Some of the requirements..
- Full police checks to prove we did not have criminal records.
- An active policy for full private Spanish healthcare
- Letters from our doctors stating we had no known diseases and were in good health
- Letters saying why we wanted to relocate to Spain plus several bank statements, proving we could support ourselves.
Which then all had to be translated into Spanish, and made into legal documents via a sworn notary..
I subscribed to babble online, and attempted to learn some Spanish. We had both only learnt (basic) French at school, and had mostly holidayed in France.
I started with basic foods, learning that carrot was zanahoria, I felt it could be a long process!
In early July the travel restrictions in Spain were finally lifted, so we went to see the Safor coast for ourselves.
We flew to Valencia, then drove south for an hour. Arriving at a traditional agricultural town, on the safor coast.
We rented a little terraced house, in its old town area. It was medieval in parts and steeped in history.
From its tiny terrace we could see over dozens of roof tops, with miles of orange groves, and the blue shimmering sea in the distance.
The coast along this stretch was beautiful, miles of flat sandy beaches, peppered with beach houses, amongst its dunes.
If you stood at the shoreline and looked back, the beach was framed by luscious green mountains in the distance, it was beautiful..
On Friday morning we visit the town's market. It was bursting with glorious vibrant produce. Peaches, cherries, strawberries and other Summer fruits were piled high.
We pass animated vendors selling fresh garlic, pickled olives, dried cod, cheeses, eggs and cakes. A lady was busy frying churros, with a queue alongside her food truck.
It was very crowded, with little old Spanish ladies, filling their large shopping trolleys for the weekend.
They all seemed to know one another, their happy chatter with aromas from the market filled the air.
Stalls continued down the long length of the tree lined paseo. Offering kitchen wares, ceramics, fresh flowers and clothing. There is a wonderful energy.
On either side of the market, the streets were lined with little bars, filled with old men, sitting at tables by the roadside.
They were cheerily, drinking small glasses of beer with little bowls of monkey nuts, still in their shells.
A Valencian tradition I would later learn..
It was fun spotting all the places we had seen on a place in the sun, at least five episodes had been filmed here.
On the evening of my 54th birthday, we went to a little bar in the square of the old town. We sat enjoying a jug of sangria, overlooking a beautiful, blue and gold domed church.
The sun was starting to set, and the ancient stonework had a beautiful golden glow.
It made for wonderful people watching, young boys were kicking a football about. Elderly ladies with fresh flowers were coming and going, from the huge golden door of the church.
The odd car would drive by on the narrow cobbled roads, some with latino music blaring out, as they passed..
It was time to return to Devon. With dog sitting and work commitments, we could only manage four nights away.
But we both agreed, we liked what we had seen on our lightning visit.
Some photos from our recent trip to Spain!
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Blog 2
Our New Life in Valencia..Still preparing!
By the end of July all the documentation for our visa application was completed.
We applied for our appointment, with the Spanish consulate in London.
Unfortunately the staff were now on strike!.
My spare time was spent taking car loads of beloved kitchen china, cookbooks (I had been collecting for a lifetime), clothing, bedding and all sorts of stuff, to charity shops.
I sorted through family photos, that filled a small bedroom.
I made a box each for our three daughters. Keeping treasured ones for ourselves, that would fit into a shoe box. Quite a challenge!
I found a courier company, to take some large furniture and our most treasured belongings to Valencia.
We marked the exact measurements of the van, on our dining room floorboards, with the height chalked on our wall.
Over the weeks we fill every inch of the space.
They would come and pick it up the second week of September, storing it in a warehouse, until they were ready to drive it to Valencia.
Next we found a storage company, in the little Safor town, where we had recently stayed.
We booked storage from October 1st onwards, paid a deposit, then forwarded their details to our courier company..
It was starting to feel quite exciting now, I regularly had butterflies in my tummy, like a young child.
We got our exchange date for the house, 26th Sept!.
Working down my list, I email an estate agent in our little Safor town, asking for a house to rent, in the old town. By the end of the week, they had set us up with a dog friendly rental.
We would start paying rent from Oct 1st, It was available by the month until the owners come out at Easter, which is just perfect!.
I worked for a community development trust, supporting people with ideas to improve their communities.
The team gave me a fabulous leaving party, in a community allotment. They all brought tapas dishes which we shared, sat on a long bench set, in the sunshine.
Once I had finished work, it was time to sell my Mini Cooper. It had been my favourite car..
It was time to take Watson, our five year old Corgi, for his rabies vaccination.
This had to be done at least 21 days before travel.
While talking with the vet, she told me that the post brexit paperwork couldn’t be done any sooner than ten days before entering Spain. Also that I would have to be present while she wrote it all out. (So many rules!)
Several days later, we are back at the vets. Watson had decided to bite, quite severely, into his bushy tail!
The vet put this down to him being anxious, as all our belongings were now boxed in a huge pile. ( I know how he feels!)
It took three members of staff to fit a cone around poor Watsons head, he was not at all keen!
Our daughter spent all of August at the house, and several of her friends from Uni came to stay. Thankfully the weather was nice, so they were out enjoying the local beaches most days.
I enjoyed meeting up with friends, for goodbye lunches.
On August bank holiday, we enjoyed a wonderful big family picnic on Dartmoor..
With no news of our appointment with the consulate, we had to start planning where we would stay, after we completed on the house.
I found an eco lodge in north Devon, that was dog friendly so booked it for two weeks!
The courier company came and took all our boxes and furniture, leaving the house bare and empty.
For the next couple of weeks, we slept on a camping mattress. Using a laptop as our TV, with only a cup, plate, and set of cutlery each, feeling like a couple of teenagers.
Then on Sept 25th the day before completion, we pack the car with what is left of our stuff.
With our bikes on the roof and an anxious corgi in the back, we say goodbye to our home!
Blog 3
A new life in Valencia..Our nomadic life!
After driving for just over an hour we arrive at our home for the next two weeks!
It was a damp late September afternoon, as we drove into the eco lodge car park. We got out and had a little explore around. The lodge was set in a corner of a large farm.
Secluded with tall hedging, with uninterrupted views of open countryside, from its front windows and little decked garden.
We called at the farm to collect our keys, from the jolly and friendly farmer.
Inside the eco lodge was like a wooden Wendy house, all small and cute. I had it feeling homely in no time.
After a good night’s sleep, in separate beds as they were doll sized, we all went exploring the local area.
It was very rural, with lots of walking trails, but the nearest shop was a 20 min drive away. It was also very basic, opening just a few hours each day.
We were deep into a forest walk when our solicitor phoned, saying that the completion of our house had gone through seamlessly.
We celebrated that evening with some lovely local cheeses, and wine..
It was a Good job I had packed our welly boots as it didn’t stop raining, pretty much for the whole 1st week. But, we were both starting to unwind and feel relaxed.
Thankfully by the 2nd week, the weather was much better. We enjoyed some lovely day trips to Bude and Saunton sands.
We took Watsons cone off and he was having the time of his life, running freely along the vast, empty sandy beaches..
We were all adapting to country life quite well.
We enjoyed a delicious vegetarian Sunday roast, in a village pub near the lodge. Which amazingly only served food once a week!.
The nights were starting to draw in, and it was dark, around 7pm.
During these evenings we started to look at where we would stay next.
We wanted to stay in the South west area as we were using our daughters address for the Spanish consulate, She is in South Devon.
We found a small dog friendly cottage, on a farm in Tavistock, on Dartmoor. We booked it for our next 2 weeks.
The following morning,we heard via email from the consulate. Our appointment was in 5 days!.
Saturday morning, we say our goodbyes to the farmer and his eco lodge. Heading to our new temporary home on Dartmoor.
We arrive late afternoon after exploring Tavistock and picking up some much needed supplies.
We had booked a stay in London, for the following night. To be close to the consulate for our long awaited appointment, on Monday morning.
So after just one night in the new accommodation, with Watson in the back, we set off on our journey to London.
After several hours on the road, we arrive at our canal side accommodation. It was on the outskirts of London, and It looked a lot shabbier than in the photos online.
As we walked through, no one was on reception, so we carried on through to the bar area. Where a few rough looking men with very scary dogs were sat.
I was starting to feel very uncomfortable, but I was trying not to let it show.
We reluctantly ate some basic food, on offer at the bar (cheesy chips!) Then went to our room and locked the door. I didn’t sleep much.
We were up and out at the crack of dawn. We gave Watson his morning toilet walk, along the canal path. which was pitch dark, misty and very creepy!
We began the journey into central London. To our pre-paid parking space, in a church car park off Sloane street.
We would have to leave Watson in the car, as dogs weren’t allowed in the consulate!
The short journey ended up taking over 3 hours, due to lane closures. We made it to the church car park at 10.15! I quickly gave Watson a little kiss, then we both ran at full speed to the consulate..
We just made it, hot, sweaty and super stressed!
As we joined the long line outside, someone with a clipboard came out and called our names.
They checked my bag at security then ushered us into a waiting room. After a short while, we were asked to go to a small counter, and hand over our documents.
The process took no more than 10 mins. To be quite honest it felt a bit under whelming, after all the months of preparing and waiting. Plus the journey to get here..
We took Watson for a walk around Knightsbridge. Managing to find a nice brasserie with outside seating (dog friendly.)
We enjoyed some green tea and sticky pastries, while Watson ate a plate of posh sausages..
All enjoying this happy moment of calm, until my husband received the eye watering bill!.
We did our journey in reverse back to Dartmoor. It was pitch dark when we finally arrived back, at the farm cottage.
Watson in London...Watson glad to be back playing on Dartmoor, keeping one eye on the wild ponies!
Blog 4
A New life in Valencia..
Waiting for our visas!
The following morning, we were all rudely awakened by the farmer’s alarm clock at 5.30am! And almost every morning during our two week stay!
The people we spoke to at the consulate said we should hear back from them within three weeks..
The weather was great and with so many beautiful places on our door step, we stayed out most days until dusk.
We walked and picniced on the moors, Watson enjoyed wading in shallow streams.
We walked along high viaducts, taking in breathtaking views. Enjoyed lunches and cream teas in national trust tea rooms. Every day was glorious.
I found a launderette, as we were getting desperately low on clean items. I handed them two giant bags of clothing, and four hours later I collected it. Clean and beautifully folded, just wonderful!
During our time here, we had driven past an eerie looking ancient pub. On our last evening, we plucked up the courage to go inside and have a look.
We were greeted by an elderly couple, dressed in Gothic clothing. It was very dark inside, only lit with candles and a few well placed table lamps.
On closer inspection, the place was crammed full of pagan ornaments, animal skeletons, and five pointed stars.
It was all very creatively arranged but incredibly surreal. We sat in a little alcove and the man appeared from nowhere, making us both jump in our seats.
He gave us two menus, no way were we going to eat here! We ordered some homemade cider that he had recommended.
We drank them down pretty quick, walked about taking some photos, then very quietly left.
Walking back to our car the sky was lit up by a luminescent full moon!.
Once again we came to the end of our stay. Next we found a fisherman’s cottage in Appledore, on the North Devon coast. We booked it for one week, hoping we would hear back from the consulate very soon..
We parked in the public car park at the harbour, then walked down a little alleyway. Following directions for Tilermans cottage.
We got the key from its key code box outside the property, and went in to explore. It was an old terraced fishermen’s cottage.
We entered into a narrow hallway, filled with maritime objects and framed pictures.
A tiny, but cosy, living room and small kitchen, led to the steepest stairs we had ever seen. You had to virtually pull yourself up using the rail, even Watson couldn’t climb them.
It proved to be quite tricky after a few wines, carrying the dog up to bed..
It rained every day we were in Appledoor. There was one cafe that stayed open (out of season) plus a couple of pubs. There was also a tiny fish and chip shop that opened for a couple of hours, Fri and Sat.
The village was quaint and charming, you could tell when the sun was shining it would be nice.
Walking about, I noticed that almost every little cottage had key codes outside. All dark and empty inside, obviously seasonal lets and holiday homes.
It left me feeling sad for what once would have been a busy community. One cottage was named the old bake house.
I could imagine it bursting with energy, as fishermen’s wives popped in for fresh bread, and gossip..
Towards the end of the week with no news from the consulate, we started to plan where to go next.
We booked a barn loft on a farm in Axbridge, Somerset.
It was almost Halloween, as we drove there in more heavy rain. We left the main road a while back and were now driving down a small country lane, which led to a long private track.
The barn was rustic, we entered through a storeroom, which was filled with boxes of freshly picked apples. The scent was glorious.
There was a little door at the end, which led to our accommodation. A shower room and toilet then a spiral staircase, which took us up to an open plan barn loft.
At the end was a king-size bed, next to a little bay window, which had lovely views of the stables, and hilly fields.
There was a door next to the kitchen area that opened out to a covered decked balcony, overlooking the orchards.
There was a small iron table and chair set, where I spent most mornings. Enjoying my tea, amongst the damp tree tops.
The farmer was busy in the pouring rain, we could see him from our window. Tending to his sheep on his quad bike, feeding his horses, and gathering more apples to press.
The neighbouring farm was selling pumpkins, and had a cute display at the end of the lane. Which we walked past during our many rainy dog walks..
The following Monday morning, after the school run. Our daughter returned home to the postman, presenting her with two letters to sign for.
She rang us straight away, as they were addressed to us and had the Spanish consulate logo on the front.
We waited silently as she gathered up the first few lines to tell us.
It read..
We are writing to you, asking for further information, to support your recent application for a Spanish visa.
They demanded to receive this information within the next five days. Or our visa application would be rejected!!
They required a full year of bank statements printed out. Each individual page must be signed by the bank manager, then stamped with his official stamp!
This was for our joint building society account and both our personal bank accounts.
This was not the news we were expecting, and as you can well imagine at this stage of the process sent us into a panic..
We left the dog cosy and walked, with the TV on quietly for company. Then drove an hour away to the nearest branch of our bank, in Weston Super Mare.
They had a large branch of our building society there too.
On arrival we found the bank closed Thursdays, and discovered all the surrounding local branches had been closed down.
We drove for an hour into Bristol. After a long queue, I was told they no longer had a printer on the premises. It was all done digitally!
We drove many miles around Bristol, visiting several branches all telling us the same story.
After a quick lunch we returned to WSM to a branch of our building society. Feeling very doubtful, we waited an hour for the manager to return.
He turned out to be very helpful. When we explained our dilemma, he could see how stressed we were.
He took the time and printed out a huge thick wad of paper statements, signing and stamping each page for us.
This lifted our spirits, but we didn’t know how on earth we would get the bank ones done..
We arrive back at the barn in darkness. Watson is very happy to see us.
In the morning we head to Torquay, taking Watson with us.
I wasn’t feeling very hopeful as I stood in the long queue, but after lots of polite pleading, the bank manager was brilliant. I sat in his office for almost an hour while he printed, signed and stamped!
By the end of the day we had all the documents the consulate was demanding. After a quick visit with our daughter, we left and headed to Exeter.
There we handed over the documents, in a large brown envelope to a courier company. We paid to guarantee it would arrive in time. It was now in the hands of the gods!
A few days later, we booked what was to be our last nomadic accommodation. A lovely spacious apartment in Dartmouth.
It was just what we needed. Lively friendly pubs, cafes and independent shops. With an M and S food shop all on our doorstep. Total bliss..
During our 2nd week here, on Saturday evening, we decided to have a meal out. We were sat down enjoying our drinks, with our food ordered. When my husband received a phone call from an unknown number.
The look on his face was quite alarming! He took his drink and the call outside. It was finally news from the courier company, letting us know when our furniture would be arriving in Valencia. Now apparently!!
They told him they had arrived at the storage unit in our little town (at 8pm Sat night) and it was closed!
It didn’t open on weekends. It clearly states online and we gave them all the details months ago!
My husband rang the owner of the storage business, in sheer desperation and luckily she picked up the call. She was at a family wedding close by, and offered to go and open the storage unit and let them unload our stuff. Truly a wonderful person!.
Finally, during our third week in Dartmouth, our daughter received two recorded delivery letters. Addressed to us and obviously from the Spanish consulate.
This was it, she quickly rang us, while opening the letters. Inside were our passports, no letter or anything else with them.
At first we thought the worst, when our daughter said wait!
There is a stamped page in both of the passports that says Visa for Spain, valid for one year!.
Two days later, on a cold and frosty late November morning, (still dark.) We said goodbye to Dartmouth.
With bikes on the roof and Watson in the back, we finally start our Journey to Spain!
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Blog 5
Our new life in Valencia..
Bon voyage!
We drove 300 miles to the euro tunnel terminal in Kent. This took us just over seven hours.
First we arrive at the pet reception. Watson and I joined a long queue of people with their dogs. Most were show dogs and very well behaved.
I handed a lady behind the counter, all the paperwork from our vet, that thankfully was in order.
Then two ladies, with eight Afghan hounds came in. The hounds were jumping about and quite unruly.
The place quickly turned into chaos, the calm and well behaved dogs now all barking. We were glad to get out of there.
We drove towards the main terminal, where we boarded our train.
Staying in the car, as the train took us under the English Channel. It was a little claustrophobic but thankfully after thirty five minutes, we arrived in Calais, France.
We drove another three hours, until it was almost dark. Arriving at our overnight accommodation.
There were six cute looking motel rooms in a line, with a restaurant at the end.
We were in the village of Somme, which was famous for the battle of the Somme in 1916..
We didn’t get much sleep, people were arriving throughout the night, which made Watson bark. He thought he was protecting us from intruders!
After a good continental breakfast, we joined the same road from yesterday and stayed on it for the next 8hrs.
The views were quite featureless, flat fields for hundreds of kilometres, with the occasional wooden farm structure.
We stopped at a couple of service stations, it was exciting to hear people speaking in French.
The food looked much better than is offered at most British service stations, and we ate some good quality cake and coffee.
All the savoury options had ham or other meats in. We have both been vegetarians for over 35 yrs. We were used to this especially in France.
For the next 8 hrs we travelled in pouring rain, and again drove until dark..
Checking into our next pre-booked motel we were told that its restaurant was closed on Sunday evenings.
No food would be available until breakfast. They were only able to offer us cans of beer, water or wine!!
After driving around in the dark and finding nowhere open, in desperation we googled, finding a Mc Donald’s in the next town.
Breakfast egg muffins were the only non meat option, so we ordered 2 each, and a burger for Watson..
After an underwhelming continental breakfast, we started our last day of driving through France. Later today we were due to enter Spain via the Pyrenees Mountains.
From the moment we set off it was torrential rain, and it didn’t let up for our whole day’s journey.
We stopped several times for refreshments, mostly to keep alert, and walked a very reluctant Watson in the rain.
After several more hours on the road we came to a kind of check point. We assumed it was just another toll road, as we drove into a line.
I noticed a woman in one of the booths frantically waving her arms about and pointing to us. Just in time we realised our bikes on the roof were not going to clear the headroom!
With the rain still torrential none of us got out, but we looked over at her with praying hands and big smiles..
This we later realised was us entering Spain. Quite unremarkable really, apart from our near miss of course!.
The next leg of our journey should have been exciting as we were now in Spain.
But we were about to drive over the Pyrenees Mountains, in near apocalyptic weather conditions.
The spray from oncoming traffic meant we had zero visibility.
As we journeyed further up, the torrential rain turned into hail.
Back in England while we were planning this journey, I had asked several times, we aren’t going to have to drive up any mountain roads are we? No No No always came the reply.
We will drive around the mountain or go through a tunnel, don’t worry. Mountain roads with high drops are my biggest fear.
When the visibility allowed, I could see a drop of around half a mile down the mountain, right next to our lane.
It was completely terrifying, but we couldn’t exactly turn around, we had to keep driving up. The roads were snaky and bendy to make matters worse..
We finally arrive at our accommodation. It was down the other side of the mountain, towards the northern Spanish town of Pampalona.
There were only a few moments of daylight left. We were traumatised and utterly exhausted.
Thankfully the hotel was a spa hotel (It cost the same as both the French motels.)
We were greeted with a warm welcome, and within 30 mins of being there, I was taken to a hydro spa. which I had all to myself (total bliss!)
When I returned to our room, an hour later. My husband was sitting on the bed, in a thick luxury robe, watching football on a huge plasma TV.
Watson had warmed chicken breast and biscuits brought up to our room.
Later they brought up a large tray, filled with local cheeses, olives, and warm bread with local Navarran wine.
We thought we had died and gone to heaven.
It would seem the French could learn a lot from Spanish hospitality..
After a wonderful night's rest and an absolutely exquisite breakfast. We said our goodbyes to the friendly and kind staff, and started the final leg of our journey..
After a couple of hours on the road, the rain completely cleared. Blue skies joined us for the rest of the day.
The scenery was becoming much more interesting. We drove through several wine regions, including both our favourite Spanish wine, Rioja.
In the distance were mountain ranges, peppered with hundreds of wind turbines. The plants were becoming more exotic with desert like cactus and aloes starting to dominate the landscape.
We kept seeing signs saying Barcelona 500 kms for what seemed like forever. At times feeling like we were getting nowhere.
Then we saw our first road sign for Valencia!
It was starting to get super exciting as the realisation that we were going to arrive soon, hit us both.
South of Valencia City, it started to look subtropical, with miles of orange groves.
The mountains were now covered with rich green vegetation, and against the bright blue sky, it looked exotic and wonderful.
At last, we saw the sign for our little town, and turned off. We drove past masses of orange groves on the outskirts of the town.
There were dozens of crates full of freshly picked oranges, piled high, along the side of the roads.
Following signs to the old town area, we collect the keys for our rental. Then drive to the beach..
Sitting on the sand, peacefully looking at miles of flat white sandy beach, a gentle warm breeze envelopes us.
Watson has a big smile on his face.
We had finally made it!
Watson enjoying the view, from our Dartmouth apartment...The barn loft air b&b with the glorious Cider apples, Axbridge...Beautiful river Dart views
Blog 6
Our New Life in Valencia.. Cockroaches the size of lobster!!
We found our little rental house up in the old town.
As soon as we excitedly stepped inside it became obvious the place hadn’t been cleaned. There was a strange damp musty smell.
The agency came and cleaned the place a few days later.
But for the first couple of days, as I opened a kitchen drawer, I would see large pairs of long whiskers moving, and scream with surprise!
We would see them frequently about the place. Walking up the white walls, they were quite large, but harmless enough (cockroaches!)
The ancient terraced house had 3 steep, open staircases. The third set led up to its roof, which had been renovated into a terrace.
It was quite high up and had views over lots of other rooftops. I had thoughts of Aladdin jumping from roof to roof escaping his captors, in some arabic land.
The beautiful church we had sat near in July, with its blue and gold dome, was so close I could almost touch it. (The bells will feature later!)
We spent most of the first week relaxing up on the roof. Bathing in glorious warm sunshine, under clear blue skies.
However as soon as the sun went down, around 5pm, the temperature would quickly plummet.
It was quite shocking, to go from sunbathing to needing a puffa jacket and scarf!
It was tricky knowing what to wear, the old town in particular was very traditional and most of the Spanish living there were elderly.
They dressed in dark coloured winter clothing, with thick coats, as they went about their daily business.
To me it felt incredibly warm during the daytime, around 22degrees celcius. So I would go out dressed for a summer’s day.
This made me stand out like a sore thumb. I caught several glances, and finger points, from a group of elderly ladies, chatting as I passed.
For the first couple of weeks, when walking about exploring on my own, I felt like I wasn’t very welcome..
I learnt that most of the Spanish had left the old town. Relocating to the modern part of town.
Choosing to live in apartments with lifts, air-conditioning and heating. Overlooking its tree lined paseo with playparks, cafes and shops.
The ones remaining have seen many changes. With English and other northern Europeans, Moroccans and gypsy’s moving in..
Over the next few weeks I made an effort to wear darker clothing. Searching my bags for thin, but long sleeved tops, as not to stand out..
In England I had worked with elders helping them to make positive changes in their community.
So it felt strange for me not being able to talk to them.
I had learnt a few key words from my online Spanish lessons, but I was far from being able to hold a conversation..
One afternoon as I was on the roof terrace, a musical band came past. Flutes, clarinets and drums were all being played, dozens of children were following behind.
Mothers and Grandmothers were proudly holding homemade cakes decorated with ribbons and bows.
I quickly ran down the three flights of stairs, and managed to follow the possession up to the little square.
They continued to play their instruments outside the church. People were sitting on benches in the square, enjoying the spectacle in the sunshine..
It was Friday, which was market day. We were both excited to see it again, as we visited it back in July.
Dozens of stalls were filled with colourful vibrant fresh produce. Just wonderful for early December!
There was a lively, happy energy, old Spanish ladies were keenly filling their shopping trolleys with fruits and vegetables.
These trolleys I noticed, were also used to bash into any legs that got in their way!
I happily went about filling my basket, but soon realised when I purchased a kilo of french beans or peppers, it gave me enough to feed a small army.
But everything was priced per kilo, and it was such a bargain. My red peppers were only 99 cents a kilo!
We had to buy an orange press, after purchasing 10 kg of oranges. The juice was just amazing,the freshest and most vibrant of our lives.
Orange season had just begun. (Nov-April)
The miles of orange groves surrounding the town were absolutely full of them. Rich green glossy foliage heavily adorned with bright orange balls..
I enjoy cooking with a passion, holidays mostly in France were spent trawling markets then cooking new and wonderful dishes.
To me I felt like a young child in a sweet shop, having access to such heavenly produce.
Blog 7
Our New Life in Valencia.. Gipsy Kings!
We walked to the bar nearest our townhouse. Which we had visited back in July, on my birthday, enjoying our sangria as the sun set.
Receiving a warm welcome from the owners. It felt comforting to chat with other people from England.
The little bar soon became busy. Unbeknown to us they were showing a new episode of a place in the sun, live on their TV.
The episode was filmed here in the old town last year!
The couple from the programme were due to arrive in the bar soon, as guests of honours.
They bought a property in the show, and had become regulars in the bar.
We sat with a large group, and enjoyed watching the show together.
Unfortunately the couple missed the whole event as their flight was delayed. They arrived with everyone cheering, just as the programme finished.
It was quite surreal, after all the years we had been watching the programme back in the UK..
Any of the properties shown in this latest episode, would have suited us. They were all very similar to what we had been seeing online for the past year.
The following morning we popped in to see several estate agents. They all told us that there had been an influx of northern Europeans, buying property in the area.
Post Covid, sales had gone through the roof, with people viewing online, paying the 10% non refundable deposit to secure, then purchasing.
All the properties in last night’s programme were sold over a year ago!
One of the agents told us to imagine a tree full of fruit, and all that was left were the rotten ones on the floor!
Interestingly the Spanish agents we spoke with advised us against buying in the old town. They told us that it was known locally as Gipsy town..
Spanish Roma, known as Gitanos have deep historical roots in Spain. There are around 750,000 Gitanos living in Spain today, with around half its population in Andalusia.
Gitanos have their own value system, (gipsy laws.) Despite their long history in Spain and their contributions to its cultural identity. They continue to experience social exclusion, poverty and discrimination..
When I used to dream and think about Spain, my mind always conjured up images of beautiful Flamenco dancers. In those gloriously wonderful dresses, with men dressed in ruffled shirts, passionately playing flamenco guitar.
Rather naively, I am starting to realise that this is not typical Spanish culture, but Spanish Gitanos culture!
I just love traditional Spanish music and flamenco. I have been a huge fan of the Gipsy Kings music for almost four decades!.
The Gipsy Kings, who are all related, were born in Southern France. Their parents were Spanish Gitanos, who fled Catalonia during the Spanish civil war. (1936-1939). Along with hundreds and thousands of Spanish citizens, to the safety of refugee camps in Southern France.
(I will write more about their civil war another time)..
It was the week before Christmas, so we bought our first ever artificial tree.
I read that the Spanish enjoy a family meal on Christmas Eve, Christmas day is a national holiday, but the children didn’t receive their presents then or from Father Christmas!
They receive their presents on the 6th of January and from the three kings!.
There were already several cultural differences I was starting to notice. When it was dark, on a cold winter night, the little cobbled road outside our front door was busier than in the daytime.
Solo elderly ladies, young teens, and families, were walking to and from the church, shops or cafes still at 10 pm.
Back in Devon our streets were generally empty after dark, when I was out walking Watson, let alone in December!
For Christmas Day, I had heard that a large group, (mostly English) were heading to the beach for a swim.
They had put an invite on the local Facebook group, saying the more the merrier.
As it was a lovely sunny morning, we drove to the beach.
We went to the Red Cross area at 11 am, we recognised a few faces we had seen from the little bar in the square.
A man thanked us all for coming, blew a whistle and everyone ran into the sea.
Well about half did, some preferring to watch with a glass of Cava!
Although it was a beautifully sunny warm day, the sea felt pretty cold. I overheard someone saying it was 15 degrees, which was the same as the sea temp in July & Aug in Devon!
There must have been around fifty of us. We sat and dried off after in the sunshine, watching everyone chat. As they all seemed to know one another quite well.
Later we video called all our family, while sunbathing and enjoying cocktails, on the roof.
It was definitely unlike any Christmas I had ever known before!
Our little rental, on the right, the small white one in the middle.
Christmas greetings outside town hall
Some of us ready for our Xmas day swim!
Blog 8
A new life in Valencia..Barbary Pirates!
We are starting to spend more of our days at the beach. There is a more relaxed vibe there.
I notice people wearing shorts and t-shirts and exercise outfits, while enjoying the warm winter sunshine.
We walk past a fancy camping and motorhome park, just behind the dunes. It's filled to capacity, with northern Europeans escaping the harsh winters at home.
There is a small marina, and sailing club, filled with fishing boats owned by locals. With a beautiful lido, restaurant & bar, looking out to sea.
There is a residential community at the beach.
Some cafes and bars stay open all year round, with two little stores, selling fruit and vegetables, fresh breads, and alcohol. Plus a few good restaurants, a launderette and Tabac.
As you leave the main beach, there is a cycle lane at the side of the main road, which takes you the 2 km into town.
The town has a long tree lined paseo running down the middle, which was once the town’s railway.
The railway used to transport its oranges and other fresh produce around the country.
The town is thriving all year as it is primarily an agricultural working town.
On its outskirts, along with its miles of orange groves, are several fruit distribution centres. Which are big local employers.
Since the decline of the railway, the freshly picked oranges are put into plastic crates then loaded onto huge trucks. To be transported throughout Spain and Europe.
Valencia is known as the garden of Spain, and lots more crops are grown locally, including Avocados and rice.
The paseo is where the weekly market, and its fiestas and celebrations are held throughout the year.
The town has mostly traditional Spanish restaurants, bars and cafes. Most have tables outside on the street.
There is only one small English run shop here.
There are several really good patisseries, much to my delight. Also several little Tabacs just the same as we’ve seen in France.
Along with every type of useful shop or business you could need. Plus several supermarkets, (closed Sundays!)
Housing in this part of town is mostly high apartment blocks, which have shops and businesses below.
Some grander, older apartments, can be found down some of the little side streets.
The old town is separated from the main town by a very busy road, which takes you all the way to Murcia.
As you walk across and up into the old town, you feel transported to a different time zone. It is steeped in history, with parts being medieval.
The old town was obviously built before cars, when its narrow cobbled streets were used for donkeys, mules and horses.
Several of the larger houses have garages underneath, which were once stables.
There are half a dozen nice little bars all but one are run by English, and a vintage type general store.
The skyline in the old town is dominated by two churches, San Roc and Santa Maria. Both have stunning blue and gold domes.
Perched at the top of the town are the ruins of its castle.
The site of the castle has panoramic views for miles around. It was used as a lookout for invading barbary pirates.
These pirates were Moors who once lived in Spain, but were expelled. They came back fierce, plundering and pillaging.
All along the east coast of Spain it is very common for their old towns to be high up and away from the sea.
Pirates would capture locals and use them as slaves in North Africa!
The barbary pirates affected Coastal Spain for many centuries, also attacking its merchant ships..
Standing here, high above the town, admiring the spectacular views, I hear cockerels crowing, from sunny roof terraces below...
New Year's eve was now upon us. After a busy day and several glasses of vino tinto, I am ashamed to tell you we were asleep by 10 pm!
At midnight we are woken by very loud and urgent church bells, like the town was being invaded. They were fast and constant and went on for over an hour.
It was so loud it felt like our bed was right underneath the bell tower!
There was no chance of sleeping, and when the bells finally stopped, the fireworks went off. Happy Spanish new year!
I later found out, on each stroke of midnight the locals eat one grape, twelve in total. It's bad luck for the coming year to those who fail!
The shops and markets sell out of smaller grapes and only the large ones are left.
Another local quirk is, mandatory parking changes to the other side of the street.
If you didn’t know this and left your car on the same side, as you had all year. From 8 am 1st January, police will tow it away and give you an eighty euro fine!
All those in the know, move their cars early to the other side of the street.
However it did make for some interesting entertainment, watching all the chaos. People hung over running down the road, shouting in their dressing gowns.
With half the cars parked on the new side, while dozens are still on the old side, no one can get through, its chaos!.
Property wise, nothing new had come online, plus the agents were closed for all the festivities..
It was at last, time for the Spanish children to receive their Christmas presents!
Today was the eve of Epiphany which is known as king’s day. (Jan 6th)
Each year three men are chosen from the local community, to dress up as the kings. They are treated like celebrities for the day and night.
The day begins with the kings showing up at the marina. A huge crowd awaits them as they arrive.
They have drinks and mingle with the crowds. Then with their entourage they are driven up to the top of the old town. People beeping and cheering as they go by.
There they visit the elderly residents at the town’s only nursing home. They entertain residents, visiting all the rooms.
The main event happens around 7 pm, when a huge procession starts meandering its way through the streets. Culminating at the paseo around 9 pm.
Huge crowds line up all along the route. Cafes and bars have extra tables and chairs out in the streets. Filled with families, enjoying drinks while they wait.
Children fill the balconies of tall apartment buildings, down both sides of the street. Jumping up and down excited to see the kings and parade, knowing they will be receiving their gifts in the morning.
A cable had come loose and was overhanging the route, some of the floats were very high so they couldn’t risk it.
The fire brigade had to come and sort it, which held the carnival up for over an hour. It was freezing cold sitting outside, but it was all worth it.
When the kings float finally came past it was brilliant. They were smoking huge cigars and their costumes were stunning and opulent..
This evening made me feel more positive about being here. It felt like a privilege to be amongst the locals as they celebrated in style.
The view of the church and its noisy bell tower...At night from our bedroom window!
Blog 9
A new life in Valencia..
A Japanese birthday surprise!
For my husband’s birthday, Id rented electric scooters for half a day, in the nearby coastal town of Denia.
It was a gloriously warm sunny day, as we scooted around and explored.
Denia is a beautiful port town, you can catch the ferry to the Balearic Islands from here with your car or as a foot passenger.
You can do a day trip to Ibiza for around 50 Euros, it takes 2 hours.
Denia is very chic and attracts wealthy tourists year round, the fancy yachts moored up here are huge.
Its also famous for its wonderful gastronomy, including its bright red prawns, plus amazing seafood in general.
It holds a food festival every September, with cookery demonstrations and dozens of food stalls, showcasing its wonderful local produce. With the glorious Mediterranean sea as its backdrop!
The views from its modern port looking back towards the town are stunning, with its castle perched high on the top.
It is steeped in maritime history, with lots of narrow terraced old fishermen’s houses, now mostly restaurants.
You can meander through little alleyways and lanes, with cafes, bars and bakeries set in little nooks and squares.
Everything is very stylish and completely charming, it reminds me of places we have holidayed in the South of France.
As you walk up the main tree lined avenue, with its perfumeries, boutiques and champagne bars. Amongst them are little patisseries where you can sit and watch the world go by.
We did just this and the people watching was very amusing, with lots of eccentric types walking about.
We had a Farton, (a little fried Valencian cake) and a decent coffee, a bargain at 3 euros each!
The avenue broadens out towards the top end, with shoe shops, more boutiques, ice cream parlours and cafes.
Eventually arriving at its old town.
Here we found dozens of wonderful looking restaurants. Housed in tall traditional old buildings.
Most with cloth covered tables, outside in a long line, down both sides of the narrow alleyways.
With tempting menus, hand written in Spanish and Valenciana on large chalk boards. Showing the many tapas dishes on offer.
Smartly dressed Waiters were proudly presenting huge dishes of paella, and pouring wine.
The scent of garlic and seafood in the air, with the clink of wine glasses, was intoxicating, as we walked past.
Unfortunately we couldn’t find any tapas without meat or fish, except the standard potatas bravas!
So we had to walk away from the glorious food smells, still hungry!
Back down towards the bottom of the town we came across a charming half alfresco food court, called Les Magazinos.
The choice was again immense. It was very busy, as we had arrived at peak Spanish lunch time at 2.30 pm.
There were huge banana palms and birds of paradise planted in big pots, with coloured lanterns hanging from the ceiling. We pass tall glass fronted fridges displaying fancy cuts of meat, and exotic fruits and vegetables.
Bottles of Cava were popping from tables as we passed.
It was a complete feast for the senses, I could see and smell so many different foods to temp me.
My husband miraculously found two empty stalls at a tiny table, in front of a very small Spanish Japanese fusion eatery.
I mean I adore sushi and all things Japanese!
We sat enjoying some Japanese beers, while glancing over the menu.
The menu was in Spanish, so everything had to be put into google translate!
He finally chose his birthday lunch, a potato and horseradish dish with fresh ginger and lemon grass. It sounded great, so I ordered the same.
After another drink our food arrived, we are totally starved by now. What amazing Japanese delight is before us?
A tiny wrinkled (guessing micro waved) Jacket potato each, filled with tuna and maybe with some ginger, in there somewhere!
My husband does not eat fish, so I ate both of them. While my very annoyed and hungry husband watched!
They were the most expensive and underwhelming jacket potatoes of my life!.
Once businesses started to reopen after all the holidays, it was time to get some bits of bureaucracy sorted.
It is a legal requirement to register with the local town hall, within three months of arriving in Spain.
Also a few weeks later we would be required to get an ID card, from the police station.
The registering with the town hall was the first part of this process, they call it a padron.
The town hall is a grand traditional building, which we had walked past several times since we had arrived.
It has a well manicured little square directly in front of it, with exotic palms, and seasonal red poinsettias, planted all around their trunks.
We take our passports/visas, and a copy of our rental agreement and head inside.
A large armed and serious looking policeman was sitting at reception, who only spoke in Valenciana!
So unable to tell him why we were there, we both walked back out again.
We mentioned this when dropping off our rent a few days later, and the English ladies in the office said, oh no don’t try and do that yourselves, you need a Valencian speaking representative.
They recommended a nice local Valencian lawyer, who had a wonderful multilingual speaking assistant. Who was from Yorkshire!
They got us an appointment the following week. The assistant came with us and spoke to the officials in Valenciana, and it all got sorted.
We also needed to open a Spanish bank account, so she escorted us to the local branch. It was one minute till 2 pm when they closed.
She spoke with a clerk, who could speak English, then said she will look after you, and left us with her.
We were in there for over an hour, leaving with bank accounts open and online accounts with passwords all active.
Pretty amazing service, as they closed over an hour ago.
Definitely a case of who you know!.
I was desperate to get my hair done. It had not been done since Dartmouth and my grey roots were about an inch long!
We had a tiny salon right opposite our rental.
Sometimes when I was on the roof sunbathing, women would hang the salon towels to dry on the line opposite, and peer over at me. I was sure they all had been discussing the stupid English lady, sunbathing on the roof, in her pants and vest in January!
After several attempts with Google translate, I managed to write out exactly what I would like done. I made a bit of an effort with my hair and makeup, long sleeved top and jeans, and went across to the salon. (feeling brave!)
As I walked in everyone stopped and fell silent, just staring at me. First at my head, then straight to my feet. Including all the customers, in the chairs at the sinks.
I showed the young woman who was sent over to talk to me, my phone and she went off and got the appointment book.
She was kind and helpful and we managed to sort it out, mostly by pointing at the days/times on the page.
Slowly the chatter started up again and all eyes were off me.
I left feeling, pleased with myself and half terrified that I was going back in a few days!.
I was starting to realise that most of the locals, speak in Valenciana.
I read that during the Franco dictatorship, which only ended in the mid 1970,s. It was forbidden to use regional languages throughout Spain.
Franco would only allow Castile Leon, the Spanish we learn and recognise from central Spain (Madrid).
Apparently he was paranoid they were plotting against him, using languages he couldn’t understand.
I respect and understand why regions which had been fiercely independent of each other for centuries, would today like to freely use their regional dialects.
The Catalonia region of Spain including Barcelona,the Canary and Balearics islands, speak Catalan, and teach it in their schools with Spanish as a second language!
The Valencian province primarily teaches Valenciana in its schools. With Spanish as a 2nd language.
Knowing this made sense off the times, I had walked into a cafe or patisserie, using my best pigeon Spanish. To be met with a reluctant and bemused look, from the busy assistant.
It was all quite daunting for the first couple of months, but slowly I managed to win most of them over.
I always gave them a big smile, and offered to carry my tray across the road to my table, when they were busy.
It was a lovely feeling after a few months of being here, being greeted with a warm smile.
The more they would see me try to use my Spanish, the more patient they became, with me.
There was even some laughter!.
It is the day of my hair appointment. Once again, as I enter everyone in the building silently stares. First at my face, then my shoes.
I get seated by the same young woman, and I wait for what feels like an hour.
I am glad I have my phone to stare at, although I stupidly forgot my readers, so I couldn’t see much more than a blur!
Everyone was busy and for a tiny space it was filled to the rafters with customers and staff.
As I sat waiting, I felt lonely, like I’d been transported to a different planet. With all the constant chatter and laughter, that I couldn't understand a word of.
But I was pleased with the end results. I do go back a few more times, also taking our youngest daughter along when she visits.
But that is another story all of its own, which I will tell you about later!
The Maginos food court Denia ..
Taken when we popped back a few weeks later...Nice and empty for a quiet drink!
Blog 10
My new life in Valencia..
A bit third world!
It is mid January and several traditional fiestas are taking place around the old town.
Walking Watson this morning, I saw several traders setting up stalls. The triangular signs were dotted around the narrow roads, saying Medieval market.
I looked on the local face book group and found out it is here Friday pm till Sunday pm.
Early in the evening we wrapped up and went along. It was lit up and looked pretty with fairy lights and medieval style bunting, dotted about the stools.
One vendor was selling cocktails, with tiny tables and high stalls to sit at. We pass a very long display of small wooden boxes all filled with herbs and exotic spices.
Some were promising delicious food, but they were still setting up.
We passed a couple of bars with its outside seating, filled with people wrapped up in thick coats and hats. We managed to squeeze ourselves onto a table, sitting next to an English lady who had lived in the town for almost thirty years!
She was good fun and a fountain of knowledge about the local area.
It was so cold, around 3 degrees, so we went for another walk about. The food stalls were now in full swing, we bought some delicious spiced mulled wine and a bag each of hot roasted chestnuts.
I couldn't resist some hot roasted corn on the cobs, which were blissfully dripping with butter!.
The next day, the roads just around the corner from the medieval market were also closed off to any traffic. Several signs had now appeared reading, Feast of St Antony!
Dozens of long tables, with hundreds of chairs were set up in rows, down several narrow roads. Round the next corner we saw a long line of giant cooking pots, like huge witches' cauldrons.
They had fires lit underneath them, each pot had a small group of men gathered round.
Some were proudly stirring the cauldrons with long sticks, some chopping huge piles of onions and others were chucking in hunks of wild boar, rabbit and other game. That was hunted by locals for the occasion, which was obviously not vegetarian friendly!
The sun shone all afternoon, and over 4,500 servings of the stew were served. A bit like feeding the 5,000 from the bible!
As we walked home, we noticed a beautiful display at the end of the road. It was cordoned off with rope and inside were sacks of rice, several large vats of olive oil and several crates of oranges.
It was decorated and made pretty with vases of fresh flowers and little gold statues of angels.
I later read the locals were giving thanks to god for a bountiful crop. The sharing of the stew was part of this beautiful tradition..
I had been noticing that whenever I popped into a little cafe or patisserie. I would see the assistant, (almost always an older woman) peer out from behind their counters. To get a good look at my footwear, as if judging me by them.
I would try to ignore it, but sometimes our eyes would meet and they would hold a stare!
My husband said I was just imaging it, but I knew I wasn’t, as it had happened in the hairdressers too.
One Sunday morning we went along to a market we had seen advertised online. It was a thirty minute drive away, it was known as the Rastro.
As we got near I could see a large market, lined up along the length of the very wide and busy road.
Cars were double parked on both sides, crowds of people were attempting to cross over, in front of us.
We start at the bottom end of the long line of stalls. We passed traders selling fruits and vegetables, I noticed they had different items than we get at our market. This was more ethnic, offering a huge range of fresh chillies for example.
The Spanish are not keen on hot foods or spice, much preferring sweet paprika, nutmeg, and saffron.
I bought some multi coloured chillies and several huge bunches of herbs, basil, mint & coriander. I will make some falafels, my husband's favorite dish!
A few plant stools caught my eye, offering a vast selection of tempting Mediterranean plants. It was very busy it was hard to see everything, especially on both sides as we walked through the middle.
Music from different countries could be heard blaring from radios, as we passed by.
I could smell wonderful aromas from all the hot food up ahead. Dozens of whole chickens were cooking on large rotisseries, set up on trucks.
Churros and empanadas were being cooked before our eyes. Long queues of people patiently waiting, keenly watching the vendors dishing up and serving those before them.
Dozens of Plastic tables and chairs, set up on both sides, were full of people, chatting and enjoying their warm fresh treats. Which were being washed down with either strong coffee or bottled beer.
Beyond the food, stalls were now starting to look like something from the third world. Everything was spilled out all over the floor.
Glass wares of all colours, ancient tools, vintage toys, old shoes. Clothing, small items of furniture, mirrors, jewellery, old kitchen ware. Tons of old pots and pans, now lined the floor, on both sides.
With all the Arabic music playing, it felt like I'd been transported to Marrakesh!
There was so much stuff, making my eyes dart about so fast, as not to miss any treasures.
The sheer volume of people walking in both directions meant you were easily swept away, faster than you had hoped.
The banter was happy and light and the traders all seemed very proud of the wares they were offering.
I felt totally safe, so we split up for a while. I am like a moth to the flame, with plants, and I remembered passing several plant stalls earlier. I headed back towards them, which was not easy in all the crowds!
I had given all my beloved garden and house plants to friends and family. As it is forbidden to bring any to Spain. (Quite a wrench!)
I finally saw the tops of tall fruit trees, so I knew I was close.
There were dozens of fruiting orange and lemon trees, huge banana ⁴palms, birds of paradise, with cactus of all shapes and sizes.
Rows and rows of bright green Mediterranean herbs, all so vibrant and perfect looking. I was in heaven, I admired a huge display of glorious purple bougainvillea, hoping to come back for one, once we had a new home!
For now I settle for a spider plant and a medium sized cactus..
I looked up the species later when back at the rental, it's known as Mexican fence post! Due to its super fast growth, to tremendous heights. It is used for edging boundaries in Mexico. So it won’t be long in its small pot by the sounds of it!
I was feeling very happy with my purchases today.
I met up with my husband a while later, he tells me he was interested in buying some vintage T-shirts. When he had asked for the price, the Trader looked straight down at his feet.
Finally agreeing with me that he had been judged by his shoes!
Beautiful building in the old town, with banner advertising the Fiesta of the Calderas
Blog 11
A new life in Valencia..
An apartment at the beach!
We cycled to the beach this morning, the sun was shining gloriously without a cloud in the sky.
The off white sand, next to the shimmering blue Mediterranean Sea, looked like a dream.
We enjoyed a long walk along the shoreline, there was hardly anyone else around. Just a few tiny sand piper birds, running along in front of us.
On the way back we stopped for a light lunch, opposite the start of the cycle path.
Sat outside eating, we became surrounded by wild cats.
We offered them some of our food, but none of them were very enthused with the idea of eating soya. They also refused our chips, so thankfully they couldn’t have been starving.
I noticed as we were leaving that an overgrown garden opposite, had several plastic bowls filled with dried cat food and water, so someone was looking out for them!.
Back at the town house, sharing a bottle of wine, looking online to check if any new properties had come on. There was this apartment at the beach!
The photo of it was taken outside and opposite, looking back towards its balcony, and Jade green tiled building.
As soon as I saw it I felt, just imagine if we could live at the beach!
But never had we imagined or even considered living in an apartment.
All those months back in England, we had our hearts set on a traditional Spanish town house. Mostly because they were so affordable I suppose. The houses at the beach were much more expensive.
The apartment was with a local Spanish agency, one we had yet to visit. The next morning after giving Watson his walk, we popped in to introduce ourselves.
The estate agent could only speak English as well as we could speak Spanish. There was lots of translating, drawing and pointing going on.
Apparently the elderly owner had passed away, leaving the apartment along with several other properties to her three sons.
The eldest son insisted on being present for any viewings, so we had to wait until he was available at the weekend.
The agent suggested taking us to view 2 other apartments at the beach, which she had the keys for.
We were not very keen on either of them, to be honest, but we thought we may as well.
We drove down with her and went to look at both apartments. They were in the same building, first floor and second floor. (2nd being the top floor)
Our hearts sank a little when inside, they were tired, with dark vintage heavy furniture, filling almost all the space.
Both their balconies were small and completely overlooked from every angle by close neighbours.
The agent told us this is what the Spanish love, as they are very sociable.
Afterwards we both felt deflated, and started thinking the whole apartment idea was totally ridiculous.
When Saturday morning came along, we weren’t very excited to view the apartment.
Because of the high risk of squatting empty homes in Spain, they don’t give out the address of the property to you.
We walked to the agents office and she drove us to the viewing.
We climbed the exterior stairs to the second floor apartment, again this was the top floor.
The eldest brother was sitting on the balcony at a large wicker table, we both shook his hand, he spoke to us but we couldn't understand a word!
Thankfully he left us to be shown around with the agent. The apartment still had lots of dark vintage furniture around the place, but the layout was very different from the other two.
The dominating room was the large square living room, in Spain it is called the salon.
It had dark wood framed patio doors, and the views were wonderful. There was a large villa below with a nice vegetable garden, filled with fruit trees, directly in front, so it wasn’t overlooked at all.
From the living room you could see the tops of dozens of exotic palms, with several mountain ranges in the distance. The balcony was much larger too.
I imagined the apartment completely empty of all the old ladies'furniture and belongings.
I could see how the place could easily take on a much lighter contemporary look.
There were three large double bedrooms, the main one shared the same views to the mountains and palms. Plus two good sized bathrooms.
The only let down was the small kitchen, it looked untouched since 1979 when it was built. It had an oven running from a large orange gas bottle.
The apartment also came with the option to purchase an up and over garage, underneath. This would be the only way we could make living here work. To store our bikes, paddle board and general stuff.
It had its own private parking space and was in a prime position. One small residential road behind restaurants, a shop, some bars, and a two minute stroll to the beach. The grandchildren would approve!
That evening we were both super excited. We started making a list of questions we wanted to ask them, and emailed the agent to arrange a second viewing!..
The next day was another local fiesta in the old town. Yet again the triangular road signs were dotted about the little roads. This time written on them was, the blessing of the Animals!
We had no idea what it was all about, but we headed out, mid morning, with Watson.
As we got to the same area that the cauldrons were, last weekend. We started to see more than the usual amount of dogs and owners.
We passed poodles with pink pom poms on their heads, chihuahuas wearing Jackets and bow ties. A little boy proudly showed us his pet hamster in its cage.
Bigger dogs, several cats in prams! Even a man with a cockerel under his arm.
There was a feeling of excitement and fun in the air, more so than at last week’s fiestas.
It was a cold bright January morning, but the narrow streets were mostly shaded from the sun, as most of the town houses were very tall.
A beautifully adorned horse, pulling a cart, filled with yellow flowers came past.
We followed it and watched several men carefully lift the large floral display from the cart, up onto a raised platform, in the middle of the street.
It was starting to get much busier, and lines were forming, on both sides of the street. With the aim of being as close to the platform as possible.
Soon a priest appeared dressed in long golden robes. Then all eyes moved to the end of the street where a man suddenly appeared on a roof. He was scruffily dressed and smoking a cigarette.
He walked out onto a high thin ledge and with great purpose, pushed a giant gold bell. Its chimes were heard all over the old town.
He kept pushing all his weight against the bell every ten seconds or so, for around five minutes.
A health and safety nightmare really, I was glad when he got down to be honest.
All of a sudden a little walking band, playing clarinets, flutes, and drums came from around a corner, leading a huge possession of people with their pets.
They arrived to where the priest was standing on his raised platform.
Each person, in the very long line, took a turn in presenting their beloved animals. The priest anointed each of them with his holly water, then said a few words.
It was wonderful to watch, we saw parrots on shoulders, dogs of all shapes and sizes, cats in pushchairs, on leads, in arms. Mice, hamsters and ferrets in cages, several cockerels under the arms of burly men. Cock fighting is a big tradition with local Gitanos!
We decided to drop Watson back to the house, as he didn’t know if he was coming or going with it all.
We were trying to squeeze through one of the quieter little roads, to avoid the crowds and long queues.
Then coming straight towards us, was a huge bull with large horns. Happily being led by a young girl with a thin rope!
Behind the bull were dozens of adorned show horses, then a possession of working horses, pulling carts. All being led to get blessed.
Just surreal!
Blog 12
A new life in Valencia..
Disney or ducks!
Today we had the 2nd viewing of the apartment at the beach. This time we met the agent outside the property and the eldest brother wasn’t present.
We felt more relaxed looking around this time, opening all the dark wood louvered shutters, and windows in the bedrooms.
The apartment is south west facing and gets the sun from 8 am until around 2 pm.
The agent assures me during the summer, coming back from the beach for lunch the shade, would be ideal. Saying if it was still full sun, we would have to invest in several awnings.
I had a long list of questions written down, all translated into Spanish.
I asked about the other owners in the building, she told us there was a good year round community here.
Living in the apartment, joining this one was a young Valencian couple.
The large house with its vegetable garden, the balcony looked out to, was owned by a family that owns a local orange juice factory.
She knew the two apartments below were owned by French families, the other two on the ground were locals from the town.
It was fascinating to learn from the agent, a high percentage of local people own properties, in the town, and at the beach.
It is a long held tradition for them to relocate to live at the beach for the entire Summer season!
She also told us that they hardly ever sell these properties. Preferring to hand them down to family.
She said it was quite unusual that this family was choosing to sell.
Most houses and apartments at the beach were either owned by Spanish locals or wealthy Spanish families from Madrid, who have their second (vacation) homes here.
It is one of the few coastal areas in the country yet to be overrun by non-Spanish!
In the 1980 s, they declared this stretch of coast a nature reserve. Lots of different species of birds have made their homes in the beach dunes.
This for now, has kept developers away..
Later when back at the rental, we had lots of information swimming around our heads, but we were both in agreement that we wanted to live there!
We emailed the agent in the morning with our offer, it was 15% less than the asking price. As the kitchen needed completely reforming and there was no air con..
They made us wait over a week for our reply! The agent said that the whole family had to meet to discuss our offer.
Our offer was declined!
We were disappointed, and that it had taken them a whole week to reply.
After watching all those episodes of a place in the sun, with the owners phoning back within minutes, closely followed by celebratory drinks.
They had also stated that they wouldn’t sell for any less than 5% off the asking price..
We decided to take Watson for a long walk, and mull everything over.
We drove to a nearby nature reserve that I had been reading about.
It was quite wild and overrun with tall bamboo and pampas grasses, but it was surprisingly green. It felt really good to be out in the countryside. .
The area is incredibly flat, we walked past many flooded fields, spotting a heron and a cormorant, amongst the tall grasses
I had read that these were rice fields. Rice is still commercially grown here, although a fraction of what it was in the past.
There is a large rice processing factory on the outskirts of the town. We have driven past many times, but never had we imagined that it was grown so locally.
The bulk of local rice is now grown just outside Valencia City. In miles of rice fields, which looks like a giant lake, called the Albufera National park.
You can get a little boat tour, then enjoy a paella, made using its traditional Valencian bomba rice. From many of the nearby eateries.
Paella is a well known Spanish dish, but its origins are from Valencia.
I read that it is close to a religion to the Valencian people, who only serve it for lunch, never dinner!
Every home in the region has a large, if not several, battered well used Paella pans, proudly hanging up.
Traditionally the dish is made using whatever meats can be gathered. Frogs, snails, rabbits, wild boar, are commonly used..
We both realise that we haven't been amongst nature for a while (except the beach of course).
Walking around the nature reserve today feels really good, I am certain Watson feels the same..
I had been reading, much to my amazement, that Walt Disney has ancestral roots in this local area! The Disney corporation desperately wanted this site for its Euro Disney Park, before settling for the outskirts of Paris. (Opening in 1992)
After turning down several eye watering offers from Disney, the local government declared this area as a heritage and cultural site.
Today it is a popular site with international twitchers.
With many rare species of birds, esp water birds, visiting and nesting here, throughout the year.
Like the beach, this is a good way to protect the area from future developers. For now!
Walking back to the car we stopped to admire a huge flock of geese. Flying in a large formation shaped like a giant arrowhead, they land amongst the tall grasses, disappearing from our view..
It made me wonder where they had all journeyed from and how many miles they had all flown.
I feel grateful that they have this beautiful habitat to safely rest.
Blog 13
A New Life in Valencia..
Mohamed and the three brothers!
We made a counter offer, on the apartment,10% off the asking price, which was our final offer.
As soon as we emailed our offer, we went on a day trip to take our minds off it. As last time they took a week to get back to us.
With Watson we drove an hour south, to a beautiful coastal town called Javea.
We walked along the length of its prom, starting from its marina. Which was nestled into a small nook against a huge rock face.
The marina was filled with fishing boats and a few day-trip cruise vessels, rather than the fancy yachts we recently saw in Denia.
We passed a building housing its fish market, just off the quayside. Then dozens of very nice looking restaurants, offering delicious sounding dishes, hoping to tempt us back later for lunch.
The beach was craggy and rocky, contrasting to our flat sandy beach. The sun was shining brightly and the sea was the most amazing turquoise, graduating to almost navy blue, as the waters grew deeper.
It was mesmerising, I honestly couldn't remember the sea, ever looking more beautiful.
As we walked further along, the restaurants and brassieres started to run out, with the coast line becoming even more rugged.
In the distance was a sprawling structure right on the beach. As we got closer it looked very impressive, it put me in mind of a huge bedouin tent.
There were huge planters filled with palms and other exotic plants. Moroccan shaped mirrors dotted about, with a long exotic looking bar, stocked with a myriad of colourful bottles.
There were a few sea grass rugs scattered about the floor, on rustic wood decking..
We sat on a soft low seated couch, on the pebbles, facing out to sea.
Where we enjoy fresh mint tea, and sticky almond pastries. Total bliss!
While here, feeling happy and relaxed, we received an email, saying our offer for the apartment had been accepted!..
We had already found a great local lawyer, so we asked her to help us purchase the apartment. She looked into annual building fees, glanced over the deeds, and by the end of that week, told us, two weeks and it would be ours. Two weeks!.
In the meantime we requested that the brothers clear the apartment, as it was still filled with their Mothers furniture and personal items.
Our lawyer explained that we had our own furniture shipped from England, and it was in local storage.
A few days later she rang saying our request was flatly turned down, and the apartment would only be sold with the old ladies furniture and belongings in!
We went along to speak with the estate agent. She had quite a good report with the family, so we asked her to speak with them on our behalf.
Once again the family refused to leave the apartment empty for us. The agent could tell we were disappointed. She said she knew a man with a van called Mohamed, who would probably clear the apartment, for 200 euros.
She also explained that it was very normal for Spanish people to sell property, filled with a deceased family member’s belongings!
Apparently they could not bear to throw it away.
Two weeks later, the morning our monies were forwarded to the family, our estate agent met Mohamed and his team outside the apartment at 10.am.
She instructed them to completely empty the property, asking us to pop along around midday, with the cash to pay them.
When we walked up the drive we could see an old van parked alongside the apartment, with huge piles of stuff laying on the pavement.
Items were being thrown down from the second floor as we stood there! God knows what the neighbours must have thought, they probably knew the lady as a friend!
When we went up, there were drawers from several cabinets, piled high. Filled with table linens, sewing kits, family games, photos, plates cutlery, glasses, ornaments, bedding, several half-drunk bottles of spirits!
Basically the old ladies personal items from the past 40 years.
We thanked Mohamed and his small team, paid him and left them to it..
The following morning we went to the notaries office, it was very grand. Both our lawyer and estate agent met us there.
We were escorted into a room with a large square table. Already sitting around the table were the three brothers, with their wives, (not our favourite people right now).
It was quite awkward, the notary finally came in and joined us. A few words were said, and our lawyer translated everything for us.
We all signed a contract, we were given the keys and everyone shook hands..
We drove straight to the apartment, it had been fully emptied, but it was now filthy and dusty.
I had bought mops, buckets,cleaning products and spent a couple hours giving it a good clean.
My husband met the man with a van, (who we had found on the local Facebook group) at our storage unit..
I was just sitting on the floor admiring the clean apartment, and the views. When they pulled up outside. I was super excited to see all our stuff again, it was almost six months ago we had boxed and wrapped it all.
It turned out that the man with the van, had a gimp leg, So he called for back up!
Both men were English with good senses of humour, we worked with them both for several hours, until it was all done.
My husband managed to get our bed set up; while I went round reading all the labels, that I had hand written on each box months before.
It was so exciting opening them and seeing our beloved things again.
Our furniture worked perfectly in the apartment, our previous home in Devon also had a coastal theme throughout.
We both worked really hard making it reasonably cosy, for our first night.
Finally around 9 pm, we sat drinking wine and eating takeaway pizza, absolutely exhausted.
It was so exciting, we could hardly wait to sleep in our own super king size bed again, let alone to wake up in our new home!
New blogs below..
PHOTO...The entrance of the stunning Chiringuito Javea.
Blog 14
A new life in Valencia..
The fallas cowboys!
We decided to get the kitchen done straight away. It is the original from when the apartment was built in 1979. The cooker runs off a large orange gas bottle, and the cupboards are made out of thin hardboard!
Our estate agent had recommended a local man, back when we viewed. We gave him a call, and he started the work a couple of weeks later.
We used a spare bedroom as a kitchen, using a camping stove, small table, with one set of cutlery, a plate and cup each.
The kitchen was small, so we thought it would only take a couple of weeks. But we soon realised it was going to be much longer!..
The workmen arrive at eight am, then leave for almuerzo at ten!.
This is a Valencian mid morning snack, usually consisting of beer, wine, or shots, a bowl of monkey nuts, served still in their shells, followed by a hearty sandwich made with half a baguette.
These are filled with egg and potato tortilla, cold meats, cheeses, salad and several pickles. Or with hot meats, stew and gravy.
Almuerzo is a heavily ingrained Valencian tradition. At 10.30 am everything halts, all cafes and bars across the province are full!
The men arrive back around midday, then leave for lunch at 1.45!
For the Spanish, lunch is a big deal, including multiple courses with wine. Most cafes, and restaurants offer a menu del dia, menu of the day.
This consists of a starter, main and dessert, with wine. It was the idea of Spain's fascist dictator Franco.
The price is always affordable between 10/15 Euros.
After such a long hearty lunch, it is tradition to take a siesta!
Most shops and businesses in this and many surrounding towns close at 2 pm reopening at 5.30 pm.
I have heard that some professionals such as dentists, working outside their home towns, will rent small apartments. Which they use for their siesta time!
So more often than not, we wouldn’t see our workmen again until the next morning!.
It is February, and winter has arrived. The mountains we can see from our balcony, are now covered with snow.
We had to go and buy another heater and a seriously thick winter duvet, heavier than any we had used in the UK.
Our apartment like most houses in Spain, is not insulated. Once the winter sun leaves our balcony around 1 pm, I am wearing a thick jumper and sheepskin boots (inside!)
After several weeks, the kitchen looks like a building site, thick dust inches deep, is on everything.
The men work with the large kitchen windows wide open all day, (maybe to let the dust out?)
Making the whole apartment absolutely freezing! By the end of the week we both fell ill, with fevers, headaches, coughs.
My husband was only rough for a few days, but I was ill for two weeks.
One morning, in bed shivering, wearing lots of layers, and a bobble hat! Almighty loud banging started, several moments later, a hammer came straight through the bedroom wall. I could see the builder peering through a large hole at me!
By the end of the morning they had come through the wall in three different places! I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I was mortified that they could see me sweating with fever from my bed, more than anything else.
A couple of weeks later, it was one of Valencia’s biggest fiestas, The Fallas. I read that several brotherhoods from the town spend months constructing huge models, some as tall as buildings.
They will be placed around the town, then on the eve of the judging, one by one they would be set alight! I read that the celebrations go on through the night.
The week leading up to the festival, all we can hear are firecrackers!
Two porter cabins have appeared on the lower part of the paseo, selling them in all shapes and sizes.
I notice young children proudly storing their collections in long wooden boxes, which they carry around. Also it is tradition to dress in faux peasant costumes.
Every open concreted space at the beach, old town squares and main town paseo, is now filled with dozens of kids excitedly chucking them.
The bangs are really really loud. It's quite amusing watching some unsuspecting person walk past, then jump with fright, as they go off.
We were having lunch outside yesterday, watching a couple of youngsters having great fun. Throwing them on the ground, when an elderly man, who was dressed very dapper, strolled past.
All of a sudden a burning ember landed in one of his trouser turn ups. He started hopping about and frantically slapping the bottom of his leg!
The parents sat next to our table, had to get their wallets out and compensate him..
One afternoon we cycled around to look at all the models.
It was like a trail, finding each one placed around the old town, main town and the beach area.
Some were absolutely huge, half the height of a small apartment block. They were all so bright and colourful, each model had a specific theme, with signs explaining what they represented.
There were several political figures and I noticed some well known American Fast food chains, obesity and Disney were represented!.
On the night of the fallas it was like Armageddon. Hundreds of kids and excited fathers were chucking fireworks and bangers, everywhere you looked. It was like a war zone, glad we left Watson home with the TV on.
The bars and cafes had extra tables and chairs outside, and they were all full. The air was filled with a thick fog of smoke and sulphur, from all the gunpowder. It was just crazy.
Around 8 pm they set ablaze some of the smaller models, then at 11 pm they started with the full size ones.
Each one was attached to a long string of firecrackers, which they lit the end of. You could hear each one crack loudly as they jumped along the string finally catching the model ablaze!
There were hundreds of people watching, and some of the models were over 20 ft high and very close to buildings and apartments. The flames were huge, the bombers (firemen) were standing by with hoses ready, just in case.
Most towns in the province have their own Fallas festival in March. The biggest one is in Valencia City. (You can find some footage on youtube)..
The kitchen was finally finished, after twelve very long weeks. It felt so good to have the apartment back to ourselves. But it was now the day before our daughter was due to arrive!
I spent hours cleaning the thick dust away, before I could put all our things inside the new cabinets and cupboards.
I was still making the spare bedroom look pretty and presentable, while my husband drove to get her from Alicante airport.
We had been using her room as a kitchen for the past 3 months!
We have decided not to get any more work done on the apartment. Both bathrooms are quite retro, but we will just have to live with them.
I think it will take us years to get over the kitchen experience..
Blog 15
A new life in Valencia..
Easter and Orange Blossom!
It was wonderful to see our daughter again. She had flown from Costa Rica, where she had been working for the past 6 months. Managing to squeeze a quick visit to see us, before starting her new job in NZ.
Her visit happened to fall over the Easter holidays, which I had read, was a huge deal for the Spanish.
On Good Friday, we walked up to the old town. We planned to show her the views from the castle and have a couple of drinks, at our favourite little bar in the square.
It proved to be very entertaining, as we sat enjoying our drinks. People were going in and out of the church, and several policemen were directing traffic, looking very stressed.
They were trying to close off the road. The usual little triangle signs were dotted about, asking no cars to be parked here from 8 am this morning. However there were still two cars parked, and they were both right in front of our table.
After a good while two tow trucks turned up, this was no easy thing, on the tiny cobbled thin road. Everyone from the bars were watching as they loaded the cars onto each truck, and towed them away.
Just moments later all eyes turned toward the large gold doors of the church. A huge statue of Jesus, which was on a solid wooden base, the size of a super king bed, came out.
It was being carried on the shoulders of about a dozen men, all dressed in robes, some with strange pointy hoods. If the cars had still been parked there, no way would the procession have been able to pass.
Dozens more people came out of the church, carrying several slightly smaller wooden plinths, covered with beautiful fresh flowers and other religious figures.
It was fascinating to witness people from the community of all generations proudly taking part..
After the processions had finally passed, I noticed an elderly man, in the distance, walking with a crutch. He was staring over to the spot where both the cars had been parked.
I thought to myself, I bet one of them was his. Sure enough it was and it was quite a comedy moment, seeing the police explain it all to him, with dozens of people cheering. Fortunately they felt sorry for him, and one offered him a lift.
Since arriving here the local supermarkets have always been closed on Sundays. Even the towns Spar 7/11 shops, which in England do most of their trading on Sundays. (cafes, bars and restaurants are open.) When walking into town, Easter Sunday, the most sacred Sunday of the year, the supermarkets were open!
It is so interesting to me, to observe and try to understand a different culture..
On the last day of our daughter's visit, we went for a hike. We chose one of the mountains we could see from our balcony.
It was a beautiful sunny day, as we gently climbed. Walking amongst cactus and pungently fragrant wild mountain herbs. Both Rosemary and Thyme were in full bloom.
Bees were buzzing all around the purple and deep blue tiny blooms, I couldn't resist picking some, and had several thoughts of how I would use them in the kitchen.
We sat for a while near the top taking in the glorious views. Over miles of orange groves, rice fields, with the Mediterranean sea in the distance.
On the short drive back, we had the windows down to enjoy a breeze. All of a sudden the whole car was filled with an intoxicating floral scent. We pulled over at the side of the country road, and got out.
The orange trees that had fruited early, were now in blossom. The flowers were beautiful, white and waxy like tiny orchids, and the scent was just exquisite.
This was especially special for me, in the past I had bought wholesale essential oils, making my own blends to sell. This was many years ago when the children were young, but orange blossom oil has always been my favourite scent.
In Aromatherapy this beautiful delicate floral oil is used to treat symptoms for emotional stress and grief.
Several years ago, I visited a perfume museum in Grasse, France. It was fascinating to see the vintage copper equipment, used to extract the essential oils. From rose, Jasmine and orange blossom flowers, sought after by high end perfumeries around the world.
Orange blossom oil is known as Neroli, after an Italian princess named Neroli. She insisted on the fragrant blossom being used in her wedding bouquet. This is still a tradition for Italian brides today..
After enjoying a little siesta, we sat on the balcony sharing a bottle of chilled vino blanco. With views to the mountain we had earlier climbed.
I make a focaccia using some of the wild rosemary, with a fresh tomato, thyme & garlic sauce.
Life is good..
Our daughter in Costa Rica.. The Easter procession at sunset and dusk, around the three parishes of the old town, Good Friday.
Blog 16
A new life in Valencia..
"The Pees"!
Apartment living is going well, and its been wonderful to use the new kitchen.
The market on Friday was full of juicy apricots, so obviously I bought a kilo. By the time I got them home, in the heat of the midday sun, they were very ripe and desperately needed something doing with them.
I made an apricot compote and some chill jam. We enjoyed it for breakfast over the next few weeks, and the chilli one, went brilliantly with Spanish goats cheese for suppers.
The weather is sunny everyday, creeping up towards twenty five degrees, just perfect! We had been hearing from several people, last summer had been extremely hot for most of July and August. With the temperature often hitting the mid thirties.
So we asked a local firm to come and install an aircon unit in the living room. If we closed the door off to the hallway, and left our bedroom door open it would easily keep both rooms cool, when the really hot temps arrive..
I am excited to get the balcony looking nice, so we head to a garden centre, in the next town. It is set amongst the orange groves and there is a resident parrot, flying around the place, called Charlie.
I wandered outside, it was paradise. Huge olive trees,all twisted and gnarly, several species of Mediterranean palms, giant cactus, avocado, grapefruit,mandarin & lime trees.
One of the plants I was looking at had a huge praying mantis resting on it, about four inches long!
I tried not to go mad, on my first visit, I had to keep reminding myself that we only had a balcony.
I bought a few bright red geraniums, two hibiscus plants with flowers the size of saucers. Then as we were leaving a huge display of Bougainvillea caught my eye. So one of them also came with us!
I had tried them several times on my porch in England, but they never lasted beyond a couple of months. This stunning purple, climbing plant requires long hot sunny days..
The time had arrived to complete our registering process. We had previously got the padron part from our local town hall, a couple of months ago.
Now we needed an appointment at the larger police station, in the neighbouring town.
The same helpful multilingual assistant met us outside the building, and we went in and waited to be called up. The room was large and open plan, with about a hundred seats, filled with people like us, from different countries.
When we were called, all three of us went and sat at a low counter, with an armed policeman behind.
He asked us both a few questions, such as how long had we been in Spain, how did we travel to Spain, thankfully our assistant translated everything smoothly between us.
We both had our fingerprints taken, handed over a passport photo each, plus some electronic signing. It didn't take more than 20 minutes.
A month later, two EU ID cards arrived in the post. We are told it is law to carry them with us at all times.
Also we would need to show our card, when a parcel is delivered to our home.
Or if we were to purchase anything large, like a washing machine or new car. The card is also directly linked to our visa and passport.
It was now time for our youngest daughter to visit. I was desperate to see her, as we hadn't seen each other since late September. It was now early May.
She arrived looking paler than I had ever seen her look. She had been surviving the long UK winter and hideously wet spring. Hulled up in her urban Uni Dorms. I urged her to sit in the sunshine, to top up her vitamin D levels, fussing over her making fresh juices and salads.
She was desperate to get her hair done, as it had not been done since she left us in Devon last Sept. I had made an appointment for her in the little salon up in the old town.
They had done a good job with my hair over the past few months, so off we went.
My daughter is quite shy, plus she didn't speak any Spanish, so I promised to stay with her throughout the experience.
As usual, all eyes were on us as we walked into the salon, but they were getting used to seeing me there most months, so it wasn't too bad. I had spent ages translating, exactly what she wanted done, handing my phone over to the young woman.
She took my phone over to all the others and it went very quiet, as they all read our requests. Then all of a sudden, they roared about with laughter!
It was lost in translation, the first half was fine, half a head of highlights, through her dark roots, a trim, with a conditioning treatment, to make her ass glossy and shiny!!
After about three hours, several of the ladies had gone for lunch. The hair looked only about half way through, and the salon had emptied, only the boss lady, and one customer were in there.
I popped to the little bar in the square, which was less than two minutes away. I had a quick iced cola in the sunshine and picked up some water and nuts for my daughter.
As I walked back into the salon, Both the boss lady and the other older women were standing over my daughter, as she sat in her chair. As I got closer I could see the owner, pinching the skin of my daughter's arm. Fascinated at how white she was, the other lady said to me, she is the most blanco (white) person we ever see!
My poor daughter looked mortified. Thankfully her hair turned out very nice!
The next morning we went out for breakfast, both her and our daughter in NZ, are vegans. So we knew eating out in Spain could be challenging. However the local traditional breakfast was ideal, as it was naturally vegan.
It consists of a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, a strong black coffee, a tostada de tomate, which is a baguette lightly toasted, drizzled with olive oil. With a little dish of fresh ripe mashed tomato, to spoon over it.
Wonderfully simple and a bargain for three euros pp. We sat outside in the sunshine, with glimpses of the Mediterranean.
After a few days spent enjoying paddle boarding and picnics on the beach together, it was time to say goodbye, fortunately only until August.
Several days later, we had a terrific thunder storm. We sat watching a dazzling lightning show from the balcony, ages before we heard any thunder, or saw any rain. Watson got cross with me for staying outside, and started barking furiously.
He wanted me safe inside, It was definitely the loudest thunder I had ever experienced. When the rain came it was absolutely torrential, it was all very exciting. It was only the second time we had seen rain, since we had arrived six months ago!
The next day the skies were once again blue and clear.
Early in the afternoon, our doorbell rang, which was very unusual. There was a man standing there waving his arms animatedly, and speaking words we couldn't understand.
Then he was gone, my husband followed after him, disappearing into the ground floor apartment below.
Moments later, my husband came up, saying grab your phone, you need to go and see the lady who lives in the apartment on the ground. He said he thinks it has something to do with my flowers.
So reluctantly, down I went. When I popped my head round their little gate, a furious lady was waving her arms all about. Then she translated via her phone, that she was very annoyed, as several of my petals had landed on the pavement in her little garden.
I explained that it was obviously from the torrential downpour, last night. These things happen, I say, then sorry, all via my phone too!
Now if Bougainvillea petals gently fell onto my garden, I would have thought I had died and gone to heaven. But she was furious, there were only about four of them!
She was insisting we get a net along the length of our balcony.
A couple of days later, it happened again, with them saying some of Watson's fur had landed in their garden, so to keep the peace, we got a darn net.
I must admit, this did take the shine off apartment living. But thankfully all the other neighbours are nice.
Next door to our apartment, is a young Spanish police man and his partner.
We had spoken with our French neighbours below, and with another French family, when they visited, they all seemed very friendly.
The older lady, in the large house below, with the large vegetable garden, is called Rosa. She is very happy to smile and wave.
Also we have a lovely Valencian elderly couple and their two grown up grandsons, living in a house opposite our garage. They often wave us over and give us different fruits and vegetables. Including some I had never even seen before!
We found out that the petal complaining neighbours are called Paula and Paco. So our nickname for them are the Pees!
Watson... Not impressed with our new net, on the balcony!!
As you can see, ive been and bought several green leafy plants that do not bloom!!
Blog 17
A new life in Valencia..
Mr Gay and the hookers!
The beach is starting to get a little busier, I have noticed lots of new faces around the neighbourhood. Restaurants and bars which have been closed out of season, were now starting to spring to life..
I saw an advert on the local Facebook group, for yoga classes on the beach, Monday evenings at 7 pm. Lately I am missing the company of other women, and feel ready to meet some new friends.
So Monday evening, with my yoga mat under arm, I stroll to the beach. I could see a few ladies with their mats, so I walked over to them. The teacher invited everyone to follow her onto the sand, we all set up our mats near the shoreline.
The beach was peppered with people, some walking in pairs chatting, a small group playing volleyball and others just sitting, relaxing in the warm evening sunshine.
I enjoy the class and arranged to meet the group on Wednesday morning, for another session.
This time afterwards, we all went for coffee, in a cafe just off the beach. It was nice to chat and get to know the ladies, who were all English, except one lady who was American.
I went along both days for the next few weeks, and was starting to get to know the group better.
One woman mentioned that her husband had walked up several mountain ranges in the area, with a hiking group.
She promised to send me the details, as I was certain my husband would love to join them.
The following day we visit beautiful Denia again, this time we head far beyond its port and marina, which we had visited before. Parking up for free, along a coastal road, we join the coast path.
We walk along with the shimmering sea, right beside us. After a while we pass a seafood restaurant that is almost perched on the rocks, with its dining area facing out to sea.
It wasn't open yet, as its still late morning, but as we walked past we could see rows of octopus drying on a rope line.
The craggy rocky coastline reminded me of a Greek island, rather than Spain. We kept walking further until the path eventually ran out.
There were high cliffs at the end, just before they started, was another beautiful looking restaurant, with its large terrace overhanging the sea.
Where we enjoyed bottled coca colas on ice, taking in the views. Just paradise..
On the drive home, we decide to take the smaller road, which was a basic dual carriageway, lined on either side with orange groves.
I notice several ladies, sitting on white plastic garden chairs. There must have been at least seven of them, on opposite sides of the road with half a mile gaps from one another.
Dressed in bikinis, and high heels, some had parasols to sit under, some were reading books, others were looking at their phones. They all glance up, as we drove past.
One woman was parading in her heels hot pants and bra, along the side of the busy road, as dozens of fast cars drove past, in both directions. Quite a distraction!
I later read, they are prostitutes, who take their clients into the orange groves for business!
Prostitution is legal in Spain, but being a pimp is not legal. After the initial surprise of seeing them there, I am hoping these sisters are getting to keep their earnings, and there is no pimp on the scene!.
Later in the week, as we were in town collecting a parcel from the correo (post office). I notice several of the now infamous, triangular little road signs. I couldn't quite make out what was written on them, so I went up close to get a better look. I was sure it said Mr Gay, my husband thought I must have read it wrong. When we passed another sign a few minutes later, he took a closer look for himself.
Agreeing it did indeed say, Mr Gay No parking from 5 pm! Hand written in black marker pen.
We sat outside one of the patisseries, enjoying our Napolitanas (sticky chocolate cake) and coffee. From here we had a great view of a team of men, busy setting up a stage.
It had a long runway coming from the middle, and they were erecting tall metal fencing to enclose the area behind the stage.
Later that evening curiosity had gotten the better of us. We cycled back into town for a few drinks, to see what it was all about.
We got there around eight, the paseo was packed. They were doing loud sound checks from the stage, dotted around were neon pink weighted signs, saying Mr Gay Spain!
After a couple of drinks outside a busy nearby bar, we see large plasma TVs come to life on the stage. House music starts blaring out from the massive wall of speakers. There was great excitement in the air, everyone started walking towards the stage, leaving the cafes and bars.
Several Spanish TV celebrities appeared on the stage, the host getting a huge cheer from the crowds. With some fireworks, glitter and a puff of smoke, the show began.
Then one by one all the oiled up, scantily clad gay men, introduced themselves. Strutting down the catwalk, with some only wearing a thong, and feather bower!
Crowds were now cheering and whistling loudly, the atmosphere was brilliant, the show went on entertaining everyone for several hours.
How local the young men were, I had no idea. I couldn't help thinking they were all pretty brave, considering this was a very traditional town, in a very Catholic country!.
Later I noticed quite a lot of really elderly people, some with walking frames, still out alone, past midnight. Mind you, if they lived in any of the apartments on the paseo, they had no chance of sleeping through this!
At the end of the show, Mr Gay Valencia was crowned, later going to the finals of Mr Gay Spain.
The fun night of the Mr Gay Valencia heats... For Mr Gay Spain
Contestants waiting back stage!
The shows hosts for the evening!
Blog 18
Our New Life in Valencia..
Lifes a beach!
Next week is the official start of Spanish Summer time. There will be a festival held on the beach to celebrate the Summer Solstice.
It is known as the festival of San Juan or the Nit de Sant Joan. I must admit out of all the fiestas and festivals I have seen so far, or read about, it is this one that I am looking forward to the most.
It is the only evening throughout the year, when fires and bbqs are allowed on the beaches. I read it is a long held Catalunian tradition, Valencia is right next to Catalonia and it is also celebrated throughout the whole Valencia province (includes Alicante.)
Both provinces were thought to be the most rebellious during the Franco dictatorship. Hearing this made me feel proud to now be a Valencian resident..
We are now leaving our bedroom windows wide open. With our louvred wooden shutters closed throughout the nights, in the slim hope of catching a cool breeze.
We also have two large fans blowing all night. The temperature has crept up in the day to around 28 dc.
I must admit I have always been a little obsessed with the weather, but since living in eastern Spain, I am totally baffled by it. The warmest part of the day is not 1 pm, like back in England, here it's between 5 & 8 pm..
The beach community is now bursting at the seams. The Madridians (people from Madrid) have arrived at their vacation homes, and locals have relocated the 2 km from their town homes, to their beach homes. Both for the entire Summer season.
Canaries in cages are being hung up outside, as spring cleaning is being done. Places I have often walked past and seen empty and dark, since we moved here in January, are now all springing into life.
When I take Watson for his evening walks, I now pass groups of elderly ladies sitting in gardens, playing cards together. I smile and say hola, but for now they look, with narrowing eyes of suspicion as I pass.
My husband regularly points out to me, every time he sees someone wearing a Real Madrid football shirt. He also tells me they are football enemies with the locals here, who generally support Valencia or Barcelona.
The beach is also a hive of activity, six beach bars known as chiringuitos, are in the process of being set up. Groups of men all along our long beach, are working round the clock, in very warm temperatures. Hoping to have them all fully stocked, ready for next weekend's fiesta!
The Universities have broken up, with students working in bars, cafes,restaurants, or as lifeguards for the Summer season. Much to my joy the town's lidos have finally opened up this week!
I swam the other morning at the marina. I had the huge pool all to myself, just wonderful!
The elderly lady called Rosa, in the large garden below us, has had a huge pile of chairs (about 30), stacked up outside through the winter months. This afternoon, all of them are being used. She has a garden party in full swing, there is music playing and wine is flowing.
We have a little visitor most evenings to our balcony, a wild Gecko. He hangs about on the ceiling above where we sit. Considering we live in an apartment we have had more than our fair share of wildlife this year.
I bought a bird feeder and they are now so tame, we have even found them on our bedside table, one sat on either side, like Peter and Paul!
Then there's the bats, we enjoy watching swarm around the neighbourhood at dusk, while enjoying drinks on the balcony.
One evening one decided to fly into our lounge! Watson and I had gone to bed, while my husband was enjoying a few brandies, watching the late football highlights.
Around midnight a bat flew in and gave him quite a surprise, he tried everything to catch it and get it out.
In the end, after about an hour, he went down to our garage and got one of the grand kids fishing nets. Carefully catching the bat and releasing it into the dark night sky. I can't believe I missed all the fun..
It's Cherry season and at the market this week. I bought two glorious kilos, for a couple of euros. I had only asked for a kilo, but it was towards the end of the market, so he just filled my shopping bag full!
I've just got to decide what to do with them now, as that is a lot of Cherries!
Living here our fridge is always full of wonderful fresh produce. I am currently obsessed with butter beans, I drizzle with olive oil, a squeeze of fresh lemon, toss in finely chopped herbs and garlic, with lots of cracked black pepper. Mop up with crusty bread and enjoy with a cold glass of vino blanco, just delicious!
Our eldest daughter and three grandchildren came to stay. It was chaotic at times, with so many of us in the apartment. We spent most days on the beach, with the paddle board, and a huge bag of sandcastle building treasures. Which I picked up from the local animal rescue charity shop.
The children seemed to live off watermelon the entire time. Watson was running around excited to see them all again, the bats and resident gecko put in a few appearances, much to the children's delight..
It is now the Nit de Sant Joan, we didn't quite know what to expect so we head to one of the newly erected beach bars. The beach was packed, groups of people were grilling fish, sitting around piles of wood ready to be lit after sunset.
I had read that at midnight it was tradition to jump over the flames!
The atmosphere was just wonderful, as we walked along I could hear bongos and guitars being played.
Once it got dark it looked magical, with all the fires lit, the beach looked so pretty. You could see dozens of young children at the shoreline, paddling in the sea, that was now lit up by the glow of all the fires.
It made me feel like I'd been transported to Brazil.
All of a sudden, we noticed lots of people standing up and looking up to the sky. As we looked up, I saw what honestly looked like Santa in his sleigh flying over the beach. Just like in the Christmas movies!
In the morning I read it was Elon Musk's Starlink satellites. I read they were visible over eastern Spain last night around 11 pm. Reported to have looked like a string of lights moving through the night sky!
As we went to leave the beach to go home to Watson, as several fireworks had been going off. The long narrow street just off the beach was in darkness. All the street lights had all been turned off, the street was also unusually free from any parked cars.
All of a sudden we heard the sound of drums being fiercely banged, it was getting louder by the second. Ahead I could see a nervous looking solo policeman, frantically directing crowds out of the way. When a group of men dressed in dark robes, some wearing scary masks, suddenly appeared. Wielding huge chains, with rags woven through that were doused with fuel and set alight, creating masses of golden sparks everywhere you could see.
For a few moments it was terrifying, the drums were so loud, we pushed our backs up against the wall as they passed, swinging chains around their heads. I honestly thought my hair or dress would catch on fire, all the sparks were bouncing off the walls and pavements all around us!
In the morning I thought just how lucky we were to have left the beach at that exact moment. Along with the starlinks, It was a magical night I will treasure forever.
Twisted fire starter....Nit de San Joan
On the beach at Sun set as fires got light!
Crazy fire walkers.. Nit de Sant Joan
Blog 19
Our New Life in Valencia.. The heatwave season!
The constant buzzing from Cicadas can now be heard throughout the night. Over the whirling of several fans, and the air conditioning.
I read they are the loudest insects on earth!
We are in the middle of a heatwave, the temperature has reached 40 dc today with the humidity at 98%.
I thought I liked it hot, but just lately it has felt like breathing through treacle..
Living at the beach now resembles the 4th of July on Amity island.
Young life guards are looking quite stressed, as the sea is packed with swimmers, jet skiers, paddle boarders, and children drifting about on newly purchased colourful inflatables.
People all seem to know one another, I watch as they stop and chat, at the shoreline.
I have noticed teenage girls, being escorted as they walk along the shoreline, by elderly ladies. When a boy tries to stop and chat, she stands right by her side, giving him a frosty glare.
I later read, In Spanish culture, particularly in the Valencian region, Abuelas (Grandmothers) act as chaperones for social events, and outings.
I can't imagine myself putting up with this at 14, all them years ago!.
There are definitely beach rules which they seem to adhere to. In England we enjoy our Cornish pasties, chips or picnics at the beach.
Here at 2 pm, the beach is left almost empty, as the Spanish leave for lunch.
I have often walked past gardens, terraces & balconies, seeing huge dishes of paella being shared.
I see mostly they are cooked by a family member, but some do have them delivered.
I have seen little paella delivery vans, driving around the beach roads, especially on Sundays.
They also deliver to some of the chiringuitos. Last weekend there were dozens of wedding guests, sitting at tables under the shade, paellas were delivered, then served to all the guests..
Some evenings when we come to enjoy the breeze, I have seen dozens of large fish leaping out of the sea, possibly mackerel, although a fisherman at the marina came back with a huge tuna last week..
I must say we are starting to slot into the Spanish Summer quite nicely. After the morning at the beach, late afternoons are now lazily spent, with the aircon on, enjoying a few drinks after lunch. With the hope of inducing a little siesta!
We go out and sit on the balcony most nights, when its cooled down a little.
There is a wonderful energy, with corks popping, ring pulls being torn up, from cans of cold beers. BBQs are starting to sizzle, as different food scents fill the air.
A nearby neighbour often plays the clarinet and I enjoy trying to name the tunes.
The theme from the Godfather and the classic Stella Artois advert are often played, much to my delight.
There is a pleasant low hum of different conversations with bursts of laughter coming from the gardens, and balconies around us..
These last few weeks, managing the extreme heat is my biggest challenge.
I am showering six times a day, plus the cold tap is now coming out really warm!
I really do not know how the Spanish women manage to look so unfazed and glamorous, in these temperatures.
I notice them with their long shiny hair, down their backs, dressed immaculately. I am having to wear my hair pulled back so severely, with no make up or moisturiser, as it just slides straight off.
All I can bear to wear are very loose, cotton sundresses, which I thought looked continental chic, with my Birkenstock sandals. Until my husband said, I resemble Miriam Margolyes!
On the evening of my 55th birthday, after a relaxing day spent on the beach. Fresh from our siestas, we head out for birthday dinner.
As we walk to the far end of the beach, we hear live music in the distance, following the sound to one of the beach bars on the sand.
The music is just what I had been longing to hear, since arriving in Spain eight months ago, traditional Spanish music!
It was brilliant, ladies were dancing flamenco style, I danced on the sand for almost two hours. The singer called Rumba Patti, even sang several Gipsy King songs.
It really was the perfect way to celebrate my birthday, and to have just stumbled upon it, made it more special..
Walking home after midnight, the seating outside the restaurants we passed, were packed. Crowds of people waiting for seats to become available.
I noticed most were tucking into plates of heavy food, like steaks and potatoes, with wine, even little old ladies.
Can you just imagine seeing this in England after midnight!.
Since arriving last November, every few weeks we have seen and heard a small black car, with a large speaker on its roof.
It drives past slowly, blaring out very loud words, which of course we do not understand.
It happened when we were renting up in the old town, as well as down at the beach. For all these months we had assumed it was a local MP, drumming up supporters ready for the next local election.
But just lately it has been driving around our neighbourhood much more frequently.
I finally got around to looking it up, it turns out it is announcing someone's death!
It has been a local custom here for many years, to inform the community who had passed and where the funeral was being held.
I am guessing we have heard the death car, as we now call it. A lot more, just recently, due to this heatwave!.
Interestingly I read it it customary in Spain for a burial or cremation and funeral to take place within 24 and 48 hours after death!!.
It is the third week of July and time for the biggest Fiesta of the year, the Moros y Cristianos festival.
I read it is a vibrant cultural event that commemorates the historical battles and cultural exchanges, between the Moors and Christians. During the battle of the Reconquista period.
It is celebrated throughout the whole province of Valencia.
I read that the Moors ruled Spain for almost 800 yrs, from 711-1492. They were a sophisticated civilisation that greatly contributed to Spanish culture.
It is no wonder that the Valencian province would want to honor and celebrate the Moors, as I read they gave the region their great agricultural advancements.
It was the Moors who gave the Valencians their Orange groves, genius irrigation, allowing them to be known as the garden of Spain. Also rice and saffron for their beloved Paella!.
According to the programme that has kindly been translated and shared on the local facebook group. There will be a big procession of the Christians tonight, at 8 pm in the town's paseo.
Then at sunrise at the beach (around 5am!) The invading moors will arrive via boats with some sort of battle re- enactment, followed by the moors procession through the town at 8 pm Saturday night..
After walking home around 2 am Saturday morning, fresh from Friday night's celebrations, our alarm goes off at 4.30 am. Blurry eyed, we get dressed leaving a very curious Watson behind, and head to the beach.
The sun slowly came up, and little boats started to come around from behind the entrance of the marina, they came ashore, dressed as pirates.
Several beautiful horses appeared for them to ride across the sand towards a huge model of a castle. It was all very surreal, then dozens of men appeared and fired muskets.
The noise was insane, I had to put my hands over my ears, they went on firing for ages. Then fireworks were set off from the jetty.
The Moors procession later that night was just brilliant, the costumes were totally amazing. The effort that had gone into making them was astounding to me.
In such a small town it was like something you would have expected to see in Rio.
How they managed in this extreme heat, in those costumes, when sweat was just pouring from us, as we sat watching enjoying our cold drinks.
Almost every Spanish woman I could see sitting outside the bars, were keenly fanning themselves. I felt quite inadequate without one, I will make sure to purchase one asap..
The whole of August was one continuous long heatwave. The local sea temperature reached 29.5 degrees! It felt like swimming in tea.
The nights were now too hot to go out onto the balcony. There are concerns about serious drought, there have also been several large wild fires in the region, so a ban has been put in place. No fires or BBQs, until October..
We took Watson with us to Alicante airport to pick up our youngest daughter. To get him out of the house, as we could only give him very short early morning and evening walks during the heatwaves.
He was super excited waiting in the beautifully cold airport, and enjoyed snuggling up next to her for the journey home. He was after all her dog!
She stayed with us for a week. We attempted to go for a day trip one day, but after walking for five minutes from where we had parked, we all decided to give up and go back. It felt like our brains were being cooked!
We passed a pharmacy on our way home. Its neon sign read, the temperature was 44 that's 111.2 F!
The produce at the Friday market this week was perishing before my eyes. The poor traders had all the shade they could manage, but it still failed to protect their now over ripe wares.
We have mostly been living off fruit and salads, although I did bake a quiche this week. Which was quite an endurance, having the oven on for an hour.
My reward was a beach picnic, under our large parasol with a heavenly sea breeze.
I must admit I am longing for the cooler days of Autumn now..
PHOTOS.... Real Camels!
Wonderful costumes..
The Moors & Christians festival
Blog 20
Our New Life in Valencia..
Wind & Wildfires!
The date palms dotted around the neighbourhood are now hanging low, heavy with huge amounts of golden ripe fruits.
The pavements below are all sticky and stained.
After the long dry Summer with its record breaking temperatures, (following the driest Spring ever recorded.) Spain is now in serious drought.
Due to the lack of rain back in the spring, the buds on the olive trees shrivelled up, resulting in a drastically reduced harvest of olives.
I read that Spain is the largest producer of olive oil in Europe, and it supplies over half of the world's demand.
The cost of Olive oil in Spain has increased by 70%, recently climbing to ten euros a litre.
For the Spanish, olive oil is sacred, being an essential part of their existence. It's definitely not seen as a luxury item.
They pour it over their bread several times a day, and cook everything with it.
There is talk of a black market offering fake oils, and I noticed in our supermarket this week that security tags have been put on all their olive oil..
After several days of eerily low thick cloud and white skies. Which felt like living in a black and white movie, today is a perfect late Summers day. With its vibrant, piercing colours returning to dazzle and renew the senses.
It's the last weekend of September, and time for the long awaited Denia food festival.
Set along its narrow prom, the sparkling Mediterranean sea and dozens of gnarly ancient pine trees, as its backdrop.
The festival looks glorious in the distance, as we approach.
Walking along the prom there are several cookery demonstrations, in full swing. With chefs busy preparing huge dishes of paella, from makeshift kitchens, drawing in large crowds.
I glance at a program and read chefs from Mexico, Japan and Ibiza, as well as many chefs from regions all around Spain, are cooking here over the weekend.
We pass several more paella vendors, proudly decorating their huge wide round pans, with large langoustines and other delights from the sea.
A stall selling locally produced wines, from the nearby Jallon valley, catches my eye!
Towards the far end of the festival, I notice a mass of people, and by far the longest queue. Even when we were close by I couldn't see what was going on, but people were coming away with small plates piled high with jet back offerings.
After a closer look.. Squid ink paella! Oh the Valencians do love their paella..
We found a beautiful spot to sit, looking out to sea, as we sipped our award winning vermouths. While nibbling on some pinchos, of olives, pickled chillies, and mini gherkins, skewered on cocktail sticks!
The island of Ibiza is only 30 miles almost in a straight line out to sea, from where we sit..
On our way back to the car, we pass an Argentinian bakery, selling little goats cheese and honey, empanadas.
We enjoy a couple each, they were utterly delicious, and a bargain, at 2 euros each!.
As I take Watson for his evening walk, we pass the usual group of ladies playing their card game. They finally acknowledge me saying “Adieu”, all waving and smiling as we passed, (possibly tipsy!)
This turned out to be their last night, as when we passed the next evening, all the white metal shutters were down. Returning to their town homes as Summer comes to its end.
A bad storm was forecast just a few days later, and groups of men were working hard to take down all the chiringuittas (beach bars on the sand)..
The couple that were left up were half washed away by the strong winds, resulting in large pieces of wood being scattered all along the beach.
The storm definitely announced the arrival of Autumn..
We have just six weeks left until our Spanish visas expire, it is now time to apply for our renewals.
I honestly can't believe how quick the time has gone. A year ago, we were just starting our nomadic life, waiting for our first visas to be approved. Back in England!.
One of us would need to go back to the UK and gather all the required documents. Along with them all being stamped, translated and made into legal documents by sworn notaries.
Arranging for them to be couriered back to our lawyer here, who was applying for the renewal on our behalf.
One of us would have to stay in Spain with Watson..
A few weeks later my husband left for his six day trip to the UK.
It was the first time that I had been really alone in my entire life. Our home was always busy and full. With our three daughters and their friends, there had always been someone home.
The first couple of nights of being alone, I started to feel quite liberated, catching up with my reading, watching the whole new season of rhobh (my guilty pleasure).
I did sleep leaving several lights on!
The third afternoon a very strong wind storm decided to arrive!
My yoga class, and meet up afterwards was cancelled, I could see flying debris from the windows, throughout the afternoon and evening.
I went searching for candles and a torch in case the power went. As the power lines I could see from the windows were currently being savagely tossed about, like they could be ripped out at any moment!
Throughout the night the heavy wooden shutters in all our rooms would bang and rattle. Occasionally one would forcefully fly open, smashing hard against the wall. Waking me and Watson, with a fright.
In the middle of the night, when I looked out of our bedroom window. Towards the mountains, the whole sky was a glow of orange in the otherwise dark night sky.
In the morning out on the balcony the air was filled with the scent of acrid smoke, and the sun was engulfed by a thick haze of low cloud mixed with smoke.
Wild fires were raging in the distance. I was seeing photos on the local facebook group, and I was very grateful to hear where the fires were. Although they looked close, they were several valleys away.
Thankfully after a few days the fires were extinguished, and my husband had returned from his trip..
Since deciding to emigrate, I have been taken out of my comfort zone in so many ways. As a creature of habit, known to be anxious about change, I can see how it has forced me to grow in many different ways..
A couple of weeks later my husband went for a group hike, on the edges of the valley that was badly affected by the recent wildfires. He said they walked amongst blackened charred dead trees and it was eerily silent. He said it was very unnerving.
My twice weekly yoga classes have now moved from the beach up into the old town. On a large roof terrace, for the Autumn and Winter months. Mainly due to strong winds blowing sand in our faces!
The weather here is always a great source of fascination to me.
It's now late October as I look out of the window, to moody grey skies. Watching tall palm trees fiercely bending and swaying in the strong winds. Expecting it to feel chilly when I step outside.
Instead as the winds are coming up from Africa, it still feels incredibly warm!
I wonder, will I ever get used to it...
Paella cook off ..Denia food festival
Stunning prom walk..Food festival Denia.
New blog coming soon..
Blog 21
A new life in Valencia..Papayas & Pomegranates!
Today is the Dia de Todos Santos. Also known as The Day of the Dead! November 1st is a national holiday in Spain, it's also celebrated throughout Mexico.
It is the busiest day of the year on the roads. With people leaving the larger cities en masse, as they drive back to the smaller country towns and villages they are from.
Visiting the cemetery, laying flowers, biscuits or sweets on loved ones, friends and ancestors graves. Some have family gatherings, sharing cakes and wine traditionally roasting chestnuts by the gravesides.
Cemeteries all over Spain have long queues of cars waiting to enter. As it gets dark the graves are lit up by candles, making all the decorative displays and colorful flowers look magical..
I noticed at this week's market there were several new stalls selling colourful silk flower arrangements, which the little old ladies couldn't get enough of.
The usual fresh flower seller had doubled the size of her stall, and had very long ques. I read it is one of the busiest times of the year for florists throughout Spain!
After the cemetery, families get together, sharing a meal. Often lighting a candle next to a beloveds photograph.
Such a beautiful tradition..
Our Valencian lawyer has applied for our visa renewals. She tells us it may take several months to be processed. We are not able to leave and re-enter Spain during this time!
If a dire emergency occurred she could write a letter that would hopefully allow us to re-enter. Warning us that she would only be able to issue it once.
Oh the joys of brexit.. I am hoping everyone stays well back home!
The days are warm, so we are still enjoying breakfasts on the balcony most mornings. I made Shakshuka, for the first time this week, a Mediterranean breakfast dish. Fried eggs on top of a brightly coloured fresh pepper stew. I highly recommend it!
I currently have a carrier bag filled to the brim with pomegranates, a gift from our elderly Valencian neighbours. They are in season, trees in the country side are filled with them.
I read they are packed full of powerful antioxidants. We will live to 100 at this rate!.
We enjoyed a wonderful outing a couple of days ago. Walking along an old railway track. After walking through a couple of seriously long dark tunnels, with our torches, we came out to an absolutely stunning, riverside walk.
Set along the valley floor of a gorge. It would have been a fantastic train journey, winding through the thick rocks of the high gorge, alongside the snaking river, with tall pines dotted about its rocky terrain.
We went with the couple who were on that episode of a place in the sun, shown in the old town bar. We have become good friends, hiking and doing yoga groups together. We both took our dogs who were having a great time, enjoying all the new scents.
After our long walk we stopped in the village of Villa Longa for lunch. We found a big table outside, both dogs now resting under it. I had bacalao al horno, cod with potatoes, baked in its little terracotta dish. It was really good!.
It's officially a year ago today, we arrived. I would love to be able to go back in time and whisper in my ear, "a year from now you will have made several new friends and everything is going to be great. Stop worrying, just enjoy it!".
We decided to celebrate the Anniversary, with a daytrip to Valencia!
We first visited Valencia 18 years ago (in our 30s), I can remember it very well. From the airport we took the 20 minute subway ride to Valencia Nord station. Which is next to the Plaza de Toros bull ring.
We strolled around its Mercat Central (market), known as the cathedral of the senses.
We bought a pretty ornate tin filled with smoked paprika, which I still have on my kitchen spice shelf, today!
We rented bikes, riding along the Jardin del Turia, the old river bed. Today filled with subtropical plants, parks and cafes. The river Turia was redirected around the city after devastating floods killing over 80 people in October 1957.
The 9km of river bed is also home to the cities ultra modern biomorphic arts and science park. Surrounded by a body of water, the arts centre is like walking through the skeleton of a giant whale!
We continued our bike ride to the beach, sharing our first ever Paella, at one of the many little beach side restaurants. It was such a romantic trip, we have always remembered it fondly..
Today we arrive by car, parking underground, in the centre of the city. Hoping to experience our first ever Valencian ritual of Almuerzo. ( Mid morning snack!)
After a short stroll, we find ourselves in the Plaza de la Virge, a large elegant square. Sitting outside a cafe with views towards the stunning Turia fountain. Which has a large statue of Neptune bathing in its flowing waters.
We enjoy huge bocadillos, (sandwiches the size of my arm!) Filled with egg and potato tortilla with dishes of assorted pickles and salad. Along with fresh orange juice, a small beer and a plate each of monkey nuts, still in their shells!
I was so full, I didn't think I would be able to eat for the rest of the day! I have since learnt you can order a medio bocadillo (a half size!)
We go for a long walk in the hope of burning some calories. I am so impressed, as I see tall exotic palms alongside ancient elegant buildings. It puts me in mind of Hollywood in the 30,s.
The ancient light coloured stonework is so immaculately clean. I think after Venice, this is definitely my favorite City.
We walk into the Centre Historic, with its narrow ancient lanes, quirky shops, charming cafes and restaurants with small tables in lines or little nooks. Young Couples ride past on hired bikes, heading towards the old riverbed path.
As you come to the end of the old town, or the beginning depending which way round you do it! A huge set of ancient gate towers stand before you, the remaining part of the old city wall..
We had been wanting to try an Agua de Valencia cocktail for over a year, finding Cafe Madrid, almost hidden down a narrow alleyway. Said to be the birthplace of the cocktail, back in the 1940 s.
We sit on high stalls at its small glitzy bar. Watching the bartender, as he prepares our mix of Valencian orange, Cava, vodka & gin!
We toast to our 1st year Anniversary!
Just around the corner we come across a very impressive looking tapas bar. My husband orders a small plate of mushrooms in sherry, with some potato, & cheese croquettes. I had grilled mussels, with a crisp garlic crumb!
Obviously we have a wander around the Mercat Central. We have visited similar markets in Barcelona and France, but this is by far the best and largest one.
Housed in its stunning building built in 1928, it has over 400 food stalls. If you love food and wonderful produce you could easily spend several happy hours walking around..
I used to visit Harrods food hall as a young child, with my grandmother and look in awe at all the foods from around the world. So creatively displayed, we would only purchase a couple of handmade chocolates each, I would always pick a violet and rose cream..
We try samples of Vermouth, with olives and cubes of Manchego. My husband bought a bottle to take home. I buy a little box of Saffron, some dried salted cod (hoping to replicate my baked cod dish in Villa Longa!) A new shiny tin of paprika and a tall bundle of dried Oregano.
Excited with our little purchases, now both ready for a sit down. I knew just the place, for Te’ de la tarde (afternoon tea!) I had read about a fancy cake shop online and had been excited to try it.
We could see crowds of people sitting outside Dulce de Leche Boutique, as we turned the corner into its street. It was like something you would expect to see in Paris. Inside there were rows and rows of pristine artistically decorated works of edible art. I was in cake heaven!
My husband grabbed a table outside while I happily queued inside, changing my mind dozens of times while I waited.
Never had I seen a better assortment of patisserie in my life!
I finally chose a tart, with a dark chocolate crisp pastry base, filled with vanilla cream, topped with fresh strawberry, blackberry, red and black currants. It tasted as good as it looked!.
I had seen an advert on the local FB group to pick your own Papaya and Oranges! So on Saturday morning we head to a little village, about a 15 minute drive away. We follow basic directions to a valley floor at the foot of a mountain.
We see a sign written in English reading, fresh Papaya picking today, and head up a very narrow dusty track. We park up and several small friendly dogs come to sniff us out, then lead us to a ramshackled old farmhouse.
( Set amongst miles of orange groves!)
Two friendly young Dutch women greet us, one holding a tall thin rickety ladder.
We watch as she leans it against a tall tree, climbing up with a large knife in her hand!
The other spoke good English and showed us several crates of oranges she had picked this morning.
She poured us some fresh juice, but we are watching the other girl, now high up the ladder, sawing through giant fruit stalks. She calls us over chucking down several huge papayas for us to catch! We left with 10kg of oranges and 4 huge papayas.
With their bright orange flesh, dense buttery texture, and delicate taste they were divine to eat. Gifts from the gods!
We gave one to our kind elderly neighbours..
The first two Saturdays of December we enjoyed Christmas meals at a local beach restaurant. The first was with the yoga group, the second the hiking group.
It was really good getting to know new friends, as the alcohol flowed.
My husband was tucking into a plate of olives,(one of only two things at the restaurant he could eat.) Telling me they are the best olives he had ever had! I ask what are those little brown bits, sun dried tomatoes?
The owner tells him, she leaves the olives marinating in pork for several months, giving them their wonderful flavour!!
Oh the joys of being a vegetarian in Spain!.
Our youngest daughter and her American boyfriend joined us for Christmas. We swam in the sea, dried off in the sunshine, and enjoyed long beach walks together.
All being vegetarian, we made a spectacular vegetable and walnut wellington for Christmas lunch..
We managed to stay awake to see in the new year, enjoying lots of loud bangs and fireworks from the balcony. No church bells this year!
On New Year's Day, as I look through last year's journal, I wonder what adventures our second year will bring us..
Life is good!
Thank you
for reading my blogs. I hope you have enjoyed them X
PHOTO..Husband..Modern Arts building Valencia, like walking through a giant whale!