Valencia, where the sun steals your breath and the streets catalog your nightmares

woke up and found myself outside in a temperature that was 9.18 degrees celsius and somehow also not. it was one of those days where the air clings to your skin like it knows you’re not supposed to be here. i’m a marathon runner, or at least i was before this flu hit me, and i tried to keep moving but my body kept staging mini rebellions every 50 meters. turns out hypothermia is the new appreciation SMS from your legs.

i checked the weather app and it showed feels_like as 8.67. yeah, right. if it’s supposed to feel like a lukewarm bath you don’t mention it. i have a better idea-i’m just going to blame the wind. it’s that gusty thing up by the river that only appears when you’re close to the seafood market. if you asked me, it’s probably the wind’s way of saying ‘try again tomorrow.’ maybe it’s right.

if you get bored, the beaches are just a short drive away. not that anyone should want to leave. the problem is everyone is here. the tourists, theGoPro enthusiasts, the people pretending they’re in a rom-com. one barista told me over coffee that the water in the river is so polluted you could probably drink it and still win a dareshow. i didn’t believe him. i never do. until i saw a guy dipping his head in it while yelling something about koi fish. classic.

i heard that the tap water is a myth. someone spilled a bottle of white stuff on the bus yesterday and it just expired. i mean, how poetic. i grabbed a bottle of tap water anyway. maybe i’m a masochist. maybe i’m a fool. maybe i’m just tired enough to not care. when i asked the neighbors about it they just stared. one of them had a parrot on his shoulder. that’s new. the parrot didn’t care.

i came across a review on tripadvisor that said this place had the best ice cream in spain. i’m not sure if i trust TripAdvisor. i checked yelp too, and it turns out this same place got 1 star because the owner added moss to the waffles. sounds bad. sounds good. who knows? i ended up there anyway. the waffles were okay. the ice cream tasted like regret and a hint of lavender. local opinion is divided. some people say it’s a trap, others swear it’s a spiritual experience. maybe it’s both. i didn’t ask them for advice though. i just asked the parrot. it kept screaming.

i saw a sign for a local festival and followed a crowd down a side street. turns out it was a vintage clothes fair. i’m not usually into that but here goes nothing. the air was filled with people wearing 90s band tees and flannel. i met a vendor selling propagation kits. she was shouting about moss and soil pH. i asked her if that’s normal. she nodded and said ‘yes. you’d be surprised what grows here.’ i took one. now i owe her a pound of soil. she might haunt me if i don’t.

there was a section labeled ‘lost property’ and among the things they had was a single flip phone. i traced the number and it led to a voice mail that said ‘you’ve reached the ghost of 2009.’ i laughed. i collected the phone. i don’t know what to do with it. i put it in my bag anyway. in case it’s useful. maybe it’s a time machine?

i ended up walking with a group of strangers because no one wanted to go home. we passed by a neighborhood where the walls were covered in street art. a young artist told me the paintings were meant to remind people that valencia is ‘not a postcard.’ it’s true. the art is chaotic. some pieces look like someone threw paint at a wall and then photoshopped a yorkie over it. others are just scribbles that spell ‘get out of here.’ i agreed. we’re all getting out soon.

i took three pictures. one of the vintage shop, one of the parrot guy, and one of me pretending i’m not freezing while the wind pretends it’s not working. the unsplash links are: '

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i heard that the locals here have a secret habit. they drink coffee in the morning but serve espresso at 2 am. i don’t know if this is true. i asked a bar and they just handed me a cup of black coffee out of the kindness of their hearts. i drank it outside in 9.18 degrees. it was good. it tasted like irony and caffeine. i hope you like that kind of thing.

there’s this rumor about a hidden alleyway where people used to play secret games. i asked an old man about it and he said ‘you’d have to be drunk to find it.’ he didn’t tell me if he was drunk. i assumed he was. i walked around for hours trying to find it. i ended up eating a raw granola bar from a vending machine. it was amazing. i think bears would approve.

i’m writing this from a park bench under a tree that’s probably too close to a power line. i’m still cold. my legs are screaming. my phone is dying. but i’m okay. for now. valencia’s vibe? it’s a mix of stubbornness and denial. like the city is trying to hold onto spring even though it’s clearly over. the weather, the people, the weirdness-they all blend into one messy, human package.

if you’re here and you hate cold, pack scarves. if you hate mystery, leave. if you hate not knowing, just ask the parrot. it might bite. probably won’t though. it’s probably too busy yelling about koi fish.