Valencia and the Costa Blanca

We left Ruidera early on Wednesday to make the trip across the remainder of central Spain to the east coast and the Costa Blanca.

We’d booked into a site at a small town called Daimus, just outside Gandia, which in turn connects to the main train line to Valencia, and is only about 20 km away from Denia, where we plan to catch the ferry to Ibiza, so as you can see, quite convoluted, but we reckoned this would be a good base.

The site, Camping Aventura, was the only one we could find in the area which got moderately good reviews, although frankly there weren’t too many of those, so we had our fingers crossed.  We’d also had trouble getting the booking confirmed, as they didn’t reply to our original email, and didn’t speak English when we tried to phone, so in desperation booked via a website called Pitchup.  Only then did they reply to say we should cancel the Pitchup booking as it was more expensive!

The SatNav brought us to the site via umpteen industrial estates, all a bit tired and run down, with the campsite was just beyond the last of them!  We managed to get booked in using a mixture of Spanish, sign language and Google translate, but whilst clean, the site is pretty soulless and our pitch is so overshadowed by trees that we have to have the lights on all the time!  However, the beach is less than half a mile away, so as advertised!

The forecast for the first coupe of days was mixed, so we decided to head straight into Valencia by train.  We managed to book ourselves on another walking tour, but it set off at 10.30 in the centre of the city, so we were up and out by 8.15, and on the train in Gandia 30 minutes later! The walking tour was great – our guide, Elena, was a real live wire, and gave us a good grounding in the history of the city, and where we should explore more.  We saw the cathedral, the Silk Market, the covered market, and numerous churches and other ruins.

She also told us that Valencia (pronounced Balenthee-a) is the home of Paella, and she was most insistent that it should only contain chicken and rabbit – no chorizo, or seafood, and if it wasn’t made within 20 km of Valencia itself it had to be called ‘rice with bits in’ instead (hard luck Phil!).

Water is very important in the Valencia area – from the train we saw acres and acres of orange trees, most of them individually irrigated by increasingly convoluted means – the water from the river Turia was diverted away from the city to provide enough water for the fruit. The now dry river bed has been transformed into a public park which meanders through the city.

This means that Valencians are very careful with water, and they even have a weekly court which has been held every Thursday at 12 noon just outside the west door of the cathedral for over 1000 years! The court is a serious occasion – there are 8 totally unqualified judges, one for each area of the city who are all selected for their farming expertise, and they gather each week to deal with anyone charged with using too much water, polluting the water, or even using water when it is not their turn!

The court doesn’t finish until the judges are all in agreement, then the culprit is usually fined (the fine has to be paid on the spot), or even imprisoned. However, if the defendant turns up and the court is not ready, then the case is dropped and the defendant is free to go! There are also no written records kept, as everything is verbal and instant – our justice system could take a leaf out of their books!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Elena also recommended a couple of restaurants where we could sample real Paella, so we took advantage of one of her recommendations, and had a leisurely lunch to give us sustenance for the afternoon sightseeing! In fact we liked the city so much, we went in again on the train on the Saturday, and spent a lovely day wandering around the beautiful gardens, and visiting the fine art museum, which contained numerous, mainly religious paintings from the 15th century up until the present day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have to say that medieval painters did seem to be a bit obsessed with the nursing Madonna as I don’t think I’ve seen as big a pictorial collection of boobs outside of the Sun archives!  Still, each to their own eh?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunday we had a day at the local beach, and Monday we had a nostalgic trip to Calpe, about 50 km down the coast, where we’d had a holiday with Debi, age 3, and Ros age 1, back in 1988. This was where Debi had her first taste of Calamari and loved it!  It’s changed a bit, in the sense that it’s a lot bigger than it was 29 years ago, but it’s still a lovely resort, and the surrounding countryside is very picturesque, with lots of mountains and dramatic valleys.