Re-visiting Valencia

We just returned from a summer holiday in Valencia, Spain, one of our all-time favorite destinations since moving to London. A few years ago we spent a short weekend in the city during which time we explored Santiago C’s Ciudad de Las Artes y Las Ciencias and came away knowing we would have to return.

During our recent trip we stayed in a beach resort from which we got a taste of the very local seafood delicacies (the beach is lined with restaurants — Restaurante La Rosa and MiraMar to name a few– where we had many of the best seafood meals I’ve ever had anywhere in the world), basked in the summer sun and re-visited the museum complex’s Oceanografic where we saw dolphins swim in synchronisity; dined at Restaurante Submarina L’Oceanografic where we indulged in fine seafood cuisine in the company of live fish, sharks, sting rays and the like swimming in the floor-to-ceiling aquarium walls which enclose the restaurant; and just otherwise observed the sea otters, beluga whales, and walruses that, I daresay, happily live at the aquarium.

Old City

In the Old City we visited La Placa de la Reina where Valencia’s cathedral sits. The cathedral was once a mosque; in fact, Valencia used to be the capital of the Arab kingdom, and it shows in the city’s architecture and city planning.

La Lonja, the Silk Exchange, is a World Heritage UNESCO site. Its Gothic design is stunning; inside are columns and a courtyard filled with orange trees. Outside, however, is what interested me the most about La Lonja. The main entrance, or Puerta de los Pescades (Gate of Sins), is carved with animals that represent the seven deadly sins. In some ways, the gate reminded me of visiting Edinburg’s Roslyn Chapel with all its symbolism and story-telling via its sculptures and design. On the roof are scary-looking gargoyles which overlook central Valencia’s Old City. And, of course, one can’t visit Valencia without trying its signature drink, horchata. I enjoyed a cold cup of the sweet drink made from crushed tiger nuts; it tasted like flavoured soya milk and hit the spot on a hot day sightseeing in Spain.

La Ciudad de las Artes y las Ciencias

You know you’ve arrived in Spain when the first building you see emerging from the metro is El Corte Ingles, the Spanish equivalent to New York’s Saks Fifth Avenue. As is always the aim when visiting Spain, we immediately made our way to a tapas bar, Casa Vella, where we dined on champinones, a tuna and mozzarella cheese salad, anchovies bathed in olive oil, and bread – simple, fresh and delicious.

Tapas aside, my interest in visiting Valencia stems from a “New Yorker” profile of local architect Santiago C. (Sept. ’08 issue) whose La Ciudad de las Artes y las Ciencias did for the city what Frank G.’s Guggenheim did for Bilbao. Although Bilbao’s Guggenheim is my favourite museum in the world for its modernist style, manageable collection, and design that resembles the physiology of a human heart, I was prepared to be swept away by La Ciudad de las Artes y las Ciencias. What I quickly realised upon arriving at the museum was that comparing the two was intellectually irresponsible. Although they are both museums that have done much to reinvigorate the cities in which they reside, that is the extent of their similarities. As the proverbial saying goes, “It would be like comparing apples to oranges.” The Guggenheim is for “grown-ups”; the CAC is clearly designed to accommodate and attract young families. The Guggenheim is compact and the CAC is a sprawling campus which includes a science museum, planetarium, arts venues and an aquarium. The Guggenheim is metallic in hue whereas the CAC is an egg-shell white surrounded by serene pools of water. Whereas one walks through the industrial streets of Bilbao, much has been done to beautify the grounds surrounding the CAC. We took a stroll through the Jardines de Turia, what used to be a river and is now a green park filled with flowers and playgrounds, bicyclists and roller-bladers. The buildings that comprise the CAC are breathtaking and, misleadingly, simple in design. Santiago C. is known for finding his inspiration in the natural world which is obvious when looking at his work. The CAC’s buildings are either simply round or bone-like, all white, and surrounded by pools of green and blue water which add a sense of serenity.

Apart from exploring the complex, we spent much of our time in the Oceanografic, the 2^nd-largest aquarium in the world and the largest in Europe. I surprised myself by which animals I most enjoyed. I love sea life; the oceans are teeming with species we have yet to discover, animals which predate humans and are living records of evolution. Schools of tropical fish in colours that would spur envy from a rainbow swam by, peacefully co-existing with sharks and stingrays. The main attractions were the penguins who stood painfully still with their backs to us as if we were undeserving of their attention; M suggested they were “waiting for Godot”. The beluga whales had mammalian faces and intelligent eyes which threatened to wipe out my literary memory of Moby-Dick. The sharks with their pointed snouts were quiet and stealth, the Mafia of the under-water world.

These animals were beautiful, but the ones I loved watching included the sea horses whose tiny size and shape were unreal; it’s hard to believe they exist in the sea rather than as figments of the imagination, fantastic creatures out of a fairytale. It was lovely spying the sea lions as they slept lazily under the sun like exhausted pre-schoolers at nap time. And, finally, the walruses. Despite their large size (perhaps an average of 6 feet tall) they were the noisiest and most playful creatures in the aquarium. Walruses are ugly. They are large brown creatures that have faces which resemble our country’s Founding Fathers: husky with long whiskers, beady eyes and large jowls. Yet, despite their size, the walruses wrestled with one another for what felt like our benefit, yelped to catch our attention, and swam quickly from one end of the pool to another, behaving as intelligent and playful (and dare I say happy) mammals do.