“El jueves es el noche de San Juan,” my Spanish teacher informed me a few weeks ago. She explained that she would be going to the beach Thursday evening for bonfires and a dip in the sea to cleanse her soul. Every year Spaniards flock to the beaches to celebrate the festival of San Juan on the night of June 23rd. I love learning about holidays and festivals in Spain. I am in awe of how many there are. During my trip in October I came across two statutory holidays (Spain’s National Day and All Saints Day), a “mini-Semana Santa” in Málaga, and an autumn festival in a small mountain…

I have been daydreaming about rice. Not any rice. The rice of Valencia: Arroces. Each grain infused with a most flavourful broth. It’s texture deliciously chewy. Every chance I had to choose a rice dish on a menu del día in Valencia, I did. Still, this did not satiate my appetite. It only made me want to eat more rice. Rice is a huge part of Valencian culture. The tradition starts in the rice fields on the outskirts of the city. I took a short bus ride, 10 km south of the city, to visit the Albufera Natural Park. The large park is home to wetlands, bird sanctuaries, beaches, sand…

There are many towns and villages that make an easy day trip from Valencia. One that peaked my interest was Mascarell. A town entirely enclosed by walls (or murallas) and surrounded by: A moat. Well not exactly. There is no longer a moat. The moat was repurposed as irrigation ditches. So now this unique walled town is surrounded by: Orange groves. Even better. Mascarell is one of two completely walled towns in Spain. I am guessing it’s the only one completely surrounded by walls AND orange groves. To get to Mascarell, I travelled to Nules, which is about 45 minutes north by commuter train from Valencia. Mascarell is a hamlet…

During my week in Valencia I have seen many sights, old and new, toured markets and museums, visited nearby towns and nature parks. On this last day however, with no real plans, I spend the day in my neighborhood El Cabanyal. What does a relaxing Saturday in Valencia look like?  I start with desayuno (breakfast) at the cafe close to my hotel. For the last time I watch the bright oranges, lined up on top of the juicer like a pinball machine, drop into the mechanism to be squeezed one by one. Orange juice is always made in the moment. Alongside my fresh juice, I have a cafe con leche…

During the winter at home I was eating Valencia oranges. Every time I got a new batch, I would proclaim with excitement, “Oranges from Valencia!” No doubt my family was tired of my repetitive announcements.  I can’t help it. This juicy citrus is a delight in the midst of winter. And now, in Spain, I have seen where they originate. Fields and fields of orange trees! On my bus ride from Dénia to Valencia, for 2.5 hours, all I saw were orange groves. The flat expanse of land between the coast and the mountains was covered with rows and rows of orange trees. I did not spot many fruits hanging…

“Quien eres?” an elderly woman asked me in the small village of Sella. “Who am I?” It was a fair question in a tiny village where everyone knows each other. For most of the day I had been asking myself “Where am I?” as I struggled with my GPS so this question was a breeze. I happily told her I was from Canada.  When I arrived in Sella, my legs were shaking from my trek through the rugged Alicante mountains. I had left Finestrat almost 7 hours earlier. I was ecstatic to see Sella, even if the first street I encountered was a massive staircase. I had climbed over a…