First Impressions: Two weeks in
Musings on architecture, slower living, €2 wine, and figuring out everyday life in Valencia
A typical narrow alley in Valencia
One of the first things I noticed about Valencia is how much of the city’s history is simply built into everyday life.
There are thick carved wooden doors, ornate marble details, wrought iron balconies, cobblestone streets, and centuries-old facades everywhere you look. It’s almost impossible not to feel surrounded by beauty, even amid the normal chaos of city life.
What I love about Valencia in particular, though, is that despite being a city, it somehow still feels like a small town. It’s easy to walk from one neighborhood to the next, and more than once I’ve run into someone I saw earlier that same day in a completely different part of town.
Small bakeries, butchers, and fruit stands where people shop daily are tucked between chic restaurants, modern shops, and old neighborhood bars. At almost any hour, you can find someone sitting outside with an espresso or una cerveza, seemingly in no particular rush to be anywhere else (if someone can figure out what these people do, please let me know).
A pop up plant stand in our barrio every Saturday
And that slower pace is not just something you notice. It is, at times, completely unavoidable.
Siesta is very much a real thing. Many shops close from around 2:00 to 4:00 during the week, as well as Saturday afternoons. Almost everything except for grocery stores is closed altogether on Sundays. It is nearly impossible to be “productive” in the American sense of the word over the weekend, because, quite literally, nothing is open.
No one is returning your email, phone call, or WhatsApp message over the weekend either. Want to view an apartment on a Sunday? Absolutely not.
So what are you supposed to do?
Go to the beach, apparently.
Which is exactly what we did today. We headed to the playa, floated in the clear Mediterranean water, soaked up the sun, and tried to lean into this newfound way of life.
Enjoying la playa
A Few Other Observations
Almost every apartment here has built-in blackout roller blinds. They are amazing, and I am completely obsessed. My kids have been sleeping like never before.
Spaniards seem to have a very different sense of modesty than most Americans. Anything goes when it comes to clothing, including, apparently, very little clothing at all, especially at la playa.
I have not seen a single Stanley cup since I arrived.
Wine is unbelievably cheap. I’m talking perfectly decent bottles for €2–€3.
The transit system is insanely effective. I have an entirely new appreciation for riding the bus.
Spanish dryers, otherwise known as clotheslines, are working surprisingly well so far. I still don't understand how more people aren't losing socks out of upper-floor windows. Case in point: we found a neighbor's underwear on our terrace today.
For some reason, many showers here have a piece of glass that only extends halfway across the shower. Someone please explain this to me, because so far it seems primarily designed to create a giant pool of water on the bathroom floor. And that’s when an adult is showering. Forget the kids.
Thank God for AI, which has so far helped me figure out how to use a moka pot, choose the right milk, and operate our oven.
Finding an apartment is a full-time job and, oddly enough, reminds me a lot of online dating. But I’ll save that for another post.
A Spanish clothes dryer
Language Glitches
There have also been a few moments when my Spanish has not quite gotten me where I thought it would.
I bought fresh chunks of pumpkin when I thought I was buying butternut squash.
I bought mousse when I thought I was buying hairspray.
And I somehow bought a different bike than the one I thought I was buying for my daughter.
Thankfully, that one worked out.
Two weeks in, I am still very much figuring things out. But I think that is part of what I like about being here.
Everything feels familiar enough to navigate and different enough to keep surprising me.