Folks, I can’t believe I haven’t had a chance to sit down and share reflections with my favourite readers.  I had a moment at the beginning of this assignment that made me realize how much I miss venting around here (I won’t say an aha moment like that cow, Oprah, may she overdose on complex carbohydrates).

I am on an assignment with an oil company, travelling through dying towns with major oil refineries.  The work is interesting but the living conditions suck.  The air is thick with oil pollutants and I’ve had little chance to work out or eat well (my training is officially screwed).

I think I am a little grumpy (surprise!) because I had such a wonderful time in Valencia.  I was there for less than two days, most of which was spent in meetings and getting a little sleep.  Hotel was great (remind me to share my latest smelly hotel tale from New York soon).

   hotel_tryp_oceanic_home1

 I had 2 goals: find a great place to eat and mingle with the locals.  I desperately wanted to visit some of the sites, especially the city of the Arts and Science but I couldn’t rush through such a place and plan to make it the first stop in my next trip.  Instead, I spent an entire afternoon walking through the Central Market or Mercado Central as they call it. 

Central Market

The place bustles with life.  Colours, sounds, movement.  Men and women alike bargaining for prices and walking slowly from vendor to vendor picking colourful fruit and vegetable while chatting with people around.  I was native-gazing and could not believe the energy and savouring of life. 

I wanted to take my own photos but opted to leave my camera behind.  I didn’t want that touristy look, the one you see on Japanese tourists in a pack of 500 people with expensive cameras and tacky yellow hats.  You just wanna kick ‘em into traffic. 

In the early hours of the evening, I sat at a cafe recommended by hotel staff.  You forget what it is like to have nice, flirtatious comments from perfect strangers.  A perfect gentleman helped me with my seat and another asked if I’d like to join him and a group of friends at their table. 

You see, when someone says that around the place I live, you feel for your pepper spray in your right pocket and prepare to use your body weight to tackle a freak to the ground. 

I had my tea in peace, enjoying a cool breezy evening.   I could live in this place.  I could even join these people at their tables.

Cafe Sant Jaume

Images are courtesy of the New York Times.