Maybe we needed a little sun

Valencia. Valencia?

The obvious answer is oranges. Like the orange groves filled with juicy, bright fruit that stretched for miles as we caught the train toward Alicante. But for me, Valencia was paella, Spanish language school, irregular verbs that were oh so confusing, new friends from Sweden, bike riding in the rain, the America's Cup, my best friend Claire and the all important home cooked meals a la chefs Claire and Raff.

After muchas las fiestas en Barcelona I was ready for a rest. Ready to chill out and learn some Espanol. Saving money was also a vague thought so I lived on Special K, yogurt, bananas and orange juice for not quite a week. This saving was all undone when it suddenly dawned on me that winter in Spain did not mean summer because, hello 'it's Spain'! No, no, no, one four degree day and I was straight in the department store to buy a winter jacket. The Barcelona-bought jacket had only lasted a few days before it decided to make a new home in a nightclub by the beach. Lucky this second one had the all important green stripes and big pockets (for the warming of my little hands).

The Swedes and I walk to the park and Matilda learns that she has the ability to speak bird. In class I almost cry when I can't manage to string a simple sentence together. Art museums inspire and delight. Contemporary museums with photography and a forward-thinking local street magazine … then underneath and I have found a new interest - modernist illustration (in magazines) circa 1920s. It is after this I find myself taking photos of street graffiti, paintings on the backs of chairs, detailed ceilings and more mosaic floors.

I finish my one week Spanish course and am embarrassed to be presented with a certificate when I was one of the worst in the class.

Sangria sangria, why have we not shared a Spain moment yet? I find my way to Claire and Tristan. How uncanny that my best friend from Australia so happens to be in Europe - in Spain - in Valencia, the very same time as me! I have only been one week away from home so the catch up, while not without its sentiment, feels not too out of the ordinary. But for my friend Claire it is six months. Not a moment too soon we are saying Salud and drinking a bottle of vino tinto. Then off to find a funky bar and alas, sangria my dear, there you are.

The trio that is Claire, Tristan and I hire bikes and cruise through the narrow streets and then down to the empty beach where I think my fingers my fall off from the cold. A café by the sea offers menu del dia of paella, fried seafood and cerveza.

There is nothing bad to say about you Valencia… you gave me sweet sangria and Swedish friends, funky earrings and live music, bike riding, colourful streets and interesting graffiti. Yet the bond is not quite there. Maybe if the sun was out my heart would have warmed to you more. Till next time hey, till summer…