Ah, slept in luxury! No drunken people coming home in the
wee hours of the morning or rifling through their bags when packing to catch
their flights at 5am. Pottered down to the train station and managed to
navigate my way to the right train to Valencia. Though I did have a mild
panic attack when the train suddenly reversed direction, thinking that I had
missed the announcement to change trains, only to find it was just stopping at
a little inland station before heading back down the coast. It also took longer
than I had anticipated, prompting a little more nervousness when I didn’t
recognize any more town names after Peniscola, but finally we pulled into
Valencia and I found my way to the Home Backpackers Hostel with a little help
from a couple of random strangers and my stuttering Spanish.
It was down a
couple of dodgy looking streets but quite close to the centre of the city, and
the set-up wasn’t bad – 3 floors but only 3 bunks per room, and a nice
open-plan kitchen as well as a terrace on the roof. While waiting to check in I
read a pamphlet about the festival marking Valencia’s freedom from the Moors. The
Day of the Valencian Community (Día de la Comunidad Valenciana) marks
the anniversary of King James I of Aragon's
capture of the city of Valencia
from Moorish forces in 1238. It is also the Day of Saint Dionysius, a
traditional festival for lovers. I’d noticed a few people dressing in costumes
as I made my way to the hostel so thought I’d head into town for dinner and to
see what was happening, assuming I’d already missed the parades. Turned out I
hadn’t, and spent the next 3 hours watching a MASSIVE parade with hundreds of
drummers, bands, people dressed in all sorts of amazing warrior/knight/Moor
costumes and costumed horse-riders galloping up and down the street and
performing some pretty impressive tricks. Not a bad welcome to the city!
