Dreams old men dream

I'm in Valencia again. I'm happy again. Not much else to say really.

Valencia. Photo: Peter Guenzel

Okay, I thought of something to say. I have no commitments until the end of June. I have no solid plans. I'm as free as I'm probably ever going to be, and it feels really good. I'll just try not to think about money.

I was perched outside in the pouring rain, trying to make myself a sail

I'm listening to Paolo Nutini's 'Candy' and feeling wistful. I'm packing. I'm looking through my photos of Valencia. I'm almost finished straightening my hair. I'm wishing it wasn't raining, but loving the cool air. I'm sorry, but I haven't sent the postcards yet (only bought stamps today). I'm remembering the boys I secretly admired in school. I'm a little hungry. I'm moody today. I'm trying to decide what to wear out tonight. I'm wondering, about..stuff. I'm about to scream at photobucket. I'm talking on the phone to the girls I will be living with, they might have found us a house - with a spare room for visitors. I am hopeful about the future. I'll miss Valencia. Yo soy así.

I want to stay in Valencia. I love it here. I need a job. Damn money and its tendency not to grow on trees.

Tried that good boy game but the dope boy is turning me on

Oh, the post title is meant to be a bit of a joke. So true though, damn sexy bad boys.

I am living in a shared apartment with two young Italian men who seem to own very little clothing. Every time I walk into the lounge they are draped over the couch in their underwear, train smoking and watching television (with the radio on at the same time). They also speak very little English, so our very short conversations have been in muddled Spanish, until I get too flustered standing there trying to talk to a practically naked stranger and run off to my room.Oh I also suspect that they can't cook, they have been living here for two months already and when I arrived there was nothing in the fridge expect rum... So yeah, that's my news. Thrills.

You don't have to watch Dynasty, to have an attitude

I’m having issues with prose today. So:

- My phone just told me I have less than 2 euros left of credit
- I just spent money on a Spanish course
- I am very sun burnt
- Erasmus students are crazy
- I love Valencia
- I have 20 pounds left of Summer work savings (shit)

Push my piano outside, I don't care, I don't care.

I have officially left the land of non-flushing toilets. What is it with UK toilets? I mean, the British were world leaders once upon a time, you’d think they would be able to design a flush which you didn’t have to push a million times, to the point of the handle breaking and you almost cutting open your wrist. Every flush handle in the UK is unique, there are the ones you have to push down once…wait for 2 minutes and then push again, and the ones you have to frantically pump until you have RSI. The height of UK flush technology are the ones which are meant to have a sensor but really you have to wave your hand in front of them ten times before they actually register that, yes please, you’d like it to flush. UK toilets apparently have the Spanish manana mentality. Wow, I am ranting about toilets. Let’s leave it at that.

So, Valencia won the new banner voting, which is fitting since I’m back there. I really enjoyed Valenica the last time I was here, so I decided to return and get to know it better. The only downside is that all my friends already have postcards from Valencia, I’m such a boring traveller. I’m going to take a Spanish course so that in future I can catch the bus from Alicante airport to the train station without missing the stop and ending up miles away, with blisters on my hands from wheeling my case, in the hottest time of the day.

Oh, my taxi driver from the random place to the train station did ask me out though. I hadn’t slept for two days and hadn’t showered since the morning before, so really I think that was quite an achievement; in the zone, as snoop would say. My mother keeps subtly mentioning her desire for grandchildren; it’s freaking me out. There is no link between the taxi driver asking me out and thinking about my Mother’s grandchild mission, but I won’t create a new paragraph, for purely aesthetic purposes.

I just want to reiterate again what an awesome time I had in Scotland. Anyone with the chance to go really should, maybe not in winter, but for the Fringe festival next year. A girl I met in the hostel in Edinburgh is coming to Valencia for a few days, it’ll be great to have some company and she is like a friend-making, social machine.

I am glad to be back in Spain. I was reading over my old blog entries before and realising how, even though I gave up on the plan I had, things have still worked out that way naturally; I still ended up in Scotland for August and back in Spain for the beginning of the teaching year.





Photo: Timothy Barnes

I've heard it enough, I won't let your lousy reputation throw me off

Waiting to go to Spain = making new blog banners. You guys choose:

Toledo

Cambridge

Valencia

A long time ago we used to be friends, but I haven't thought of you lately at all

Only a few Spaniards turned up to the beach on Tuesday night..coughcough.

Everytime I spend a night in the airport I tell myself I will never do it again, and yet I do. A Valencian beach fiesta, churros, a flight to London and 48hrs with no sleep later...Te gets told off by the police for falling asleep on a bench in Hyde Park. Please stop all the classy; maybe they wouldn't have minded if I hadn't thrown my empty beer cans at them and asked where I could find a soup kitchen...

Throw away your television

I am in Valencia. I am sunburnt. I can smell fruity shampoo wafting into the hostel common room. Yesterday I was walking around with a map and a girl asked me for directions in English, I adopted her. Today she turned up at my hostel looking for me, we adopted another lonely looking backpacker and hit the town. Randomness is the best part of travelling. Valencia is beautiful, I'm glad I decided to come here and get a patchy tan before heading to the UK. I'm finally getting used to trying to speak to people in Spanish and I'm leaving for atleast two months, figures. I kind of love the carefree, hostel-living, tan-having bohemian lifestyle. I like not wearing shoes. The end.


Take me somewhere we can be alone.


My photos of Valencia