Raindrops bounce off the sidewalk as I walk through the park.
I’ve been in Valencia for a week, and it’s rained every day.
Even when the rain stops, the clouds are heavy and grey.
I never see the sun until the last day.
Amazing how sunlight helps the spirit soar.
I head for the beach, walking through this city of nearly a million people, founded almost two thousand years ago by the Romans, who called it Valentia Edetanorum.
I wonder what it might have been like back then, before asphalt, cars, fast fashion.
Would it have been as noisy?
At the beach, I see others wandering about at low tide, seemingly just as eager to experience the sunshine, fresh air, and salty water.
Sand art is scattered about, likely from a recent competition.
They are surprisingly intact, considering the rain.
I find a bench, wipe it down, sit and eat the sandwich I brought from the hostel.
I take off my sunglasses and let the weak sun caress my face.
The air is crisp after the rain, moist, but with a unique pleasant nuance.
I had many wonderful experiences with people and music during my visit.
But by far, my best memory is the aroma of Valencian seashore air.