What is a Farton, and why on earth would you eat it? Read on!
While Valencia was really just a geographically convenient stop on our way to Balearic island paradise, I still collected a handful of nostalgia-inducing experiences:
- cooking in the brightly-painted, tiny hostel kitchen on the main floor, then teaching Boyfriend “the dice game” at the bench-style dining table in the common area
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The Valencia plaza where we’d hang at night.
late-night talks in city parks and squares, holding hands under the soft light of nearby antique-style lamp posts
- the four Italian girls with whom we crammed into a tiny, six-person, hostel bunk room
- workouts in the riverside park stretching inland from the coast for seven miles.
- “fartons” – a regional pastry, inducing the same giggles as a German exit sign. “Fartons are a like long and thin iced buns. Traditionally they are dunked into the horchata,” says this website.
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This building housed the IMAX theater, if memory serves. Certainly the most architecturally magnificent IMAX I’ve ever visited!
arriving a bit too close to closing time at the Science Museum, and the funny choose-your-language earphones at the attached IMAX theater
- finding the perfect little alleyway paella – emphasis on finding. We circled and circled, GPS almost humming like a metal detector nearing a payload… and yet, where WAS this place?!
- boarding the ferry late at night with a bucketload of military personnel (one of the islands we docked at has a base — considered a soldier’s playground by the locals).
and….
- being horribly, viciously beaten by Boyfriend (at cards) on the boat ride away from Valencia
That’s it! Short and sweet stopover, before staking out booth space in the ferry dining room to catch at least a few ZZZzz on our way to Minorca (Ibiza’s little, little sister). ♣
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