I visited Valencia this past Spring, and I can’t stop thinking about it. But for some reason I’ve hardly written about it, just one wee post. I’ve been meaning to tell you guys more about it: the fresh orange juice, the long bike rides, bustling markets, endless wine and tapas, late mornings and late nights, our feisty little Airbnb cat, and long, relaxed ambles through the ancient-looking alleys, lined with palm trees and bright, hanging laundry.
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I haven’t bit the bullet yet and *really* done solo traveling, which seems to be all the rage right now. I did, however, find myself alone in Madrid a couple months ago. I’d traveled through Spain with friends seeing Valencia and Cuenca, but had one day in Madrid on my own before I flew to Marrakech, Morocco.
This is a story of marginalization, resilience, and paint.
I’ve written about Cuenca, Spain before, this unusual and off the radar city, and my short visit to my friend Tim who’s been living there for the last year. Tim is an artist and a poet, but more than that he is an explorer – and I am so happy he is, or I never would’ve seen the beautiful underbelly of Cuenca. The street art of Barrio San Anton.
After Valencia I traveled on to CUENCA, SPAIN. Miles of burned vineyards later and I stepped off the train platform into a bland concrete block. Not what I was expecting. Cuenca isn’t exactly on the tourist radar, but I’d seen my friend Tim’s Instagram photos of hanging cliff houses and endless winding rivers, and it did not look like this.
Yesterday, I was in Africa. Today, I am sitting on my bed in Plymouth after my first day back in University, with half my homework completed, a run planned for the evening, and sand from the Sahara desert still stuck in my shoes. What I’m saying is: life is a whirlwind, especially these last two weeks! I’m really excited to share all my stories, tips, and especially photos on my blog.