Hasta Luego, Valencia!

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Hello Reader.

A couple of days passed and I began to tie up my loose ends. The end of my stay in Valencia was fast approaching and there was plenty I needed to do. I had worked my last day with Jorge and Fina, but that doesn't mean I didn't see them everyday anyway, (we had numerous 'going away drinks' over my last weekend there). I had to make my travel arrangements, say goodbye to everyone I wouldn't see again, and most importantly loose ten kilo out of my back pack - cause DAMN that gorilla was heavy!

But first came Mike's departure from Valencia. He was getting a whole month off of work, which he planned to use to his full advantage. Ali, Harri, Mike and I had gone back and forth between Granada and Sevilla. In the end, the choice was clear: Morocco. We were all immediately extremely excited. Mike would leave first on Saturday night to spend a couple of days in Tarifa, a small city near the port, and wait for us to get there on Tuesday. From there we would all catch a twenty minute bus ride to Algeciras where we would catch a ferry to Tangier, Morocco. We would travel for a few days through Morocco before heading back to Spain. Alice and Harriet would then head back to Valencia and I would continue on with Mike to Portugal and eventually Bordeaux, France.

The day Mike left Valencia was a Saturday. We were all sad again, of course, because this would be the last time that we would all see Mike in Valencia. Ali, Harri, Mike and I (Chrysa was working) made one last fruit salad for dinner (?) before he left for his night bus to the Tarifa. You better believe we scraped that bowl clean. (By we, I mean Ali and Mike.) Mike had to rush off to say goodbye to Chrysa and make it to the bus station.

The next day, Sunday, I met Ali and Harriet at the City of Arts and Sciences for one last walk around before we headed to Open Cor (the only market that is open on Sundays). That night we made an incredible pasta bake consisting of vegetables, cheese, and breadcrumbs. We had invited Chrysa but she had fallen asleep and didn't make it. The three of us devoured the entire dinner, three bottles of wine, AND finished off a bottle of vodka. It was strange how the night proceeded. It began so tamely and then somehow it was like we all just fell off a cliff. I remember having a civilized conversation and then Alice told a joke about a friend of her's, Ginger James (Jimbo for short), who was walking through a park one night and saw a ghost in the form of a girl in white and got scared... when they walked through the next day, they saw that the woman was actually a tree all along.

Now, while that is a mildly funny story, I couldn't stop laughing for about fifteen minutes. Ali was so amazed at this that she even took pictures. About a half an hour later, and five trips to the toilet, I was ready for a alcohol induced coma, but a good night's sleep was all I got. Ali fell asleep curled up on my back, nestled between my shoulder blades, listening to Tracy Chapman.

The next day, Ali and I got down to business and arranged for our trip to Tarifa. Somehow this took us all over town, from the train station to the bus station and back again. Ali's Metro ticket didn't want to let her out, so she climbed over. We checked back in on Harri around mid-day and found her still very hung over. But she had cleverly prepared a cereal bowl next to her bed should she be sick... a cereal bowl... anyone? ...Anyone? Come on, what's a cereal bowl going to do?

That night I found it very hard to sleep. I went out for a late night walk through the empty streets. (I do this sometimes.) I like it. Especially nights when there is no one in the streets (which is almost never in Spain), but this night was relatively quiet and relaxing. The next day I woke up and packed all my stuff. I ended up leaving more than half my clothes (and those shoes I bought in San Sebastian that I never used cause I didn't have the right socks) at Mike's house for a needy couchsurfer. Then, with the few hours I had left before meeting up with the girls for 'one last drink at New Orleans' (but seriously, that was the last one), I took pictures of the city. I didn't want to leave without having a picture of the things that meant the most to me... things and people I enjoyed and passed everyday, and would never see again.

I listened, quite appropriately, to 'Walk On' by U2 as I walked and thought about leaving Valencia. I never would have thought that I would grow so attached to it. When I looked back on my time there, I pictured staying in the hostel, The City of Arts and Sciences, Gulliver's Playground, O'Hara's, The River Turia Garden, Las Fallas, and of course New Orleans. But the thing is, it really was the people I was experiencing all those things with that made them special. What would have the hostel been like without Caitlin and Josh (or Christmas for that matter)? What would New Orleans have been like without Fina and Jorge? What would have Las Fallas been like without Dakota and Eric? My apartment without Carlos and Roberto? And the past four months without Mike, Sue, Chrysa, Ali, and Harri? Valencia wouldn't have been as profoundly spectacular without all the amazing people I had the privilege of meeting.

Sue, Mike, and I once passed a girl in the street and overheard her saying something like: "This city is totally shit. We got here yesterday and there's nothing to do, nothing good.' We just looked at each other, smiled, and walked on by. I pitied that girl. The world is what you make of it. And those words never rang truer than they did in that moment.

So with a heavy heart I went by my old apartment and said farewell to Carlos and Roberto. Walked through the center and stared up at all the buildings. I kissed all my market friends goodbye. I was late joining Ali, Harri, Chrysa, and Olivia at New Orleans, but I feel my last moment alone with the city was a necessary one. Olivia had already started working there and seemed to really be liking it. Chrysa was heading to work so I stood up and we hugged. She kissed my cheek and told me to take care of myself. I was hoping to see her in a few months time when I passed through Greece, as she would be headed home in a month or two. But that didn't make it any easier. She left, tearful.

Ali, Harri, and I had to book it back to the Mike's place. I said goodbye to Olivia, Jorge, and Fina. Hugs, kisses, and promises to try to keep in touch. Fina and Jorge got me toiletries and cologne as a going away present, which came in handy. She also got me a huge Spanish Tortilla, so that, along with all the free food my market friends gave me, meant only one thing: massive sandwiches. An entire baguette each. It was truly beautiful. We high-tailed it to the bus station only to wait for forty-five minute for the bus. During our wait, we were witness to two of the worst parents making a scene for twenty minutes by treating their three or four year old girl like a rag doll. There was an older gentleman there, we nicknamed him Don Oro, (due to the all the gold bling he was sporting), who was less than impressed with them.

The bus came and the three of us hopped on. I was understandably sad about leaving Valencia, but I was really excited about Morocco, Portugal, and the numerous other countries I was to visit. I watched, forehead against the window, as my city faded into the horizon. Next to me, a man prayed.

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