Albufera de Valencia, El Palmar
Wednesday 2/13/2019
We had long planned a day trip to a nearby region that balances rice fields, a fresh water lake, salt water estuary and bird habitats. The region is protected environmentally, and what tourism there is revolves around eating paella and slow motion boat tours through the wetlands.
The bus ride takes about 40 minutes from our neighborhood. It's a dismal landscape, but saved for me by the extensive woodland near the shore. There are occasional modest condos, yellow and clustered in the pines. It recalled the coast of South Carolina.
The day is sunny but with a light breeze. The town is sad, with algae-filled canals lined with little paella joints with plastic chairs set outside in the brilliant sun. It's warm enough to eat outside, so we head for the recommended "Bon Aire" restaurant for our required paella. Thus far we have avoided paella in our trips to Spain. Last year we had rice and lobster in BCN and then this year I had some amazing black rice at Valencia's Café Abalan. Paella has just never been a favorite, though here the local, hallmark version has rabbit and chicken instead of the expected seafood.
Our table is next to one of the town's canals, and little gnats/mosquitoes swarm. The canal lacks charm, and skinny little feral cats cluster around our feet begging. The sun is searingly bright. White birds and seagulls flock on the mudflats.
We are just getting started when a small man dressed in yellow chest waders pulls up in a boat right next to Kitty and proceeds to crawl with considerable effort out of the boat and onto the pavement on his hands and feet, basically into our meal.
Clearly he does this every day, but he was old and it was brutal to watch. Our role here was to ignore him, but that felt weird with his laborious effort literally at our feet. He stood with effort and went on his way. We returned, discomforted, to our feast. One cat drags a dead fish out of the canal at Kitty's feet. I'm flipped out. Kitty notes I've started my meal with my plate still turned upside down (see below).
I manage to relax, right my dish, and complete the over-the-top multiple course extravaganza. We are not converted to paella, even by this truly authentic Valencian version. I think the ritual itself embarrasses me. Why bring such a big pan of unnaturally colored food to create a spectacle centered on excess? The cats wait expectantly and the other diners gape.
There's still charm to be had. The wine helps. And the sun is warm. The mosquitoes don't bite like the ones at home. And the cats are sort of cute once I toss them tuna. We note the next bus to leave goes at 5:30 and there's not another one slated until 7:25. I start pushing for the early departure. Kitty encourages us to take time for a boat tour, a standard part of the area outing and the only way to really get a sense of the habitat and lake.
Juame is our captain and there are 8 in our group. We sputter along the coast line and spook ducks and other birds. The area lays claim to flamingoes, and although we saw several species of waterfowl migrating up from Africa, we did not see flamingoes. Ducks, cormorants, seagulls, herons, hawks (?), and egrets. At one point he stops the engine and sits and tells us about the lake. It's all in Spanish and I don't understand everything but I follow the main strands on the natural history and the more contemporary politics of fresh (dulçe) water.
The sun is setting as the paseos ends and we are charmed. The town is abandoned, and we still have an hour to wait on the bus. There's a bar and a pharmacy open and we choose the bar. It's a bit scary with a little illuminated Heineken sign. Kitty hangs back while I check it out. They are watching Columbo--shabby, but with a sense of justice so I figure it's OK for us to enter. Ends up we have a fine time with our Heinekens and peanuts. The bus arrives as promised and the driver smiles at our obvious relief as she rounded the dark corner.
We had long planned a day trip to a nearby region that balances rice fields, a fresh water lake, salt water estuary and bird habitats. The region is protected environmentally, and what tourism there is revolves around eating paella and slow motion boat tours through the wetlands.
The bus ride takes about 40 minutes from our neighborhood. It's a dismal landscape, but saved for me by the extensive woodland near the shore. There are occasional modest condos, yellow and clustered in the pines. It recalled the coast of South Carolina.
The day is sunny but with a light breeze. The town is sad, with algae-filled canals lined with little paella joints with plastic chairs set outside in the brilliant sun. It's warm enough to eat outside, so we head for the recommended "Bon Aire" restaurant for our required paella. Thus far we have avoided paella in our trips to Spain. Last year we had rice and lobster in BCN and then this year I had some amazing black rice at Valencia's Café Abalan. Paella has just never been a favorite, though here the local, hallmark version has rabbit and chicken instead of the expected seafood.
Our table is next to one of the town's canals, and little gnats/mosquitoes swarm. The canal lacks charm, and skinny little feral cats cluster around our feet begging. The sun is searingly bright. White birds and seagulls flock on the mudflats.
We are just getting started when a small man dressed in yellow chest waders pulls up in a boat right next to Kitty and proceeds to crawl with considerable effort out of the boat and onto the pavement on his hands and feet, basically into our meal.
I manage to relax, right my dish, and complete the over-the-top multiple course extravaganza. We are not converted to paella, even by this truly authentic Valencian version. I think the ritual itself embarrasses me. Why bring such a big pan of unnaturally colored food to create a spectacle centered on excess? The cats wait expectantly and the other diners gape.
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| Bon Aire Paella |
There's still charm to be had. The wine helps. And the sun is warm. The mosquitoes don't bite like the ones at home. And the cats are sort of cute once I toss them tuna. We note the next bus to leave goes at 5:30 and there's not another one slated until 7:25. I start pushing for the early departure. Kitty encourages us to take time for a boat tour, a standard part of the area outing and the only way to really get a sense of the habitat and lake.
Juame is our captain and there are 8 in our group. We sputter along the coast line and spook ducks and other birds. The area lays claim to flamingoes, and although we saw several species of waterfowl migrating up from Africa, we did not see flamingoes. Ducks, cormorants, seagulls, herons, hawks (?), and egrets. At one point he stops the engine and sits and tells us about the lake. It's all in Spanish and I don't understand everything but I follow the main strands on the natural history and the more contemporary politics of fresh (dulçe) water.
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| Paseos en Barca Jaume |
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| Getting the most out of El Palmar |
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