Last Day Valencia, Reprieve Barcelona

It's our last day in Valencia. We are awakened by a text on my i-phone informing us that our flight from Amsterdam to Atlanta has been cancelled. We move into action and quickly rebook for Monday and communicate with our Asheville folks about the change of plans. We manage that before coffee. We buy more money for our cell phone, refurbish TP and PT supplies, and then retreat back into the apartment to recover from the shock of having to be responsible after 4 weeks of fecklessness.

I work on the blog while Kitty finishes her Paul Theroux novel. We set out about 2:00 for a recommended neighborhood for restaurants. We had walked through this area the other day and there is a dizzying array of restaurant possibilities. We play the game of walking around the block. I spy a cider joint and Kitty a place that has coquettes. We try the latter, only to discover their fryer is out of order. We decide to settle for a couple of other tapas basics: Russian salad and shrimp in garlic. The food is delicious. 

We move onto the cider place. I've always been curious about the Spanish cider,  very popular in Barcelona. I'd forgotten about the long pour (we saw a waiter in an alley once practicing with water). Our waiter still has some skill to develop. They have a tacky automated pour machine that he sets up for us at the table so we are spared the embarrassing ritual.  The cider is really sort of gross and musty. I imagine people call it "an acquired taste" and that may well be so. My first time left something to be desired. Still, you have to try these things and I remember back to the time I didn't like Vermouth. There may yet be a future for me with Spanish cider.

As it happened, a vermouth bar has just opened on the corner and I pull us into that over Kitty's protestations: "You have a vermouth and I'll just sit with you." Ten minutes later with her wine Kitty allows we should consider second round. It's a small place but with one side glass doors and decorated in red and white. We are the only patrons except for another couple, but after we'd been there a while it fills up. The woman proprietor is very nice and takes our photo (I was just asking if I could take photos in her place and she quickly offered). She pets on me at one point. The vermouth is some of the best I've had. 

We are energized after our cider and vermouth and consider going back to the City of Arts and Sciences. Luckily, we recover our senses after waiting a few minutes for the bus and go back to the apartment to clean and pack instead. 

Last days are always bitter sweet. We have missed Sebastian. The past two nights I have dreamt of trying to stop bears from breaking into new houses we've somehow acquired. Kitty even shared my same bear dream last night (very odd!). I'm not sure if it's my anxiety about returning to some pale semblance of responsibility at home or managing life under Donald Trump that is creating my "don't poke the bear" anxiety dreams. Probably some combination of political and personal anxiety. And then there's my actual history with a bear breaking into the house, so maybe it's not all symbolic. At any rate, we are excited about getting that extra day, but will feel better once we have Sebastian's arrangements made for that extra day and have completed the final travel hurdles ourselves.