Two of my colleagues moved to Spain when the war in Ukraine began. I had never met one of them in person, so my stay in Spain — especially so close to where they live — felt like the perfect opportunity to finally meet.
Valencia, a large and beautiful city, sits roughly in the middle between our towns. We planned to meet there on past Sunday.
But my adventure started early in the morning. The day before, I had bought a train ticket from Benicàssim to Valencia. However, when I stepped into the small, empty train station, the cleaning lady saw me, gave me a sorrowful look, and said, "No-no, I am sorry." She didn’t speak English, and I don’t speak Spanish.
Luckily, another staff member named Mohamed was there. His English was slightly better, and he explained that no trains were running today until noon. However, he told me that I could take a bus with my train ticket, travel to the nearest city, and transfer there to the train I needed.
Not entirely sure if I had understood him correctly, this kind man actually walked outside with me to the bus stop across the road. Every time a bus approached, he asked the driver about its destination to ensure I didn’t end up going the wrong way.
When I finally reached my transfer point, I had to find someone else who could explain — in English — where to go next. If that didn’t work, I just showed my ticket on my phone. English isn’t widely spoken in Spain, so communication was a challenge.
Eventually, I found my train and made it to Valencia — almost on time. But the surprises weren’t over yet. There was just the Las Fallas festival going on there!
Every March, Valencia hosts the Las Fallas Festival. This year, due to heavy rains and severe weather warnings (orange and red alert levels), the start of the festival had been slightly delayed. But after a night of relentless rain, the next day turned out to be warm and sunny.
As I stepped out of the train station, a breathtaking view of the city unfolded before me. To my right stood the Colosseum — better known here as the Plaza de Toros, the city's bullring. The streets were blocked off, and a sea of people had gathered. Some stood, others sat, all waiting for something.
My friend kept checking in on me, worried about letting me wander alone in a foreign country. I was really thirsty, so she suggested I try a nut-based drink called horchata with vanilla and ice. It turned out to be delicious — though it cost me 4 euros.
Meanwhile, children were enthusiastically throwing firecrackers. Here in Valencia, even toddlers — some barely two years old — have their own tiny firecrackers to play with.
Above us, a police helicopter kept circling. Hmm, I wasn’t used to seeing helicopters in the sky. God, how far I am from what used to be a normal life...
My friends were stuck in traffic, and I didn’t want to wander too far from the station — the only familiar landmark I had. As I waited, something began to stir in the square at the end of the street. First, I heard a music orchestra. Then, the fireworks started.
But these weren’t the kind of fireworks that paint beautiful fiery flowers across the night sky. No, these fireworks had one goal — to be as loud as possible. Or at least, that’s how it seemed to me.
And the noise... it was terrifying. The explosions grew louder and louder, until, at the very end, they sounded exactly like bombings.
When it was finally over, I realized my heart wasn’t just racing—it was pounding somewhere deep in my stomach.
When I finally met up with my colleagues, we set out to find a quieter place to eat. They had brought their kids along, so that day was more about sitting and chatting rather than exploring.
The girls lined up for a joint photo on the balcony of the City Hall. They are dressed like queens. To be selected for this event, you have to sign up several years in advance!
Streets and houses are decorated with the flags of Spain and Valencia.
This strikingly beautiful house with its impressive moulding and decoration was covered with a film to protect it from fireworks damage.
The sculptures in the central square were wrapped in protective plastic because of the rain. Even so, it was enough for me to realize one thing — I definitely want to come back and explore at my own pace and with my camera.
This was no ordinary trip. I felt a strange mix of discomfort from the constant explosions of firecrackers and pure fascination with the breathtaking architecture, street music, parades, and the overall festive, electrifying atmosphere.
That’s the story so far. Until next time!
One more post. Another small victory over myself.
