Monday, May 1. Another weekday holiday in Valencia. By the time we leave after four weeks here, I think there will have been five.
Strolling around, the time off obviously means different things to Valencians. There was a rather loud but small group participating in a labor march we encountered. The original point of the holiday.
Their message was lost in translation on the way to me, though. Unsure whether their point was workers are treated like animals; pets are as well-regarded as people; or more of a PETA protest for protecting animals because they are equal to people. Most Valencians they passed appeared unbothered and more focused on their beer or gin tonics in the outdoor cafes than politics.
But celebrations weren’t restricted to that. Turia Park was filled with bicyclists, joggers, walkers, picnickers and people simply sprawled flat-out on the ground to absorb the sun.
In the midst of our walk in the park we encountered an exuberant admission-free festival spotlighting Andalusian culture – with dancers jumping on stages ranging from skilled flamenco practitioners to enthusiastic never-tried-it-before volunteers. All seemed welcomed equally by imbibing attendees.
And then, cutting back through town, we came across some of the more sedate regionally costumed families who have been parading formally through town for the past week or so for different events.
All wonderful encounters for us idly ambling along the streets on a magnificent sunny afternoon.
Postcards from Barton Springs 