I had been to Valencia once before, back in 2019, but that trip barely scratched the surface. It was a work visit, rushed and contained, and I left with the sense that I had seen only a version of the city rather than the city itself.
Valencia sits slightly apart from the shorthand narratives often applied to Spanish cities. It is neither as immediately monumental as Madrid nor as tightly branded as Barcelona. Instead, it unfolds more gradually, shaped by its relationship to food, light, and landscape. A Mediterranean port city with deep agricultural roots, it balances tradition and experimentation with an ease that feels lived-in rather than performative.
So while Victor and I were living in Barcelona, it felt inevitable that we would come back and do Valencia properly. We chose the late May bank holiday, when the days were already long and warm, but the full intensity of summer had not yet set in.
Paella, Where It Comes From
We arrived from Barcelona around 2:00pm, just in time for lunch, and headed straight to Goya Gallery Restaurant for a paella lunch. Paella is one of those dishes that has travelled so far from its origins that it can feel almost abstracted from place, but Valencia is where it belongs. Traditionally cooked in a wide, shallow pan over an open flame, paella was originally a rural dish, made with whatever ingredients were available in the fields and wetlands around the Albufera lagoon. Rice, saffron, olive oil, and local produce formed the base, and from there variations emerged. Eating paella in Valencia carries a different weight; it feels less like ordering a dish and more like engaging with a regional identity.
We started with a wonderful, seasonal salad of tomate de temporada, simple and perfectly ripe, ventresca de atún, salazones and encurtidos, which brought salt, acidity, and texture. Paella tends to be quite heavy, so I always like to start with something very light and refreshing to balance the meal.
For the main event, we chose the bogavante paella. This version came with European lobster, along with squid, monkfish, and shrimp, the rice deeply flavoured with seafood and saffron. The grains were separate but saturated, the surface slightly crisped in places.
What stood out most, though, was how thin the paella was spread across the pan. Valencian-style paella is cooked in a very shallow layer, allowing the rice to cook evenly and develop flavour without becoming heavy. It felt markedly different from the paellas I was more used to in Barcelona and elsewhere in Catalonia, which are often deeper and more substantial.
Dessert was a classic flan, smooth and gently caramelised, a perfect and understated way to finish.
An Afternoon at the Museo de Bellas Artes
From there, we walked to the Museo de Bellas Artes de Valencia. The museum houses around 2,000 works, most dating from the 14th to the 17th centuries, and its collection gives a strong sense of Valencia’s artistic and religious history.
Among the paintings, a few stood out to me in particular. Calavera (Memento Mori) by Vicente Masip was stark and contemplative, a reminder of mortality rendered with unsettling calm. Diego Velázquez’s self-portrait carried that familiar intensity, restrained but deeply human. The Passion Triptych, attributed to a follower of Hieronymus Bosch, was dense and unsettling, full of symbolic detail that rewards slow looking.
Beyond these earlier works, there were also later paintings that felt firmly rooted in place and history. La sega de l’arròs a l’Albufera de València (The Rice Harvest in the Albufera of Valencia) by Antonio Fillol Granell captured the physicality of agricultural labour in the wetlands south of the city, tying art directly back to the landscape that has shaped Valencian life for centuries.
Granada and Amor de madre (Mother’s Love) by Antonio Muñoz Degrain stood out for different reasons. Muñoz Degrain, known for his landscapes and historical scenes, moved gradually from realism toward Impressionism over the course of his career. Amor de madre, painted between 1912 and 1913, depicts a mother attempting to save her child during a devastating flood in the Valencia region. It was emotionally charged without being theatrical, and felt inseparable from the region’s collective memory.
Sorolla and Valencian Light
One artist deserves his own pause here: Joaquín Sorolla. Seeing Sorolla in Valencia feels like seeing him at home. His work is filled with light, movement, and Mediterranean colour, often depicting beach scenes, everyday life, and the intimacy of family. There is a warmth to his paintings that feels inseparable from the region itself, as if the sunlight of the Valencian coast has been absorbed directly into the canvas. Even among older and more sombre works, Sorolla’s paintings feel alive, almost contemporary in their immediacy.
Through the Jardín del Turia
Leaving the museum, we continued on foot through the Jardín del Turia. This long, linear park runs through what was once the riverbed of the Turia, diverted after devastating floods in the mid-20th century. Today, it is one of Valencia’s defining features, a green corridor that cuts through the city, connecting neighbourhoods and giving space to walk, cycle, and pause.
Wandering through it in the late afternoon, with locals exercising, families picnicking, and the city unfolding slowly on either side, was one of the most grounding parts of the day.
Orxata at Mercado de Colón
The gardens eventually led us to the Mercado de Colón, a beautifully restored modernist market building. We explored the stalls and then stopped at Horchatería Daniel. Orxata, or horchata as it is often spelt elsewhere, is a traditional Valencian drink made from chufa, or tiger nuts. Served cold, it is lightly sweet, nutty, and incredibly refreshing, especially in warm weather. Drinking orxata here, rather than as a novelty elsewhere, made perfect sense; it tasted rooted, seasonal, and local.
The City of Arts and Sciences
As the light softened, we made our way to the Ciutat de les Arts i les Ciències. This complex feels almost otherworldly, with its sweeping white structures and reflective pools. Buildings like the Hemisfèric, the Palau de les Arts Reina Sofía, and the Museo de las Ciencias Príncipe Felipe are architectural statements as much as functional spaces.
Walking through the area at dusk, with the buildings glowing against the sky, felt like stepping into a vision of the future imagined from the past.
Walking into El Cabanyal
From there, we continued on foot toward El Cabanyal. This historic seaside neighbourhood has a very different energy, more lived-in and textured, with colourful tiled facades and a strong sense of local life. Reaching it on foot, after moving through so many layers of the city in one afternoon, underscored just how varied Valencia is. In a single day, we had moved from traditional cuisine to fine art, from green spaces to futuristic architecture, and finally into a neighbourhood shaped by the sea. It felt like the beginning of understanding Valencia, rather than the conclusion.
A Morning Cut Short
The next morning began quietly, with breakfast at a local bakery before heading toward Plaza del Ayuntamiento. From there, we walked past Mercat Central, still on the outside this time, as the city was properly waking up. By 10:00am, though, Valencia had to pause for me. I headed off to work for the day, stepping briefly out of travel mode.
That evening, I met Victor at Ostras Pedrín. We drank crisp white wine and shared an assortment of huevas, or cured fish roe. They were intense and briny, the kind of food that demands attention and works best when eaten slowly, with conversation and wine doing their part. After that, I went out to dinner with work colleagues, and that was the end of the day.
Esmorzaret, the Valencian Way
The following morning was all about esmorzaret. This cherished Valencian ritual sits somewhere between breakfast and lunch, usually enjoyed mid-morning, and has its roots in the routines of farm workers. It is generous, social, and unapologetically filling. A large bocadillo, often made with a rustic baguette, is filled with local ingredients such as brascada, made with veal, ham, and onions, or blanc i negre, a combination of sausage and black pudding. It comes with olives and peanuts, and is finished with a cremaet, a small coffee spiked with rum and briefly flamed.
We went to Nuevo Oslo, also known as El rei de l’esmorzaret, which fully lived up to its reputation. It was busy, loud, and completely committed to the ritual. This was not a meal to rush.
Markets, Silk, and the Old City
Afterwards, we returned to Mercat Central, this time going inside. Walking through the stalls was a sensory overload of colour, noise, and produce. There was even a stall dedicated to snails, a reminder of how deeply regional food traditions still run here.
From the market, we visited La Lonja de la Seda de Valencia. The courtyard, planted with orange trees, was my favourite part, calm and balanced against the ornate stonework. It felt like a pocket of stillness in the middle of the city.
We continued walking, passing the Palacio de Fuentehermosa and the Cathedral of Valencia, moving through plazas and streets that felt layered rather than monumental.
One Last Bite
Before leaving, we made one final food stop at Tasca Angel. We ordered their famous house sardines, simply prepared and absolutely perfect. It felt like the right way to end the trip, unpretentious and rooted in local habits.
And then it was time to leave Valencia, with the sense that we had finally met the city on its own terms.
What would you be most curious to experience in Valencia: the food, the art, or the spaces in between?
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