Those of you who read the blog know that we are partial to what we call Death Marches—walks of at least 10 miles. These were suspended for a time, but we’re now easing back into them.

Since we had just arrived in Valencia and had a busy week with friends, we didn’t have time to pick up the few odds and ends we decided were necessary for our long-term happiness. Thus, our first modified Death March led us to IKEA. Yes, we braved an IKEA on a Saturday afternoon. (This was Steven’s idea as I have a significant aversion to shopping, especially crowded shopping.) I also suspected that the walk would not be a beautiful one as we were heading straight south through less interesting (and a tad shabbier) neighborhoods than our own.

Nevertheless, it was a lovely day for a 2-hour, 5-miles walk. I think I only said, “Are we there yet 3 or 4 times.” When we finally saw the blue and yellow signage of our destination, I was thrilled, if only because I knew there would be a clean bathroom.We wisely remembered to look at the list we had put together, but IKEA is a madhouse and we do not know the Spanish words for “drain board” or “toilet paper holder” so we were basically on a low-rent treasure hunt. One key fact to know if you are from the U.S. is that people here to not drink giant cups of coffee or really anything else, so we settled for semi-giant mugs and glasses instead. (It is terrible! The largest cup I could find was 50cl—18oz—barely large enough for a small drink!) We were able to get most of what we set out to buy and got out of there for less than €150. In case you thought we were completely crazy, we didn’t walk back. Instead, we took a fabulous Uber, which we richly deserved after plowing through the crowds, which probably added another couple of miles to our walking total. (The IKEA here, and maybe everywhere, is a one way system, with various cutthroughs and switchbacks so if you miss something, it is really hard to go back and get it.)

Saturday night, we ventured all the way around the corner to Swagat, an Indian restaurant recommended by our relocation specialist, Stephanie. We will never have to venture much further than that to eat if we don’t want to since there’s almost one of every type of restaurant we like (plus at least three Mexican places within a block or two). We’ll never make it to all the spots we pass and say, “We should go there.” We never do. It’s a great “problem” to have.

We’re pretty much game to try anything, so when our friends Nancy and Paul asked if we wanted to go to an old car show north of the city, we said, “Sure!” We planned to meet them on the train. We had purchased subscriptions to Valenbici (you can get what that is or click the link), so the idea was to ride to the train station since the line we needed isn’t close to us. Of course, you know it didn’t go well. First, there were no available bikes at our closest to our apartment, so we walked a few extra blocks. Then, we couldn’t figure out how to unlock them (and they wrote the instructions in some foreign language!!!). We ended up calling an Uber and meeting them at their station since we were getting nervous about time.

The subway ride to Moncada, just north of Valencia, was uneventful and a lot of people got off when we did. We followed them to the site of the car show and sat down in a cafe. Steven and Paul went in to get our order. We waited and waited for them. Finally, Steven came out with two drinks, but the other two were MIA. We waited and waited. Apparently, the little cafe was overwhelmed. The old man who was working there kept wandering off looking for cups, since they had a shortage, the woman behind the counter was yelling at the workers, and they lost the other half of our order. Finally, we all reconvened, drank our coffees and headed off to wander amid the cars. There were some beauties there, including a very lovely Mercedes convertible. (Private note to Michael: lots and lots of cool European cars a bunch of old British sports cars; you would have totally loved it.)

Of course, there was a cover band. Can you guess what style and era of music they were playing? If you said ’70s-’80s rock, you’d be correct. (Is Hotel California rock? I don’t know, but I know that even in Spain you can never leave (and you’re welcome if you’ll be singing that all day.))

We took the metro home, walked 20 minutes back from the station and mostly called it a day after that especially since the Yankees were playing afternoon games, so Steven could watch after dinner. (I’m not going to admit we were tired.)

BTW: I know we’re a week or so behind. Don’t worry, we won’t let you miss any of our exciting adventures.