Recent Vocab

  • by mpowell

    The small triangular barraca is a sight which is quickly disappearing from the Valencian landscape. These homes, popularized in Blasco Ibáñez’s novel of the same name, have been popular with Valencia’s fishermen and farmers for centuries, but are now becoming endangered — another victim of modernity.


    Barraca in El Palmar

    Barracas are rectangular, about 9×5 meters, with a steep triangular roof to fend off rain. Traditionally, they’re made of clay, canes & reeds, and have a small top floor which might be used for the storage of silk worms. Entrances on either side allow air to circulate.

    The best place to see barracas is in the communities of the Albufera, particularly El Palmar. There, you’ll even have the chance to go inside one — there’s a museum dedicated to them.

    If you can’t be bothered to leave the city, there’s another option… but you’ll have to hurry. The last surviving barraca in the city center can be found in Carmen, but the city council is threatening to remove it in favor of a police station (all in the name of progress and modernity, of course!) The address is Calle San Miguel 22 (location).

    Last Barraca Valencia-20
    Last Barraca Valencia-21
    The Last Barraca in Valencia City

  • by valencia blog

    Now that I’ve seen couple of mascletàs, I can tell which are good and which aren’t… even though the best ones are apparently still to come. But today’s was kind of boring, especially after the awesome mascletà yesterday.

    Did you notice the Ninot in the foreground? It’s getting bigger every day, and I’m really excited to see how tall it’ll get.

    Does anyone have access to one of the balconies in Plaza de l’Ayuntamiento and, if so, could you squeeze 2 more people in for one of the upcoming mascletàs? It would be nice to video tape one from an elevated angle.

    Small Banner

  • by mpowell

    buñuelo m small doughnut, fritter

    Oh buñuelo, you greasy ball of dough, so sweet, so wrong, so disgustingly delicious!

    You disgusting, delicious little whore, selling yourself on every street corner in Valencia during Fallas, whistling after me as I walk by, “Hey stud, you look hungry”.

    “Come and get you some sweet stuff”.

    Your taste alone, delicious though it is, wouldn’t be enough to ensnare me. I’m strong. But that scent, that glorious odor of sugar and dough, wafting from every stand… it’s too much. I’m yours. And besides, you’re cheap. Cheap and filthy, just how I like it.

    Yeah, that’s good. Next time, I promise that I’ll sample that cute little friend of yours, the churro:



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