I wake up often in the night. The windmills collect sounds with their giant sails. Distant sirens, discoteques, planes, and birds. A few cars pull up to admire the view. They don’t see me. Morning wind hums through the cables that restrain the windmills arms. Make my breakfast on the steps of the train station.
Valencia is hot, humid and huge. A long river of trees and park through the sity ends in collection of incredible architecture, like huge bleached fish skeleton, a city of art and sciences. I ride, and get lost, find the beach, the empty historic centre, and eventually the train station again. Its a five hour trip.
Barcelona is teeming with people. La Rambla is full of tourists, vendors of spraypaint fantasy art, characature artists, trinkets and designer knock offs. I push through the crowd on rose. All the hostels are full, and I don’t want to pay for them anyway. Something as simple as a sliver of space to sleep should not be so expensive.
So I make my way to a park, and after making a late dinner, ride up a gravel path to a find a concrete slab bench hidden in the shadows to make my bed. its 2 before I lay down in the hot roar of the motorway nearby.
