It’s amazing how quickly one adapts to the more leisurely-paced European lifestyle. By the time we reached Valencia on the fifth day of our vacation, I was waking up “late” every day, taking long siestas in the afternoon, strolling instead of striding, and eating dinner as darkness began to fall.
And once we discovered the silky sands and warm Mediterranean waters of Valencia, the conversion was complete.
Transcribed from travel journal
Every afternoon we take the bus to the beach, counting out Euros and cents to pay the smiling African attendant for our sun chaises. Families are sprawled in large groups everywhere. Grandmothers bouncing babies on their laps, brothers wrestling in the waves, husbands smoothing away sand from the foreheads of their wives. I often fall asleep to the murmurs, giggles and shouts around me.
And my skin gets browner.
My shoulders now reflect light in the evenings like polished brass. I am slowly turning into a brilliant star, glowing from the inside and outside. I think that’s what I love most about being at the beach – how it provokes heightened physical sensations along with intense mental relaxation.
The penetrating heat of the sun slows down the pace of my thoughts and dullens my perceptions. My eyes swim in the honey-coloured shades swirling beneath my eyelids. My ears are lulled into a deep sleep by the waves of the sea. My nose is busy keeping my breath velvety soft. My tongue curls in my mouth, also asleep. My fingers are pinned under the sun’s rays.
Even my organs feel soft and heavy in my belly. My lungs gently ripple, lifting my ribs with each inhale. Only my skin is suddenly more alive than it’s ever been.
Blood rises to the surface of the skin so steadily that it soon feels as if my skin has a heartbeat of its own. Bathed by currents of heat from above and below, tickled by rivulets of sweat that follow the curves of muscle and fat, my nerve endings are prickling and their sounds take over the frequency of my mind – my thoughts having long ago risen to the skin’s surface and evaporated.
My mind is enslaved by my body and suddenly, I think that I’m actually being touched. Is that the hand of the sun slowly caressing my stomach, my thighs, my arms? Too tired to open my eyes, I try to reason myself out of this sensation – try to convince myself that this feeling is simply a consequence of too much heat.
But to no avail. My mind retreats back into the warm grotto of nothingness and I leave my body open to the elements. Let the sun have its way with me then…
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Valencia – Golden
And once we discovered the silky sands and warm Mediterranean waters of Valencia, the conversion was complete.
Transcribed from travel journal
Every afternoon we take the bus to the beach, counting out Euros and cents to pay the smiling African attendant for our sun chaises. Families are sprawled in large groups everywhere. Grandmothers bouncing babies on their laps, brothers wrestling in the waves, husbands smoothing away sand from the foreheads of their wives. I often fall asleep to the murmurs, giggles and shouts around me.
And my skin gets browner.
My shoulders now reflect light in the evenings like polished brass. I am slowly turning into a brilliant star, glowing from the inside and outside. I think that’s what I love most about being at the beach – how it provokes heightened physical sensations along with intense mental relaxation.
Even my organs feel soft and heavy in my belly. My lungs gently ripple, lifting my ribs with each inhale. Only my skin is suddenly more alive than it’s ever been.
Blood rises to the surface of the skin so steadily that it soon feels as if my skin has a heartbeat of its own. Bathed by currents of heat from above and below, tickled by rivulets of sweat that follow the curves of muscle and fat, my nerve endings are prickling and their sounds take over the frequency of my mind – my thoughts having long ago risen to the skin’s surface and evaporated.
My mind is enslaved by my body and suddenly, I think that I’m actually being touched. Is that the hand of the sun slowly caressing my stomach, my thighs, my arms? Too tired to open my eyes, I try to reason myself out of this sensation – try to convince myself that this feeling is simply a consequence of too much heat.
But to no avail. My mind retreats back into the warm grotto of nothingness and I leave my body open to the elements. Let the sun have its way with me then…
Missed my impressions of Barcelona? Read them here.
Photos: Ciudad de Las Artes y Las Ciencias