This is exactly what I came searching for: the feeling of being part of the neighborhood.
It’s been a little over a month since I arrived in Valencia, and today I had an extra spring in my step because on my little commute to and from getting groceries, I recognized several people in my neighborhood.
The feeling starts as soon as I exit the elevator and step foot in the street. Out on the street, it feels alive. People sipping both beer and coffee at 8am at Cafe Bombon, where the owners work tirelessly from 8am until midnight every day. Kids walking alone with their big backpacks on their way to school. Grandmas in line at the bakery, people biking to work, and others out with their dogs on a walk.
Every morning there is a man sitting on the bench in front of my building. He has a suitcase next to him, but the most peculiar thing is he always has his nose in a book. The man is always reading. He switches benches throughout my street throughout the day, following the shade.
On the corner of my building, I walk past the bakery window every day on the way to my gym and see the same bread baker laminating croissants at exactly the same time every single day. On my way out of the gym, it usually times perfectly with an older woman with a walker and a tiny dog that has difficulty walking. Both of them, wobbling out onto the street on the way to get a coffee at Bombon every morning.
There’s also Sandra and Abrahan, the Venezuelans who run a nuts, seeds, and condiments stall inside the Ruzafa Market. They’ve become a once-a-week stop for me where I can have a nice conversation along with my cinnamon, almonds, walnuts, black tea, cardamom, oats, and whatever other “granel” things I need. The market itself is covered, home to dozens of fruit, veggie, meat, and fish vendors, a Mexican tienda for tortillas, a Latino stall for arepas and Colombian cheese, an Italian one for fresh pasta, a Greek one for dolmas and hummus.
The pilgrimage to the market usually happens twice a week between the hours of 8am and 2pm when they close. On my walk home today, I spotted the bartender of my favorite little neighborhood bar, El Abrazo de China, where I like to work from in the mornings and drink a verdejo in the evening. A minute later, I spotted the owner of the papeleria where I go pick up the packages I order online. He had closed up shop for the 2pm siesta and was walking into his apartment just two buildings down the street from me. Then I recognized a coach from my gym leaving a restaurant after lunch.
For the past two days in a row, I’ve taken to becoming a regular at a little cafe downstairs that looks like nothing special from the outside, but it’s full of locals. A nice change from the overpriced Speciality Coffeeshops that are lining the streets. I’ve taken it upon myself to frequent this little joint where the same two cute grandmas come each morning to eat tostada con tomate and sip cafe con leche while they have a chisme session. In the meantime, I sit on the terrace and write, while people-watching across the street as the Ruzafa market comes to life with it’s flower vendors opening the awnings and fruits being loaded inside, and where I can hear the bell tower from the church in the plaza chime at the top of the hour.
This is one of the things I came looking for.
What are ways people connect where you live? Do you know a lot of people in your neighborhood? Would be curious to hear your comments! Thank you for reading. —Maria