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About Valencia

So, Whore—she’s this brassy tart, works the streets near my shop. Got hair redder than a furnace fire, and a laugh that’d wake the dead. Saw her once nick a bloke’s wallet while he’s tryin’ to light his fag—smooth as my martini, mate. “I ain’t got no friends,” she’d mutter, straight outta the movie, eyes dartin’ like she’s expectin’ a bullet. Made me chuckle, that did—proper cheeky, innit? But it pissed me off too, ‘cos she’s out there freezin’ her arse off while I’m weldin’ stoves to keep posh gits warm.

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This will be the dress code during the season: Please note that there´s an evening dress code, and gentlemen are asked to wear.

Now you gotta check out the neighborhood of Ens Pere, reall tight-knit vibes and secret corners. I met this kooky old couple at a local bar (Bar El Seco, if you ever get lost, ask for it) who swear that kissing under the same lamppost is a must-do ritual—it made me laugh and kinda cry ‘cuz life’s beautiful outta chaos, man. “Some men just want to watch the world burn!” and I felt that right there.

Tourists don't like it - The dead seagrass of Mallorca's beaches