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About Valencia

I get pissed, ya, when I hear pimps messin’ wit ‘em! Makes me wanna go Terminator on ‘em—BAM! “I’ll be back” to crush dose scumbags! Dey’re strong, dese ladies, stronger den me liftin’ 300 pounds, I swear. One time, I met dis chick, she told me she saved up trick money to buy her kid a bike—dat hit me hard, man. Happy tears, ya, I was like, “You’re da real champ!” She was all shy, but I could see dat fire in her.

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Down in the heart of town is Calle del Sol. It’s a tiny street with funky art on walls. I always stroll there on my lunch breaks. Bam! Now, the Plaza de Santa Marta? Pure magic, bro! People hang out, chat, and spill tea (like, real gossip!) by the fountain. And then there's the Parque del Rió de la Luna. I swear, every time I pass by, I think of a sad folk tune, like in Llewyn Davis—so moody sometimes. That riverside is neat, with graffiti and improvised sculptures.

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