We arrived in Valencia just before midday, and skated from the train station into the city centre through the Torres de Quart, a towering stone arch peppered with 400-year-old bullet holes from the Spanish War of Independence.
Picking a destination for a skateboarding holiday is no easy task. Each person has their own idea of what they want from the trip, and the decision is further complicated by budgets, climates and (increasingly, as most involved have now reached our mid-twenties) work schedules.
In winter the light is never right. The low sun hides behind buildings and trees and makes shadows fall heavier throughout the day. What little daylight there is at the weekends is usually missed, the result of a long lie in after a long night out.
When I ran out of film in Barcelona a few weeks ago, I decided to make use of the out-of-date WallMart film that I found in the bottom of the shoebox that my second-hand camera came in.
It’s a chilly 12°C outside. If I look over my shoulder, rain drops are racing down my window pane and a bitter wind shakes the trees in my dull, dreary English garden. The heating’s on now, and I’m wearing my warmest jumper as I sit here writing about a time just over a week ago, when I spent seven sun-drenched days skating around one of the most beautiful cities in the world.
Having recently returned from a week in Berlin it seems quite strange to be writing about a city I visited no less than six months ago. Every time I try to think back to that week in March my mind succumbs to the much more recent memories of Rosa-Luxemburg-Strasse,Alexanderplatz and the Reichstag buildings.