Annie Perreault
THE WOMAN IN VALENCIA
Translated from the French by Ann Marie Boulanger
Qc fiction
Revision: Peter McCambridge
Proofreading: David Warriner, Elizabeth West
Book design: Folio infographie
Cover & logo: Maison 1608 by Solisco
Cover art: Spirit Level by Jordan Sullivan, jordan-sullivan.com
Fiction editor: Peter McCambridge
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers.
Copyright © 2018 Les Éditions Alto
Originally published under the title La femme de Valence
by Les Éditions Alto, 2018 (Québec City, Québec)
Translation copyright © Ann Marie Boulanger
ISBN 978-1-77186-237-0 pbk; 978-1-77186-238-7 epub; 978-1-77186-239-4 pdf
Legal Deposit, 1st quarter 2021
Bibliothèque et Archives nationales du Québec
Library and Archives Canada
Published by QC Fiction, an imprint of Baraka Books
Printed and bound in Québec
TRADE DISTRIBUTION & RETURNS
Canada - UTP Distribution: UTPdistribution.com
United States & World - Independent Publishers Group: IPGbook.com
We acknowledge the financial support for translation and promotion of the Société de développement des entreprises culturelles (SODEC), the Government of Québec tax credit for book publishing administered by SODEC, the Government of Canada, and the Canada Council for the Arts.
Contents
I
THREE DAYS IN VALENCIA
(THE ARBITRARY COLOUR OF THE SKY)
THE WOMAN IN VALENCIA
MONTREAL, SUMMER 2009
BARCELONA
LEAVING BARCELONA
AT THE TRAIN STATION
ON THE TRAIN
DISCOVERING VALENCIA
STAYING IN VALENCIA: THE VALENCIA PALACE HOTEL
GETTING AROUND VALENCIA
DAY 2 ITINERARY: THE MAIN ATTRACTIONS
WE MIGHT AS WELL FLY
THREATS AND EMERGENCIES
THE HOTEL AT NIGHT
ROOM 714
DAY 3 ITINERARY
WORTH THE DETOUR: THE VALENCIA INSTITUTE OF MODERN ART
PUERTA DE SERRANOS
THE TRAIN RIDE
BACK IN BARCELONA
SITGES
MONTREAL AIRPORT
II
RETURN TO VALENCIA
(THE HOSTILE POINT ON THE HORIZON)
THINGS TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE
THE WEATHER OUTSIDE
2025 VALENCIA MARATHON: STARTING LINE
KILOMETRE 1
KILOMETRE 2
KILOMETRE 3
KILOMETRE 4
KILOMETRE 5
TRAVELLING LIGHT
WHEN TO LEAVE?
AT THE AIRPORT
TRAVELLING FOR A LIVING
LANDING IN SPAIN
THINGS SEEN AND DONE
GETTING AROUND BARCELONA
WHERE TO SLEEP?
WHERE TO EAT?
NOT TO BE MISSED: CULINARY DELICACIES
BARCELONA ON A SHOESTRING
KILOMETRE 6
KILOMETRE 7
KILOMETRE 8
KILOMETRE 9
KILOMETRE 10
THE TIME DIFFERENCE
LEAVING BARCELONA
TRAVEL BY TRAIN
ARTS AND ENTERTAINMENT
KILOMETRE 11
KILOMETRE 12
KILOMETRE 13
KILOMETRE 14
KILOMETRE 15
GETTING ORIENTED IN VALENCIA
STAYING IN VALENCIA: THE VALENCIA PALACE HOTEL
OFF THE BEATEN PATH: BENICALAP PARK
GETTING AROUND VALENCIA
KILOMETRE 16
KILOMETRE 17
KILOMETRE 18
KILOMETRE 19
KILOMETRE 20
NOT TO BE MISSED: PUERTA DE SERRANOS
WHERE TO SLEEP?
KILOMETRE 21.1
KILOMETRE 22
KILOMETRE 23
KILOMETRE 24
KILOMETRE 25
DAY 2 ITINERARY: THE MAIN ATTRACTIONS
THE CATHEDRAL
BLOCKING THE VIEW
KILOMETRE 26
KILOMETRE 27
KILOMETRE 28
KILOMETRE 29
KILOMETRE 30
THREATS AND EMERGENCIES
UNFORESEEN EVENTS
KILOMETRE 31
KILOMETRE 32
KILOMETRE 33
KILOMETRE 34
KILOMETRE 35
HAIR CARE
VALENCIA PALACE HOTEL
THE LOCALS
WORTH THE DETOUR: THE VALENCIA INSTITUTE OF MODERN ART
NOT TO BE MISSED: MERCADO DE COLÓN
IN THE CAR
GETTING ORIENTED
EL PERELLÓ
KILOMETRE 36
KILOMETRE 37
THE PRETTIEST BEACHES IN VALENCIA
KILOMETRE 38
KILOMETRE 39
THE SEA AT NIGHT
KILOMETRE 40
LEAVING VALENCIA
KILOMETRE 41
LEAVING
42.2 KILOMETRES
Points de repère
Epigraphe
Page de Titre
“Indifference is the paralysis of the soul; it is premature death.”
— Anton Chekhov, “A Boring Story”
(translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky)
“How to avoid going back? Get lost. I don’t know how. You’ll learn. I need some signpost to lead me astray. Make your mind a blank. Refuse to recognize familiar landmarks. Turn your steps towards the most hostile point on the horizon, towards the vast marshlands, bewilderingly criss-crossed by a thousand causeways.”
— Marguerite Duras, The Vice-Consul (translated by Eileen Ellenbogen
A terrible chill runs through your body when you think back to Valencia.
And yet, it was August in a city by the sea, almost the end of summer vacation, the tail end of a suffocatingly hot summer. It happened next to the pool, when the light was at its peak.
You were stretched out in what little shade there was to be had on a rooftop, your mind elsewhere. Not one for swanky hotels and bikinis, you were wearing a suit that you’d bought the day before, strings knotted tightly over your hipbones and around your neck. You were lazing on a deck chair, an open book resting on your stomach like a delicate paper tent. You had absolutely no expectations, other than soaking up the sun, getting a little rest, lazing in the tropical heat. Lying there limply, you were completely worry free, untroubled by any thoughts of the past, wanting nothing other than to be left alone. Through heavy eyelids, your gaze travelled idly between the sky, the perfectly straight row of empty lounge chairs, and the smattering of moles on your thigh like tiny black pinheads embedded in your flesh.
You must’ve spent a good hour lounging like that, killing time, when you noticed something moving out of the corner of your eye, to your left. A woman was walking toward you. You turned to look over your shoulder and at that precise second, Valencia became—and would forever remain—a city of ice. The sky turned to grey, to concrete.
You were the last person to speak to her. On the roof of the Valencia Palace Hotel, you did nothing to stop the withered blonde woman. You didn’t lay a hand on her shoulder, didn’t suggest that she sit or lie down, didn’t offer her a glass of water. You didn’t even light her cigarette when she fumbled with her
