Hi! I’m Roy. When I’m not teaching Hebrew at Citizen Café, I’m a full-time musician. I moved to Valencia four years ago to pursue my master’s degree in music. It was meant to be temporary, but like many stories in this city, it slowly turned into something more permanent.
You might spot me playing around the city – at Black Note, Fabrica de Hielo, or sometimes tucked under a bridge in a park (honestly, natural reverb is free and unbeatable). What I like about Valencia is that nothing feels rushed. There’s sun most of the year, the beach is always close, and people spend a lot of time outside without needing a reason. Most mornings I walk through Turia Park. Other days I end up by the sea. It’s easy to fall into your own rhythm here.
1. Where do I get my coffee?
If I’m being honest, my daily coffee happens at home. Proper Turkish coffee (strong, black, and unapologetically muddy) isn’t easy to come by in Valencia. Maybe one day I’ll introduce it properly and convince people that coffee grounds stuck between your teeth is actually part of the charm… But when I do feel like stepping out into the world, Borja Café is my spot.
This small Argentinian family-run café has grown steadily over time, and it’s easy to see why. The coffee is excellent, with beans sourced from around the world, especially South America, but the real highlight is the pastry counter. As someone with a serious sweet tooth, I can confirm: their alfajores and pastries are dangerously good. They offer vegan and gluten-free options too, but honestly, you can’t go wrong – point at anything and it’ll be delicious.
The space is tiny, fitting twenty people at most, and is always full. It has that rare quality of feeling both busy and intimate at the same time. Something about it reminds me of a small Tel Aviv gem: warm, familiar, and full of life.
2. Where do I go when I’m feeling fancy?
Valencia isn’t a very “fancy” city, and I like that. People here don’t seem too concerned with impressing anyone. I live outside the city center, partly because of the university, partly because of rent, but also because I wanted to experience something more local. From my balcony, I see a school basketball court that looks like it’s been there for decades. There’s a supermarket nearby, everything within reach. Life feels simple, in a good way.
So when I do go out, it’s not a big production. A jacket, a pair of jeans, and I’m on my way to Jimmy Glass Jazz Bar. It’s one of the few places where I go just to listen. The space is small, the music is serious, and there’s no need for anything extra. You sit, you listen, and that’s enough. It’s the closest thing to a jazz sanctuary in the city. Intimate, just enough elegance to make it feel like an occasion, and filled with incredible musicians!
3. Cultural hub
Valencia has its cultural heavyweights: the Fine Arts Museum, the City of Arts and Sciences (which still gives me a “wow” moment every time I pass by). But my personal cultural hub is much smaller. In Spain, almost everything is dubbed. So finding a cinema that shows films in their original language is rare. Cine Babel is one of those places, and it’s just a short walk from my house.
There’s nothing flashy about it – no giant snack stands, no over-the-top design. Just a quiet entrance, a simple setup, and the feeling that it’s been part of the neighborhood for years. I’ve spent many evenings there with friends from university, watching everything from Marvel films (I’ll admit – I’m a fan) to sci-fi. The sound isn’t perfect, nor is the screen, but that’s part of its intimate charm. Right next door, Bar Babel offers classic bocadillos and a cold beer, the perfect post-film ritual.
Photo: StellarD, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons
4. My go-to outdoor spot
This one is obvious: Turia Park is one of the main reasons people fall in love with Valencia, and I’m no exception. Most mornings, I start my day there. Sometimes it’s a bit of Tai Chi under a tree, sometimes a long walk, sometimes just a quiet moment to myself. It’s the easiest way to step out of the city without actually leaving it.
Stretching over nine kilometers, the park follows the old riverbed of the Turia, which was diverted after the devastating floods of 1957. What could have been a scar became one of the city’s greatest assets. If you’ve seen the Ayalon highway in Israel (route 20), imagine replacing it with a continuous green park running through the entire city. That’s Turia.
And if you keep going, it connects to Parque de Cabecera and the city’s Bioparc, nature layered into the city itself.
5. A place that I don’t like in the city
Honestly? Inside my apartment. Valencian buildings have… let’s call it “excellent sound transmission”. The walls are so thin that you’re basically living with your neighbors. You hear everything, conversations, whispers, full life stories. Airflow isn’t great either – one or two windows at most, neighbors on all sides, and a full surround-sound experience of the building. It’s a level of togetherness that even my Israeli background finds challenging, but it helps me to better understand the mentality and warmth of people.
After living in a quiet kibbutz in the Negev before moving to Valencia, this is something I’m still getting used to, and I’m not sure I’ve succeeded yet. But maybe that’s also why life here happens outside. With long days and late sunsets, people naturally move their lives to the streets, the parks, and the beach. The apartment might feel a bit suffocating, but the city itself doesn’t.
6. A significant person for you who was born in the city or currently lives there
I still feel like I’m discovering the city, so I don’t have a “local icon” to name. But someone who had a real impact on me is my former saxophone teacher, Javier Vercher.
We met at Berklee Valencia while I was pursuing my master’s degree. I met Javier at a pivotal moment in my life. On the one hand, I felt I had reached a threshold after ten years of working as a music teacher; on the other, I was filled with excitement about beginning a new chapter by relocating to Spain. At the same time, it was a turbulent period, marked by the war in Gaza following October 7.
My heart and mind were somewhat all over the place then, and he helped ground me, bringing my focus back to my playing and to the music. He encouraged me to surrender, to give myself to the moment fully. During long hours in the practice room, he helped me understand not just music, but myself, my path, my decisions, my sense of direction, and what I’m actually doing here. Sometimes, the most important and significant people are the ones who meet you at the right moment and leave a mark that lasts.
