I’m a greedy tourist. When I travel, I want to experience it all: the old and the new, the quaint and the cosmopolitan, the historic and the contemporary. So when I heard about a city that flows with the ease of a small town while boasting beaches, museums and architectural masterpieces on par with those of the world’s great cultural centers, I took notice.

I was chatting with a musician who’d recently toured Spain’s third-largest city, Valencia. “It has one of the most gorgeous skies I’ve ever seen,” she said. “The light is intoxicating.” She continued to extol the city’s virtues: It was alternately a “hot, happening city” and a “cute little town.” The contradictions intrigued me. How successfully, I wondered, did the place straddle them? Armed with my curiosity and a carry-on, I set off to find out.

Arriving in Valencia at an ungodly hour of the morning, I stumbled up to the reception desk of my hotel. Still dazed from the medication that had failed to induce sleep in the air but was instilling stupor on the ground, I learned that my room wouldn’t be ready for several hours. Forced to rally, I stored my luggage, splashed water on my face, downed a coffee and headed out to investigate the town.

I joined a walking tour of the spot where it all began, the Centro Historico. Exploring the city’s past, we learned that retired Roman soldiers created a community named Valentia here in 138 B.C.; that Arabs conquered the region in the eighth century, introducing the rice that would eventually crown the city the birthplace of paella and the oranges that continue to be the region’s most important cash crop; and that King James converted Valencia to Christianity in 1238, erecting churches on the sites of demolished mosques. Our guide, Jose, pointed out remnants from medieval times: the Torres de Serranos and, across the city center, the Torres de Quart, towers that for centuries served as both prisons and the gates of the city wall.

As we roamed through the winding walkways, I was smitten with the balconies that extended from seemingly every window in town, some curving, with intricate ironwork, some tiled with Mediterranean ceramics. As a New Yorker, I envied these beautifully crafted stages for viewing what I would have to concur is one of the most gorgeous skies I’ve ever seen.

Our group moved deeper into the city center toward the Gothic glory of La Lonja. Now a designated UNESCO World Heritage Site, this building was the commodity exchange and hub for the city’s booming silk trade in the 16th century. With its twisting pillars soaring almost 60 feet to the vaulted ceiling, it was immediately clear why La Lonja is considered one of Europe’s most significant non-religious Gothic buildings.

Across the street, the architectural style fast-forwarded 400 years as we approached the Mercado Central. “This structure of brick, stone, iron, wood, ceramic and glass is a model example of the modernist design,” explained Jose, leading us toward a stand with countless hanging hams for a taste of jamon serrano. With about 900 stalls selling fresh produce, cheeses, spices, meat, seafood and just about any other comestible you can imagine, the Mercado is the largest indoor market in Europe. That morning it buzzed with movement and chatter. And although pockets of tourists snapped pictures and stared at the painted oranges embellishing the ceiling’s cupolas, most of the crowd was local, speaking Spanish or Valenciano, the regional language, and going about their daily shopping.