And a longing,
Incredible longing
To eavesdrop
On the conversation
Of cooks.
– From “The Partial Explanation” by Charles Simic
Just over a month ago I was telling people that no way no how was I ready to move back to the states. No way. Too much left to see and do.
Then I went down to a cafe for a coffee and heard three different languages being spoken around me, none of which were mine. I couldn’t earwig. I was bored.
Days later I stumbled upon this poem, an old favorite by Charles Simic, one night when I’d given up trying to fall back asleep, and all of a sudden what I thought I felt about “old home” and “new home” I didn’t know with the same certainty.
It had been so long since I read some poetry, that I had forgotten how a poem can be a mirror, a little hand held number with a faux tortoise shell surround that never closes completely after the first use. The fact that it doesn’t close properly is an ongoing annoyance, but you don’t throw it away. Because although the plastic bits are cheap, the glass reflects honestly. The little fucker.
Where all this consternation is leading I can’t tell. So, I’m going to Valencia. To see more than think. At least for 36 hours. It’s not too much to ask.
Valencia is on our travel list this year as well, likely in September. I’m really looking forward to it. I was there once but only airport-metro-train station so I don’t really count it.
Every time we go back there, I like it more. The buildings designed by Calatrava are absolutely stunning. Tim’s brother and his wife stayed at the Hotel Las Arenas which is on the beach, but you can get a bus into the old town. They loved it. And got a really good deal by booking it on the internet. Some of the museums are closed on Mondays, so keep that in mind. We always forget. {sigh}