Spain

All Poems, Natural Beauty, Pleasure, Spain, Trees, Trips and Places, Valencia

Moreton Bay Fig Trees

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I long for walks in Parterre, Glorieta Parks.

Where each morning, I gaze at Moreton Bay Figs.

Trunks, living sculptures.

Rooted in the ground.

Sometimes, undulating waves.

Other times, colossal legs of prehistoric giants.

Ready to lift massive feet, lumber forward.

Shake sprawling green canopies.

Brandish beard-like epiphytes.

In another season, likely drop fruits.

But in January, looking like they want to hold you.

In sinewy craters.

Take you in, embrace you.

Arouse you with majesty, magic.

Setting off ripples of thought.

Making easy, ruminations

to record on pocket papers.

Mysterious inspirations.

 

Lynn Benjamin

February 12, 2024

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All Poems, Memories, Spain, Trips and Places, Valencia

Drying Rack

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We used a drying rack first in Amsterdam.

When the apartment only had a washer/dryer combination.

Which would take hours to dry clothes.

Hence, the rack.

Also, taking hours, but easier to use.

Not requiring electricity.

Or figuring out hieroglyphics on the knobs.

Again, in Valencia, we had a combined washer/dryer.

The proprietress recommended using the line.

Outside over the courtyard.

That’s what the Spanish do, she said.

But, our preference, the drying rack.

Which we decorated with socks, shirts, underwear.

Orange towels, sheets.

Numerous times.

Not minding the overnight they took to dry.

Once home, our wash tumbled, spilled out of suitcases.

In colorful confusion.

We used the dryer for jeans and tees.

But, we, too, own a drying rack.

Bought after the Amsterdam trip.

So, we pulled it out.

For accessories like gloves, scarves, hats.

Another reminder, though small, of our month

in Valencia on the coast of Spain.

A most simple way to remember our time.

Summon both of us down memory lane.

 

Lynn Benjamin

February 9, 2024

All Poems, Farewell, Spain, Trips and Places, Valencia

Plaza de la Reina

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Can only a month in a place feel like home?

Our apartment was around the corner from Plaza de la Reina.

Named for the first wife of King Alfonso XII.

Renovated over three centuries.

Nineteenth, twentieth, twenty-first.

Most recently, to make it pedestrian.

Despite cars entering, exiting from an underground garage.

Delivery trucks, cleaning crews, scooters and bikes.

All adding to the animation of the square.

Lined with shops, eateries.

Dotted with palm tree gardens, flowers.

Where you can rely on pop-up entertainment.

Pianists, fire performers, singers.

On Sundays, traditional dancing.

Women and men in regional garb.

Or at Christmas, an additional two dozen craft kiosks.

This plaza is the go-to place.

For chocolates and churros.

A quick coffee or tapa.

Ice cream in a cone.

It’s nestled against the Cathedral of Valencia.

Whose bells chime on the hour.

Sending down sacred sounds.

Can only a month in a place feel like home?

Well, I tramped that plaza a dozen times each day.

Disposing of waste in receptacles on both sides of the square.

Glass, paper, containers, organics, remains.

Or, coming in, going out through one of the many streets.

Radiating from it like arms of an octopus.

So, when you return from anywhere, you’re there.

On one side of it or the other.

Then, only a minute from the apartment on Luis Vives.

Can only a month in a place feel like home?

Well, when there’s a plaza to receive,

invite you to mingle with your neighbors,

it warms your heart, makes it hard to leave.

 

Lynn Benjamin

February 8, 2024

 

 

 

All Poems, Food, Madrid, Spain, Time, Trips and Places

Twenty-five Minutes

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Tickets for Chagall’s exposition, secured.

Still a twenty-five minute wait for entrance.

Why not a coffee at the Gran Café de Gijón?

Founded in 1888 by Gumersindo Gómez.

Named to honor his town in Asturias.

Hosting Spanish intellectuals.

Gathering in tertúlias to talk.

Think, debate, discuss.

Continuing to this day.

Welcoming people to meet.

Opening arms to friends, to us.

To grab a beer, coffee, tea, ice cream.

Comment on books, arts, travels.

While we wait for entry.

The four of us sitting face to face

where luminaries once shared views.

Pondering politics, art, literature,

at the Gijón Café, their muse.

 

Lynn Benjamin

February 6, 2024

 

All Poems, Art/Arts, Madrid, Spain, Trips and Places

Happenstance

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It was happenstance.

On our one and only day in Madrid.

Fundación Mapfre debuted an exhibit.

A trajectory of works by Marc Chagall.

Artist we admire.

For Jewish folkloric themes.

Painting poetry.

Bold colors.

Surreal imagery.

The display guided us through his life.

The many losses.

Dashed hopes for the Russian Revolution.

Grief over two world wars.

Destruction of his birthplace, Vitebsk.

Massacres of fellow Jews.

In pogroms, the Holocaust.

Death of his beloved Bella.

We felt his pain.

His joys, nostalgias.

Wandering halls.

For Marc Chagall invites you in

to enter his dreamworld,

where hues, metaphors, protagonists,

moved, floated, spun, and swirled.

 

Lynn Benjamin

February 6, 2024

 

 

 

All Poems, Food, Madrid, Miracles, Spain, Trips and Places

If Only the Train

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If only the train hadn’t broken down, lamented Bob.

As we rushed down stairs to another track.

To catch a functioning one to Madrid.

From Alcalá de Henares.

Where we’d meet friends for comida.

Worrying the delay would make us late.

But, arriving on the dot.

A miracle just like the one we were about to experience.

Returning to Madrid after many years.

How do you embrace a city?

You knew well in your youth?

Coming to see her often.

Walk the old neighborhoods.

Visit friends in the new.

You, deteriorating, wrinkling.

While the city refurbishes.

Keeps up with the times.

Perhaps exceeds them.

We know only to retrace familiar steps.

Plaza Mayor, Arco de Cuchilleros.

Casa Botín.

Itself a witness to three centuries.

Early on, feeding traders.

Becoming the world’s first restaurant in 1725.

Keeping its hallmark oven.

Using wood of the evergreen oak.

To make Castilian asados.

Today, its tiled walls still inspiring.

Its smoky aromas arousing appetites.

After eating, we go off with friends to wander.

Royal Palace, Gran Vía.

Point out places we once took our children.

Ourselves.

Where we met older friends, long gone.

Though the train broke down,

we made it to Madrid.

While we slip by in time,

the city will us outlive.

 

Lynn Benjamin

February 5, 2024

asados: roast meats

All Poems, Farewell, Spain, Trips and Places, Valencia

Last Morning in Valencia

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I roamed plazas, streets on the last morning in Valencia.

By the light of a half moon.

And electric lamps that lit the way.

Across Plaza de la Reina.

To La Virgen.

To see the Statue of El Turia once more.

Then back to Calle de La Paz.

Parque Parterre, Glorieta.

One more foray along my route.

Before return to 4 Luis Vives.

To gather bags.

Return keys.

Take leave of María, the propietaria.

Settle in with Bob in a taxi.

Toward the airport.

For a day in Madrid.

A small dessert

post Valencian repast.

To consolidate memories,

store, protect them, make them last.

 

Lynn Benjamin

February 4, 2024

All Poems, Art/Arts, Museums, Spain, Trips and Places, Valencia

Lladró Museum

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Our son and granddaughter bade adieu.

After four days of running hither, yon.

Leaving us to organize our last four days in Valencia.

My curiosity got the better of me.

Urging me to check out the Lladró Museum.

In Tavernes Blanques, a town outside Valencia.

Where Lladró porcelain is made.

Since Bob and I, heirs to many figurines.

Brought home as gifts from Spain for parents.

Now sitting in our china cabinet.

So, we decided to walk the hour’s journey.

Past city limits through vegetable fields.

To the museum in the town.

Arriving unannounced.

The workshop, where they manufacture, closed.

We proceeded to the exhibition hall.

Quiet, not a visitor in sight.

Where a soft-spoken woman offered water.

Took us on a tour of various rooms.

Telling us Lladró had evolved.

To making elaborate utilitarian products.

Costly chandeliers, candle holders, jewelry.

As well as intricate mammoth pieces.

A carnival in Venice.

Asian, mythological scenes.

Disney characters, parrots.

Traditional Spanish icons.

It was plain to see that Lladró marched forward.

But, there was no historical timeline posted.

No indication of changes through decades.

How it started, developed.

Interacted with the marketplace.

So although the pieces, ornate, embellished,

by theme, grouped in a salon,

it deeply disappointed us.

Not a word of days bygone.

 

Lynn Benjamin

February 4, 2024

All Poems, Art/Arts, Museums, Spain, Trips and Places, Valencia

Second to Last Day in Valencia

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Time continued to contract.

Giving us two days to see the yet unseen.

So off to the Plaza del Ayuntamiento we went.

To tour the grand City Hall.

Built by Francisco Mora Berenguer.

Grand ball rooms, twin staircases, clock tower.

Facing a pedestrian square.

A dozen flower stalls.

Perfuming the whole area.

Then down to the basement.

To experience tunnels where citizens fled.

During the Civil War.

When Franco bombarded the city.

Noting a statue in homage to La Dama de Elche.

Symbol of the Valencian woman.

From there to the House/Museum of Benlliure.

Valencian artist.

Friend of Joaquín Sorolla.

Who taught José Benlliure’s son, Peppino.

An artist in his own right.

Whose works also grace the house.

Along with sculptures by José’s brother, Mariano.

The exhibit featuring art work, furniture.

Memorabilia from the turn of the twentieth century.

José Benlliure’s painting studio.

A temporary display of Sorolla’s depictions of Valencia.

And a magnificent garden.

Palm trees, pergolas, plants.

Colorful tiles of typical Valencian scenes.

Religious processions.

As well as an outdoor tiled kitchen.

Rivaling the one in the Porcelain Museum.

We felt full as we exited the house.

As if digesting a satisfying meal.

Strolling through Turia Park.

Talking about José Benlliure.

His thirty-year sojourn in Italy.

Loss of his talented son.

Before he could realize his potential.

Rooms dedicated to his pieces.

The incredible skill of Mariano.

Painter and renowned sculptor.

Give thanks to María Benlliure.

José’s daughter, thoughtful, kind.

Donating dwelling and gardens.

Priceless gift to leave behind.

 

Lynn Benjamin

February 4, 2024

 

All Poems, Museums, Spain, Trips and Places, Valencia

History of Valencia

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Valencia is a city full of history.

She has museums to document it.

The Museum of Archeology takes you underground.

To the Almoina neighborhood.

To Roman ruins.

The forum, baths, streets.

Storage center for grains.

Factories for oil, wine, garum.

To a wall of the Moorish Alcázar.

To Visigothic tombs.

To a Christian charitable institution.

While the Museum of the History of Valencia intrigues.

Housed in the city’s water reservoir from 1850.

Taking the visitor through twenty-two centuries.

Up to the restoration of the Spanish Republic.

Stories of multiple civilizations.

One atop the last.

But, also narratives of wars, plagues, cruelties.

Hardship, poverty, intolerance.

Natural disasters, catastrophes.

Though Valencia’s history amazing,

suffering, pain profound.

Look underneath the facts.

Sadness, grief abound.

 

Lynn Benjamin

February 3, 2024