ART AND ARTISANS

This last month has been a whirlwind of travel...I think Ryanair should pay ME for flying with them! But now that I've had a moment to breathe, the things that stand out from our trips are the Artists and Artisans we met, discovered and rediscovered along the way.

THE ARTISTS

The first heart palpitation hit when we were in The Little Museum in Dublin and came across a photo of Samuel Beckett--that in itself set my heart a-beatin'--but the accompanying post card sealed the deal....

     The homework assignment:  write a letter to a person who lived in your house before you did    (remember those assignments?)  Well for this kid, it was Beckett!  And he, Beckett, responded--

"If you ever meet my ghost in house or grounds,

give it my regards...yours antiquatedly, Sam Beckett"

 

Don't ya love it??  Generosity of spirit peppered with a sense of humor and lots of heart....ahhhh.

The images were burned to my eyelids.  My head was pounding.  My blood sugar was low...I couldn't do another Dali without food.  We had to break up our visit to the Reina-Sofia's traveling Dali exhibit into two 3 hour blocks to maintain our connection to the real world.  The ants, disintegrated phones, dismembered bodies, monsters, real and imagined, cascaded, one upon the other, grabbing me by the throat and thrashing me about.  It took me days to shake off the impact....To give you an idea, after the Dalis, we went to see Picasso's Guernica---I gotta tell ya, it is tame (but certainly powerful) compared to Dali's Premonition of Civil War....

                                    

All in one day, all in one place...both Dali AND Picasso...master works of each?  Madrid is a wonderful city!!

Then we had the pleasure of discovering---for us it was a discovery, for Art Historians not so much---Juaquin' Sorolla and his home which has been converted into a lovely jewel box of a museum, also in the heart of Madrid, away from the Museum District.  Sorolla combined the artistic aesthetic with a profound home life which informed his work, his studio and his vision.  Whether it was the lovely, sunny day or the relief from assaulting images or the delicious garden or the adventure of finding a new place in a big city, it was a perfect Sunday afternoon.

THE ARTISANS

We decided long ago to stop buying touristy crap...I have no room for it in my house and it gets stuck in a corner and gathers dust only to end in the trash in a year or two.  Instead, we search for local artists and artisans whose work is specific to the place and we can either use or look at regularly, i.e. we bought hand-painted Cypriot bowls in which we serve ice cream and we hand-knitted sweaters in Ireland to wear on cold, cold days.

So, how excited was I to see a sign, "Milliner," in Kilkenny, Ireland, right across the street from the castle.  (We like castles in my family and stop for every one we see!)  I've never visited a real, live Milliner before.  Rebekah Patterson makes hats- yes, she makes hats.  Who makes hats these days?  Many of them are works of art, spun sugar and lace and feathers and yes, I was seduced.  I bought one of her hats.  She is a charming, warm Irish woman dedicated to her craft, bringing fantasy and frivolity to your head!

   See the sign?? The hat?   It's a sculpture--we thought of displaying it on a pedestal.

                                                                                                          Cute hats, huh??

 

You can find more of Rebekah's work at www.designofthetimes.ie/rebekahpatterson.php

or The Wishing Bone Gallery, Kilkenny, Ireland

Add together an English ex-pat, a Laguna Beach-type village, the wild, untamed Atlantic off the shores of Connemara, Ireland, and you've got...Art, fused glass art.  The Connemara Blue Gallery, run by Ben Cross, who, by the way, is on his 3rd or 4th career, found something that fed his passions--the beauty of Ireland, the inspiration of Miro', and firing glass.  An intimate gallery that features his glass creations and textiles made by his wife, The Connemara Blue Gallery offers the visitor unique, one-of-a-kind pieces.  Yeah, we've got several small ones--we were, unfortunately, guided by flight restrictions.

 

You can find out more about The Connemara Blue Gallery and Ben Cross at

info@connemarablue.com

 

 

And now to the artist/artisan closest to my heart, my husband.  Gary attended the United Makeup Artists Expo in London the first week of April where he was demonstrating a new piece.  Weeks, he (and consequently me), spent weeks prepping for this convention.  First the design phase, the trial phase, the finishing phase, the test phase....getting the model phase, putting the makeup on, taking it off (not an easy phase), and what about the costume phase?  Gary was working without most of his supplies (because they're in California), so it was "MacGyver Time," finding creative ways to make non-theatrical makeup things work on prosthetic/silicone pieces.  The piece?  A Lizard Woman.  The concept?  Melding beauty makeup with creature makeup to create a new being.

I am unspeakably proud of Gary's work...he has the courage to know when his work is not perfect and the strength of conviction to commit to redoing it until it meets his standards.   His new-found humility provided him opportunities, opportunities that allowed him to see the makeup artist he wants to be, and the strength to explore that heady realm.



Art and Artists fed our souls this last month.  We looked into the heart of beauty and rage and love, we saw the worlds of family and nature through new eyes, the creative spirit sparked discussion and envy and insight.  We are fuller and richer for it.
 

THE YIN AND YANG OF IT ALL

                                                                     

 

I don't know why

I should know better

I've plenty of life experience to teach me...

and yet,

I am continually surprised by life in Italy.....



 

                                                                    THE POLE

See that pole across the road??  that's our telephone pole, yep,
the one that connects our land line and internet services...
OH...the ROAD?  it's a public road and our egress...

Soooo, two weeks ago we noticed a pole had fallen across the road--with lots and lots of wires entwined not only with each other but also the branches of the trees--wires cascading all the way down the hill.  So we called TeleCom Italia, the company that handles most of the fixed lines in Italy.  It was a Thursday...well, sir, it is Thursday, it'll be hard to get someone out before next week, Monday or Tuesday.  Monday comes, Tuesday follows, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday inevitably arrive, and you got it, no TeleCom Italia.  And the pole just hangs there...

 

                                       

 

 

 Yowee, look at those wires...inspires confidence, huh?

  Luckily, they're phone lines, not electrical wires and,

    miraculously, our phone and internet work!




 If you look veeeery carefully, you'll see the cable amongst the branches...it's been there so long it looks like a branch!    >>>>




Two weeks have come and gone; several calls have been made
to TeleCom and they've promised to send someone out; we keep our fingers crossed the phone and internet continue to work; and life goes on...except for one LITTLE THING...

                                       Someone--a neighbor? TeleCom under cover of night? A wild boar?--
                                       has moved the pole to the right of the road to make our egress
                                       easier, if only we could drive UNDER the OVERHANGING WIRES!

Tomorrow it will have been 3 weeks since "the fall"...and the pole remains fallen.  So, we wait, and we call, and we wait, and....

THE PAEAN

 

 Is it appropriate to tip the shampoo girl?  Is it appropriate to tip at all?  Why is there so much graffiti on national treasures in this country?  (So many of the ruins are covered with it while remaining exposed to the elements--both natural and human.)  And, why is it Italians are fanatically fastidious about keeping their homes spotless, while trash overflows in the streets?  Or...when people, Italians, learn we are American, do they automatically assume we're "spoiled, rich snobs?"

I've been on the "other side" of the desk this last month and I've had several "I could have had a V-8" moments. I needed a place to ask the above questions without fear of insult or judgment, secure in the knowledge of receiving an honest answer.  And there is the heart of education....for when all is said and done, I trust Letizia, our Italian teacher, to be candid and tactful and forthright.  She answers my questions, provides information, directs my learning, excites my curiosity, challenges me.  True education goes beyond the subject matter, supplying the larger context and widening horizons.  (What a joy to have this opportunity!)

So here is my paean to all the teachers in my life.  The "ah-ha moment," the contagious excitement, the ignition of an idea are the fuel with which you help your students learn.  You have provided a safe haven, a larger world view, a kind word, a simple gesture, and a lifetime of experience to help guide your students.  Thank you.
 
Teaching is an honorable profession; I am proud to have been a part of it and to know so many dedicated professionals.

This is where it all begins...an empty, non-descript
room at  the Accademia Italiana in Ascoli Piceno
...a table, chairs, a white board, what more
would you want??? (or need?)




Add books, a teacher, a student or two,

Letizia and Gary
 studying the subjunctive.

some homework, and the non-descript
place fills with focus and dedication...


and our lives are richer for it.







            The challenges and the rewards continue.

 

 







 





JUMBLED IMPRESSIONS, or re-entry into Italian Life

A COUNTRY WITHOUT...

Making idle chit chat while waiting for the teller, I said to our commercialista, accountant, "so, what about those elections, huh??"  His response?  "We're a country without a President and without a Pope.*  All is chaos!"  And he continued to figuratively pull out his hair.

1 out of 3 Italians voted for Berlusconi...yep, that's correct.  Mr. Bunga Bunga Party Man received 33% of the vote.  And yet, when you ask people if they voted for Mr. BBPM, to a person they say, "Nooooooo."  Go figure.  It was the other people who voted for him. 

It's fascinating watching the political process here--from the outside looking in.  And the people are confused and mad and scared, except my cousin who says, "it'll pass."  Yeah, but what about....  "It'll pass."  No really, there's no leadership or ....  "It'll pass."  What about unemployment or the EU or Italy's standing in the world.... "It'll pass."  Okey dokey.

"NOTHING SUCCEEDS LIKE EXCESS"  thank you, Julian Fellowes of Downton Abby fame

Everything is big and colorful and over-the-top in California.  Malls, cars, freeways, parking lots, grocery stores--we all know we need the choice of 20 cereals or 30 different soups; it's in our genes.

One aisle at Stater Brothers--ONE AISLE--hear the musak??





Italy is a small country, so things tend to be proportional to their environment.  Butcher shops, bakeries, grocery stores, restaurants....it's charming and cozy to go to a neighborhood restaurant that has 7 tables.  And one of those is "our table."  However, we've found the perfect California gym in Le Marche, Q-bo.

Spinning Classes
are offered in the pool

           Sooo, the gym has a pool and group            

A Biiiiig Window looks into the pool
and there are always people with
their noses pressed against it to get the
full benefit of --"the pool"

           classes and a bar and a restaurant and  a hairdresser and massage therapists and manicures and pedicures and a nutritionist, and, my favorite, Cosmetic Surgeons.  Yes indeedy, when that chin juts out too far or the buttocks need lifting or the breasts need implanting, the gym offers you a special place to go!

Q-bo is a little bit of home--a little excess never hurt anyone.

If they had beds, we'd move in!


HUMILITY and HUBRIS

I don't fear many things---except maybe spiders, scorpions, driving in the snow and ice, living in a  cold house, losing Gary---but mostly, I don't fear many things.

So I happily walk into the grocery store and have a conversation with the butcher about how to cook bull testicles, excitedly talk with the owner of the tappezzeria about recovering my couch, superficially discuss the fine art of opening my chakras with my yoga instructor, and communicate my desire to install a new shower with the plumber.

BUT we need to speak better Italian.  We need to get out of our comfort zone, go beyond restaurant, functional Italian.  So, we take intensive Italian lessons.  We're committed.  We study.  We discuss and argue the fine points of grammar, (sounds like a fun time at my house, huh?), practice verb drills, live with the dictionary, study the culture.  And we are brilliant in the car and in the shower.

But here's the kicker, when I need to incorporate the lessons into daily communication, I think, I search, I stammer, and then...no one gives a crap.  It is a lesson in Humility.

I have spent my professional and personal life communicating--with students, colleagues, actors, designers, friends, family.  Word choice which clearly and succinctly delineates an idea is one way I define myself.  OUCH....to have to fight for that with a 9th grade vocabulary is...painful, humiliating, and a CHALLENGE.  I will not be beat by the subjunctive.  It will kick my ass, but I will master it.

No, I don't fear many things, except maybe spiders and scorpions and the subjunctive. 

 

WHAT IS THIS??

WHAT IS THIS???  WHO IS THIS??  AND WHAT IS HE DOING???

Look Familiar?
"I am NOT a Crook," Sylvio Berlusconi said
as he was nominated for Prime Minister of Italy...AGAIN.

Seriously? The Bunga-Bunga Parties and the lawsuits and the accusations of inappropriate business dealings and...and... and...how is this possible? Every Italian I talk with says this is a sham, a joke---but 1000s of people showed up at the PDL party nominating event last week.   Seriously?? Italy's not in enough trouble economically? Now to put this buffoon back in the public eye, on the world stage to represent this country in crisis?

People are suffering. Businesses are closing. The youth can't find work. Tourism is down. The retirement age has been raised to 67. Pensions have been cut. But Berlusconi has persevered...Why???

Austerity measures are in place--one, very Italian--the "bridge holidays" have been
cut--(Wednesday holiday, the bridge holidays are Monday and Tuesday). Property taxes have been raised--however, to assess the taxes one owes, one must go to a Commercialista to ascertain the tax. ( Our Commercialista charged us 2000 euro to determine that we owe...100 euro.)   One does not receive a tax bill in the mail; one is expected to show up at the Post Office or Bank and pay. Many Italians aren't going to go to that trouble.   Hmmm, how 'bout assessing taxes and mailing the bills to the house?

On a more interesting and/or entertaining note!  WHAT IS THIS THING??

  I'll give you $1 if you can find out what these things are....I've asked the locals and they are vague (maybe it's my understanding that is vague...) but they are the oddest things and have been in the fields during Spring and Summer.

                                   WHO IS THIS?

Dr. Mazzone, hand surgeon,
"You're golden!  You can't expect better healing than this
after 35 days."

6:30 on a Friday evening, Dr. Mazzone spent 40 minutes with me--assessing my poor ole finger and assuaging my fears.  A consummate professional, he understands the inner workings of the hand as well as my insecurities.  I left feeling relieved and confident as I prepared for 10 sessions of physical therapy.  (100 euros)

                          AND THIS IS...?

Stefano Venturini, Physical Therapist
that's my finger he's bending and twisting
and scrunching--you can't see my tears. 

Amid quotes from Dante, information on the Mafia,  Italian colloquialisms, and film talk, Stefano made me work my finger.  After 10 sessions, I can make a fist--not a tight one, yet--but a fist!  He understands the workings of the hand and was able to analyze the problem and work toward solving it...the sessions were entertaining and productive.  I'm gonna take that fist and do something useful with it!  (100 euros)

I have nothing but praise for the Italian (and Spanish and French) health systems.  I was well-treated, respected, cared for, and ultimately, healed--for very little money and a great deal of attention and care...what more can anyone ask of a Health Care System??  Fingers crossed ours becomes as good.


WHAT IS THIS BEAUTIFUL THING?

Our aperitivi on the main piazza in
Ascoli Piceno--it's a tough life,
but someone's gotta do it!

Lazy Friday afternoon, lazy evening ahead, Russian singers and dancers to perform in an hour...what else to do than sit, have some wine, people watch, and enjoy the local color?

WHAAAAT????
Straddling two continents comes with its burdens...while we have another 3 weeks here, we feel like we're winding down, finishing one phase and gearing up for the fast-paced SoCal life.  We are embracing each and every moment, relishing the country and the people and the sights; but beneath it all is the ever-present, "do I need to pack my down coat or should I leave it here?"  "Should we have the pellet stove cleaned now?  Or wait until next year?  When will we be back?  Will we need it 24 hours a day upon our return?"  "What shall we do about renewing our permessi di soggiorno?"

But if I take a minute to stop and think and relive the highlights of our time here, the one thing that stands out is the people, our visitors and new friends.  We've had some great adventures and wonderful visits...soooo, beneath is a link to some pictures of THE PEOPLE AND ADVENTURES: February, 2012-August, 2012.  If you're interested, give it a click.  (Once you arrive at the pix, on the top left there's an option for Slideshow--If I were you, I'd hit that button (slideshow) to move it along, ...but if you want to linger on each and every picture, my pleasure!)

https://picasaweb.google.com/114517299259040603283/ThePeopleAndAdventuresFebruary2012August2012?authuser=0&authkey=Gv1sRgCPmU58exo9DxyQE&feat=directlink

Phew!  So much to say, so many things to do, so many people to meet and new places to visit, and old friends to cherish...I am thankful I am able to share it all with you!

TRAVELLING IS...OTHER PEOPLE (Part #2)

A paean to Travelling Companions, Chance Encounters, and the Kindness of Strangers. 

Part 2:  Chance Encounters and the Kindness of Strangers

I lie splayed in the dust in Plaza de America in Seville, taking inventory---legs-okay; head-no bumps, but the helmet is 3 feet away; bike-flattened on the ground next to me; ahhh, finger-some blood, swollen to three times its normal size, can't move it.  "Call an ambulance, please, my finger is broken." 

With great courtesy and concern, our guide, Niek, said, "uhhh, they don't send ambulances for fingers."

Thus began my foray into the Spanish, French, and Italian medical systems.

We left Gary with the bikes: Niek speaks Spanish, so I needed him to translate for me in the emergency room.  I had my Blue Cross and Blue Shield cards tightly clutched in my hand, knowing I was covered!!  The receptionist smiled, returned my cards, and told Niek, "We don't take those insurances."  "How 'bout VISA?"  "Certainly."  I was covered!

Cutting off my wedding ring was the first trauma...Niek kept patting my shoulder and saying, "Think of Italy.  Think of wine.  Think of a pretty place. Think of your favorite music."  All-the-while the medics needed larger and heavier metal cutters....

Xrays, consult--it's dislocated, not broken--, treatment--anesthesize the finger and pop that puppy back into place.

Dr. Jesus Cabezon Mariscal administered the anesthesia shot...I had Gary by the one hand that worked, the doctor had the other, massaging my dislocated finger...."la, la, la, la," my atonal, repetative distraction from the pain filled the exam room, "la, la, la, la, la," and then, as if rehearsed, Dr. Mariscal joined my chorus, "la, la, la, la, la," two-part disharmony.  It was the kindest most humane gesture I've ever experienced in the ER.

Finger wrapped, huuuuge, white bandage covered my hand to the wrist....very dramatic.  Not too painful, yet. 

an hour after the "incident"...
do ya think the bandage pulls any focus??

211 euros later, I was on my way to the pharmacy---did you register that?  211 euros, which translates to about $250...without insurance coverage.

Niek and his employers, Christobal and Sofia, stayed with us for the duration--making sure we were cared for and communicating.  Later that evening, we met Niek and his girlfriend, Sanna, for drinks--one must dull the pain with whatever means are available.

Niek with me and Gary
Not my best photo....but before any serious drinking

In France, friend Lynne took me to her doctor, Dr. Galfard in the Village of Banon.  No appointment necessary: just show up, sit in the waiting room, when you're next, he'll come and get you---he'll come and get you---no receptionist, no paperwork, just show up.  He was kind and efficient and funny--it takes talent to be funny with someone in another language.  I needed the laughs.  He took a look, said things were fine, rewrapped the hand, and charged me 23 euro--that was 23 euro!

I thought it important to establish a relationship with a local doctor, so off I went to find an English-speaking one here in our town--easier said than done.  I called Dr. Siliquini to make an appointment--he answers his own phone--he said to come on in.  And no, he doesn't speak English; he reads it very well, but speak, uhh, no.  His office is in the basement of the hospital, so the waiting room is a long, impersonal corridor with chairs lined up against the wall, filled with people.  Hard to determine the procedure---when his office was empty, I tentatively knocked on the door and walked in.  We amused him fumbling through the labyrinth of medical jargon in a foreign tongue; he was also patient and caring and thorough, AND, I have confidence in him.  He looked at my hand, took an ultrasound, gave me a prescription and an X-ray, and refused to take any money---let me repeat that, he refused to take any money.  There was a 24 euro charge for the X-ray.

My new Doctor, Dr. Siliquini, examining my finger--
or proposing?

The verdict is still out on the finger---is there tendon damage?  We don't know yet.  Will I have to have surgery?  If there is tendon damage.  If I need surgery, will I want to have it here, or in California?  Don't know.  Can it wait for 2 months until we get back to CA?  Don't know.  In the meantime, it moves more and more each day, certainly a good sign.

BUT, most importantly, I didn't go through this alone...my Gary has and will be here for every step, and Niek and Christobal and Sofia and Doctors Mariscal, Galfard, Siliquini, and our Travelling Companions (see Part 1) stepped up, unbidden, to offer support and succor.  It's scary being in a foreign country physically vulnerable, luckily, I didn't have to do it alone.

I CANNOT go another minute without extolling the virtues of socialized medicine...if I was a visitor in the States, the emergency room alone would have cost thousands of dollars.  It is an inalienable human right to have medical care, to have access to medications and doctors, to be treated for our ailments and still be able to put food on the table.  Why are people so opposed to Obama's Health Care reform?  I don't get it....Okay, I've stepped off the soapbox.

....but another issue has raised its ugly head--CHRONIC PAIN--(I have had it to one degree or another since my fall, and I have new-found respect and compassion for others.)  I have friends who suffer constantly from one thing or another, bad back, poor feet, migrain headaches.  And they suffer in silence.  Each and every day they experience incapacitating pain, and still face the day, live moment-to-moment, read books and cook dinners, play tennis, and go to work.  I don't know how they do it.  It takes a special kind of courage and a strong desire to embrace life.  I applaud you all.

So my adventure in Seville has enriched my life with people, renewed my faith in humanity, increased my awareness of pain, reenforced my support of Health Care reform, made me more sensitive to others.  Geez, would it have been easier to take a sensitivity class??

pre-fall...the big orange butt on the right belongs to me!
Plaza de Espana ahead

TRAVELLING IS...OTHER PEOPLE (Part #1)

A paean to Travelling Companions, Chance Encounters, and the Kindness of Strangers.

Part #1:  Travelling Companions

The oh-so-familiar sight of travellers searching....

Do you know what a Rosarian is?  According to Dictionary.com, a Rosarian is a person who is fond of, develops, or cultivates roses.  Better question:  do you know any??  I recently met Linda, a rosarian, who put a whole different spin on "looking at gardens!" The Alhambra in Granada and The Alcazar in Seville were richer for the sharing.  Travelling with her sister, Gloria, the "Sisters" graciously allowed us to crash the Seville-Granada leg of their Spanish vacation.  It was joyful watching "The Sisters" interact, finish sentences, set priorities, respect each others needs and wants---all-the-while soaking up the Spanish culture and food and art and sharing their knowledge with us!

Me and The Sisters, Gloria and Linda

Do you have any friends whom you've known for decades and still like??  The Kathys taught in Spain oh-so-many years ago and brought their intimate familiarity of the language and the culture to the Granada leg of the trip--now, if you're one for math, you've figured out there are now 5 women and my husband, who adores women.  But noooo, there was yet one more woman, Rita, who has a long history with one of the Kathys....now the numbers are correct; 6 women and my guy.  (He felt like he was with his very own harem when we cruised the Granada tapas bars, basking in all that estrogen--baby-oh-baby-oh!)  But, back to the Kathys...these ladies are vastly different, yet their history ties them to memories and each other, with mutual respect and similar tastes.  The Ks were always open to an adventure or a drink, remaining easy-going and generous in their interactions.

Tapas Crawl, Granada, the Kathys...
notice the empty Sangria pitcher on the table??

The Italians call it chiacchiere, chatter.  And chatter we did, from the moment Lynne picked us up at the airport to the moment she dropped us off...the year we've been apart melts away in an instant.  What a comfortable, familiar, loving welcome and visit we had...How lucky are we??  And then, there is her cooking!!!  Her duck--yow--we counted that meal as one of the best of the trip!!  Lynne is a generous and gracious hostess...we reconnect through our history-and her food-while making new memories.  Ahhh, France!

Lynne with Rags and her cook books!

We see them 3-4 times a year, either in one side of the world or the other, finding solace and comfort and lots of advice.  John and Angela have bought in Italy also and have many of the same frustrations and joys we experience---it's like coming home when we see them.  We share a shorthand, an understanding of this culture and its idiosyncracies, our struggles and successes.  There aren't many people who have this shared experience--it helps to just talk and vent and laugh and ask again and again...did we do the right thing?  Would we do it again??  Will we still be here in 10 years??  That, coupled with great wine ( I mean, Barolo and and Barbera are born in Piemonte!), excellent food, beautiful scenery, some serious laughs, made for a delightful end of our little giro.

some delightful ends....

I have always contended that a trip isn't about a place or a church or a monument, but about the people that populate said place or church or monument....we were privileged to share our trip with some pretty great people, enriching even further a very rich life!  Thank you!

Okey dokey, I wanted to move on to Chance Encounters and The Kindness of Strangers, but I'm leaving that for Volume #2....

...AND THE TOADS WALKED IN THE FRONT DOOR

The Toads:

Filippo, poet, actor, friend, walked in my front door followed by a tall, lanky guy I didn't know.  It seems Stefan, the tall, lanky guy, was looking for toads---that's right, big, brown, squishy-looking toads---if you weren't looking for them and they weren't moving, they'd look like a pile of dog pooh.  Enough of an image for ya??

Stefan is a documentary filmmaker who was scouting locations for his next documentary about Volcanoes, Earthquakes, Storms and the ecosystems related to and interrelated with them.  It seems when the earthquake occurred in L'Aquila, November, 2009, all the toads left the area.  When we asked, "Why?" Stefan answered, "as far as we can tell, the increased electrical current drove the toads out of the water and away."  Once the earthquake and aftershocks were over, the toads returned.  And it seems we have the privilege of having the same kind of toads in our lake!!  Who knew??  So with a scientist in tow, Stefan was going to do a two-day shoot of our toads! 

We spent a lovely hour talking of documentary filmmaking, toads, directing and Stefan's background.  He began as a dancer in Paris, evolved into a choreographer, wanted a larger canvas which took him to film.  Then, he needed to make a living, so he learned how to edit film, both manually and digitally, which led to directing.  He now is working for a film company directing and writing documentaries, while writing and directing films of interest for himself.  Ahh, the life of an independent filmmaker!!   

We thought the evening held some wine, a little food, an intimate conversation with Germana and Filippo...instead, we had an evening of discovery and exchanges in French, Italian and English accompanied by movie promos and promises of dinner next week.  We have since seen Stefan twice, briefly, cuz he is working ya know, but we've got dvds of his work and his career to follow.

If we hadn't opened the door....


LTS, or Loren of the Train Station:

We were on our way to Bologna by train to catch the flight to Cyprus.  The train was in retardo by 50 minutes or so, not unusual by Italian standards, so we entertained ourselves by walking up and down the train tracks looking at people.  There are mostly Italians in our area, so we were surprised when a young woman--looking very Italian, I might add--asked us in English where we were from.  Loren is from Manhattan, living with an Italian family for three months, teaching the kids English. 

That's as far as it went when the train arrived....but I couldn't get her out of my head.  What if she needed an American contact while here in Porto San Giorgio?  What if something happened and she needed someone to intercede or help or stand up for her??  so I traversed the train and gave her our Calling Card (how very Victorian of us, huh?)  That way she'd have our contact information in case she needed it. 

LTS, a strong, independent, young woman, got in touch.  We've had the pleasure of dinner with her several times, we met her parents, lovely people, and we've kept in email contact.  LTS doesn't need us to intercede or help or stand up for her, she needed another set of American ears and eyes to help decipher this culture, to bounce ideas off of, to just talk.  We had great fun; she's entertaining and bright and articulate with lots of life experiences and huge decisions in her future.  How lucky are we to be a little part of that???

If I hadn't taken our Calling Card to the other end of the train....

Life on the Edge, or, Beyond my Comfort Zone:

The eight months we spent here last year were probably the lonliest 8 months of my life....I had my Gary, of course, but I contend one person alone can never fulfill all the needs of another.  I need other people, lots of other people, in my life.  I need exchanges that challenge, that titillate, that inform, that engross....the only way to ensure that is to put myself out there.

So, although I am fundamentally shy (because I hate  rejection), I have girded my loins and stuck out my hand, handed out my card, began a conversation, asked a question...and I have been rewarded.  By Katerina with whom I go to yoga and talk about art, by Gaye who shares my love for literature, by Elaine who is forthright and honest, by David and Lisa who open their home and hearts and love for Le Marche and share with us, by Luciana who stops and talks with me, no matter how busy she is, by Ian who is unravelling the mysteries of Tai Chi for us....

By Lynne and Germana and Sherri and Curly and Natan and Dicky and Federico and Anna Maria and John and Angela....

The toads (those lovely, lovely toads) come to the door, right up to the front door, and I have chosen to open it and let them in.