Rain, by Hone Tuwhare

I love rain.  The heavy stuff ...the kind that used pound down on the iron roof back when I lived in Te Anau.  That small town located in Fiordland, a region of mountains, massive lakes ... a national park that is 1,260,740 hectares in size.

Heavy rain on a gloomy Sunday can actually rescue a Sunday.  It's when the day crosses over from 'lifeless and dull' into cosy and delicious', somehow. 

Real rain is joy-filled.  Drizzle is drab.  The stillness of a grey day, energy-sapping.

I took rain forgranted in New Zealand.  It simply was.  I realised I missed it in Istanbul.  My apartment was 5th floor and the closest I got to hearing the glorious sound of heavy rain on the roof was when the rain angled in and hit the big useless metal air-conditioning unit attached outside my apartment.

Belgium doesn't really do torrential ... although these last two years there have been downpours that have caused cellars to flood, due mainly to the problem of a massively concreted landscape that lacks drainage capabilities.  Te Anau was built on glacial moraine.  Rainfall is massive, drainage is fast.

Genova does rain that makes my heart sing although there have been some tragedies in recent years.  I think it used to be October for the real downpours but these years seem less certain, less defined.  Change is afoot.

I was caught in a Genovese deluge one night.  Unbelievable rain ... like a huge bucket of water pouring down from the heavens and it was so unexpected, so crazy, that I ended up laughing out loud as one of the umbrella-selling guys from Pakistan offered to sell me an umbrella.  It was beyond umbrellas.

What was it about that experience that made joy well up like a bubble.  I have no idea but we were laughing like fools in the impossible rain. 

Anyway, favourite poem ever ... just about.

I can hear you making
small holes in the silence
rain

If I were deaf
the pores of my skin
would open to you
and shut

And I should know you
by the lick of you
if I were blind:

the steady drum-roll
sound you make
when the wind drops

the something
special smell of you
when the sun cakes
the ground

But if I should not
hear
smell or feel or see you

You would still
define me
disperse me
wash over me
rain

The image that follows ... I took it on the east coast of the South Island of New Zealand last year.  I'm looking down on Tautuku Bay, scene of more than a few school camps.  The rain there was flavoured by the sea and the beech forests.  Sweeter rain you couldn't know ... except in Fiordland ... or traveling up the West Coast of the South Island.

Actually, scratch that.  Rain in New Zealand's wilderness areas is usually sweet.  I was rapt to see some of these favourite places in rain when I was showing the Belgian bloke home.  There are places I just don't want to see blue skies and sunshine in ... it's like that.

Friends Around the World.

I just had a rather special experience, one that couldn't have happened without Facebook ... that social forum I'm not always convinced about.

It was my birthday on Tuesday 22 October and while we were still back in the evening of 21 October, 11 hours behind New Zealand, friends there woke up there and began wishing me a happy birthday via Facebook.

It was lovely.

Midnight my time, rolling over into the European 22nd October and up popped birthday wishes from this side of the world.  And in the morning I woke to some more beautiful wishes and emails came rolling in too.  I was feeling pretty special by now.  Bemused by the role Facebook was playing but special anyway.

And it occured to me as American friends woke that these greetings rolling in from various time zones seemed like one of those great big Mexican Waves you sometimes see in stadiums at sporting events.  The Americans arrived in the afternoon of the 22nd, some 6 hours behind Europe.

And on it went.  There were photographs sometimes ... and so many smiles were inspired by these people I love and adore, all over the world.

The photograph below ... there's a story.  I met Jason in Istanbul.  He was my colleague in both private schools we worked at there.  He became honorary family and I adored his beautiful soon-to-be wife, Beste. 

They took me home to her parents and sister ... a family to surely adore.  I loved the times I was invited home to the Asian-side of Istanbul city.  And Beste's parents insisted on meeting Gert before he was allowed to take me away to Belgium, standing in for my absent parents, making sure that Belgian bloke was okay.

But the story didn't end there.  I met Jim, Jason's old history teacher, when he came to Istanbul.  We struck up a friendship that continues to this day.  He's a much-loved facebook friend of mine too.

Then came Cloe.  Cloe was moving to Belgium.  She was an ex-girlfriend of Jason's and had worked with Jim on a political campaign.  Both Jason and Jim wrote to her and I, telling us of one another and yes, we became friends ... as you do.

There are so many stories about how I met those friends I have over on Facebook.  It's not about numbers, it's about staying in touch when you're 16,000+ kms from home, when you're a woman who moves countries, when you simply enjoy talking with people.

But imagine, there were over 100 messages that rolled in over 36 hours and the photograph below is just one of those that made my soul feel like it was full to overflowing with the pleasure that comes from knowing some really excellent people.

And yes, I did ask permission to post.  You can see why I love them.

The Anticipatory Sparkle, Pre-Shakespeare and Company Bookshop Visit

Awake ...1.29 am in Italy

I did the crime ... an Italian espresso at 5pm in Venice.   And although it was in celebration of finding our way out of the maze that is Venice, it seems I must do the time.  It's 1.29am and I'm still awake.  Wide awake!

Today has been all about leaving Trieste, then impulsively stopping for an hour or two of wandering through Venice, and driving on afterwards, another million miles towards Milan then Lake Como.

An impulsive couple of hours in Venice that became 4 hours when we were lost for a while on our way out of that ancient city. 

And Venice ...!!!  I'm not even sure how to write up the experience.  Not yet.  But tonight, once we found our way to Bellano, Italy, there was this dinner consisting of this divine smokey cheese, provided by our lovely Air B&B hostess, and a bottle of Italian red wine we had been carrying since Budapest.

Julie made herself pasta but it felt too late for me to be eating something so serious and anyway, I was still recovering from The Most Delicious pasta dinner I had ever tasted ... the previous evening, back in Trieste.  Something to do with mushrooms, a cream sauce, and pasta at Al Barattolo.

If you find yourself in Trieste, I can only tell you that you must eat at Al Barattolo because the food is divine. The house red wine is also delicious but that's a whole other story.

That said, tonight's pasta did inspire Julie to write up a blogpost about our roadtrip so far.  But our journey is almost done and tomorrow we're off to the airport.  I'm heading back to Antwerp while she's continuing on her long journey home, with Athens as her next destination.  

I will miss that cousin of mine after almost 2 months of living and traveling together.  We do have the most excellent adventures though.  Always.  Last time we wandered all over England, wondering about speed limits and road rules as we went, occasionally phoning home to seek wise counsel on these serious matters.

We drank wine with mercenaries on that journey.  I actually went through a stage where I met 3 different groups of them socially ... by chance and yes, I found it bizarre.  We also managed to accidentally walked out of a cafe without paying, realised, then found a branch of the same chain in another town over there, confessed, felt the love ... well actually, their surprise that we were so honest.  I think they might have been stunned but anyway, they'd written it off, much to our relief.  And so much more.  It's never sedate when we get together.

Anyway ... tonight finds us in a lovely Air B&B in Bellano in Italy.  It seems to be located on one of the arms of Lake Como, not Como itself though.  Everything we've viewed online tells us it's lovely however ...spending time lost in Venice complicated our arrival here and made us some hours late, in fact, after darkness had fallen.

The light was fading fast when we began driving the 50 minutes alongside Lake Como to Bellano.  Darkness AND there were masses of tunnels, some as much as 5kms long.  And while The Homer Tunnel experience in New Zealand last year, seems to have cured me of my previously intense dislike of tunnels, I wasn't the happiest creature when I realised we had driven an extra 16kms beyond our destination exit road, due to our troublesome GPS losing its satellite connection while in those very same very long tunnels.

But arriving here, meeting Laura - our lovely B&B hostess, settling in, drinking the last bottle of red wine Julie and I will share in a while ... somehow everything took on a rosy restropective glow and voila, we were happy again.

We are fortunate, it doesn't take much to right our sometimes wonky worlds.  Well ... I could have done without the whole 'sleepless in Bellano' thing but you wouldn't have this post and nor would you have this small glimpse of a scene I spotted in Venice.

In These Days ...

I've been wanting to swing by here and write of these crazy-beautiful days filled with old and new friends.  There was a house full of a guests, a party, a pre-opening visit to Antwerp's new Red Star Line Museum, and all kinds of other things too.

It all began on the weekend before last really.  There was a family photo-shoot in the park, with a few of the results in the posts that follow this one.   Dimitris and Donal called over too ... gifting us an exquisite Greek white wine and the very finest Greek λουκούμι or loukoumi.  We have all been enjoying dipping into that box on a daily basis.

Friday was the day it was all happened.  Julie and Sara jetted in from Lisbon in Portugal, while Shannon and Erik rode over from Holland on 'the bike'.  Old friends, family, and new friends ... our house was full and overflowing with laughter, wine and much conversation.

Saturday was all about last minute prep for a small party but after a visit to my favourite Spanish wine shop, we ended up having a vertical tasting of what might my most loved red wine so far - a Valduero Crianza from Ribera Del Duero.  Divine it was and Sara gifted us all a 2004, 2005 and 2009, and photographed the tasting too.

The party was fun.  I was disorganised and it was all about 'last minute' but never mind.  There were more than 15 of us in the end and, as always, conversation and laughter ruled the hours we were all together.

Sunday and Gert and I were out the door, having accepted our pre-opening invitation to wander through the Red Star Line Museum.  I think that anyone coming to Antwerp should take the time to visit this superb museum.  I moved between tears caught in the back of my throat somwhere and a strange anger.  It is a superb museum, one that captures the stories of those Red Star Line European immigrants so beautifully.  The anger was born out of the knowledge that politicians, the world around, spend so much time trying to stop people moving and make 'their citizens' fearful of this very human action.

Freedom of movement ... immigration, whatever, is a necessary part of being human.  People have moved since the beginning of time.  The story of it all unfolds so convincingly there in that impressive museum.

Ludo Van Campenhout is the Belgian politician who fought hard for this museum, working constantly towards it over the years, and he deserves so much praise now that all he imagined, and more, has come to pass.

But then Sara returned to Paris, and Shannon and Erik rode off at the end of the day.  Julie stayed though and we have all kinds of adventures planned for the days and weeks ahead.  It's so good to have family here for a while.  All of us kiwis here in the house are enjoying her presence.

And I fly again soon ... as Julie's traveling companion.  Back to Milan but, for first time ever, I won't be stopping in Genova.  We're heading for Verona, Trieste, Senj, Lake Bled, Budapest and Vienna. 

So yes ... let's see what stories unfold during those days on the road.

Amedeo Baldovino, Artist

I met Amedeo Baldovino a few years ago now ... I wrote of it here.

A few months ago, I received bad news.  He had collapsed in the city and was on life-support.  It didn't look good and I grieved for both the man and the talented artist.

Karla kept me informed.  He came through surgery, he was recovering ... it was so good to hear but this morning, out picking up breakfast, I stopped to say hi to the artists in Via San Lorenzo. 

Angelo gestured to the cafe, I walked in, and it was Amedeo!!!  Back painting, back in his weekend spot, BACK.

I didn't quite jump all over him like a happy puppy but I was so very very pleased to see him. 

That man ... he painted this painting as a gift to me. He painted me into Genova.  You can imagine how much I loved that.

Today I am celebrating Amedeo here on the blog.  Everyone should have some Amedeo hanging in their home.  If you think you would like to see some of his work, let me know, I'll go photograph some of the delights he has hanging and we'll work out the shipping costs. 

Back in Genova, and loving it, as always.

Ciao!