Buon Natale

Yesterday was the day I said goodbye to the artists on via S. Lorenzo.  They are only there at the weekends and I’ll be back in Belgium next weekend.

I was so surprised to hear them wish me Buon Natale as we said our goodbyes but of course, it’s almost Christmas, even if my New Zealand-orientated self doesn’t understand the possibility of Christmas in the dead of winter.

I was so very pleased to see Franco Fondacaro this time.  He is the guy in the photograph below, captured as he talked of his art with a client.  Not long after I left Genova last time, he was beaten up and robbed, early one morning while out walking his dog. 

Franco fought back.
Franco is 83, and completely adorable. Everyone was horrified that he had been attacked by the two guys.  He spent quite some time in hospital and is slowly recovering from a serious neck injury but stll, he is full of life and laughter.  It was good to see him.

Meanwhile, Shannon finished Amedeo’s new website and so, last night, Karla, Amedeo and I had a working/farewell dinner where I showed them how to operate the new site.  I think it’s a good idea that Amedeo’s latest work is always out there, especially now winter is coming.  Now I just need to work on the About text which is currently a direct translation of his Italian bio via google translate. 

We also spent time working out whether to move Karla’s website over to Blogger or some other space.  I think we will.  And some new business cards have been designed for both of them.  We had so much fun.  I’ll miss them.

I love it here.  I come alive in a way that I don’t think I am alive any place else.  It’s been difficult this time but the cough is almost gone.  I’m strong again, and walking all over the ancient heart of the city.  I was sitting on the stairs of San Lorenzo Cathedral earlier, close to my favourite lion sculpture, just watching the world go by while eating a slice of onion focaccia ... happy. 

Happy to be here, in this moment, in this place.
Buon Natale ...

Luciano Viotti, Painter

Luciano Viotti is another of the artists I enjoy down on Via San Lorenzo. 

He has a big soul and you see it in his work.  I loved this one yesterday, of the trams over in Milano. 

He explains that he has been painting for more than thirty years.  He began with realism, then pointillism but today finds him expressing himself in a personalized Impressionism.  I love it.  Karla insists that you can find the 1950s in his work but it’s something you would have to see for yourself.

You can find more of his work over on his website.

Amedeo Baldovino's Artwork

Today I was gifted a second beautiful painting ... painted just for me. 
Look closely, you’ll see.

I love this city. 
I love the people here, and already I’m thinking about the fact that it will be my suitcase rolling along the caruggi here in a few days.  I will take some exquisite memories when I leave ... as always.

Anyway, about the photograph of the painting below.  It was painted by one of my favourite artists in the world, Amedeo Baldovino.  You can read of my first meetings with him over here.

Tonight I had the pleasure of having dinner with both Amedeo and Karla. I do adore them.

Mille grazie, Amedeo!  I love the painting.  I love that in those Genovese cityscapes you paint, there is a space for this New Zealand photographer who is passionate about books.

Karla Verdugo, Artist

I met Karla Verdugo back in July, on my previous visit to Genova. 

Karla’s one of a group of artists who sell their artworks down on Via San Lorenzo, on Saturdays and Sundays.  I adore them.  They’re the loveliest people.  If passing, you really should stop and chat and consider their artworks.

Today Karla gifted me an early Christmas gift.  It was one of two paintings I wanted to buy from her and it’s going to make me smile everytime I look at it.  Not only because I love it and it’s a gift from a lovely friend but because I consumed a whole jar of honey on this visit. It was my drug of choice when it came to fighting this cold of mine. 

It shall be hung someplace close to my desk.
Grazie, Karla.

Yasmina Khadra ... aka Mohamed Moulessehoul, Writer

What to keep of all these reels of film, what to throw away? If we could only take 1 memory on our journey, what would we choose? At the expense of what or whom? And most importantly, how to choose among all these shadows, all these spectres, all these titans? Who are we, when all is said and done? Are we the people we once were or the people we wish we had been? Are we the pain we caused others or the pain we suffered at the hands of others? The encounters we missed or those fortuitous meetings that changed the course of our destiny? Our time behind the scenes that saved us form our vanity or the moment in the limelight that warmed us? We are all of these things, we are the whole life that we have lived, its highs and lows, its fortunes and its hardships, we are the sum of the ghosts that haunt us… we are a host of characters in one, so convincing in every role we played that it is impossible for us to tell who we really were, who we have become, who we will be.
― Yasmina Khadra, What the Day Owes the Night

Tonight, I had the pleasure of attending a talk given by Yasmina Khadra ... aka Mohamed Moulessehoul.

Mohamed was an officer in the Algerian army, a man who was forced to adopt a woman’s pseudonym to avoid military censorship as the writer he was. Despite the publication of many successful novels in Algeria, Moulessehoul only revealed his true identity in 2001 after leaving the army and going into exile and seclusion in France.

It was fascinating, despite being in French and Italian.  Sometimes that just leaves a person free to watch and examine body language and location, and the people around them.

It was held in Genova’s exquisite Palazzo Ducale ...

It was an enjoyable interlude.

And yes ... I regret not taking my camera but I was running late. 

My Friend, Judy

It has to be said, I have the loveliest friends ...

Today, Judy was coming to town.  We had plans, that changed, and were all the better for changing I’m thinking. 

We immediately wandered from the train station to Caffenation, for some really good coffee.  Much talking later, we left, heading for my most favourite bookshop in Belgium ... De Slegte, in Antwerpen.  We both love books.

Lunch, and Judy introduced me to a cafe she knew once.  It was lovely and I recommend it so highly ... Moments, on the Meir at number 47.  Second floor, for those like me who have never noticed it before.

We walked on, finding delicious boots at Torfs (that were not purchased), my new favourite shoe brand, also found on the Meir at number 14-16.  Then to the Grand Bazaar ... which is nothing like the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul but still, place of some favourite stores of mine. 

There, she bought me a birthday gift that made me smile.  I have never known anyone quite so convincing in the ... ‘well-it’s-better-if-you-choose-what-you-would-like-rather-than-me-guessing’ line of gift giving.  I do adore her.  And so, after quite some sweating, I chose a favourite author’s latest book.  I have all of Joe Simpson’s non-fiction and I have to confess, his work of fiction had me totally in its grip by the time I reached the supermarket, via the tram home.

Then, I took her to Lojola.  This youtube takes you to the cafe ...  it’s the cutest little cupcake and coffee or tea place in the city.

From there, after much laughter, we wandered back to the train station where ... after running for the wrong train, she decided to walk me to my tram, as she had time to spare.  The most commonly used sentence during the long walk to my tram was variations on ‘Yes Di, I can find my way back to my train, as I did Cuba alone’.  But there was so much more humour that doesn’t quite come through in that sentence.  Both Judy and I are terribly amusing.  Modest though.

So yes ... it was a magical day.  Unexpected really but all the more lovely for it.  As I write this, I’m listening to the Chan Chan Compay Segundo cd that she slipped into that birthday package for me. 

Dank u wel, Judy.  Today was truly delicious.