Me without my Amica

I had plans to write a series of articles called something grand like ,Travels with my Amica.(Amica means a female friend.) I was going to travel to lots little towns in the area in my little green car and then write about the journey there, and then, all about the place. As I am a little scared of driving it would have been an incentive to get better and try harder. But my little green car,( a piaggio amica) doesnt like hills , and as we live on the top of one , then that plan had to be cancelled.) (see the blog called the little car that wouldn't go)

So, with a certain amount of relief I decided I would just have to do it on my scooter. (only it was so unreliable that I was worried I would not get it started again if I stopped and going round exploring and trying to take photos from a scooter was not a great idea either.)

But this week I finally got my scooter repaired again and despite misgivings I set off for Bernalda.

To get to Bernalda from the house in the country I need to go down a really steep hill. ( the kind that makes your ears pop on the way up because of the altitude) I always test my brakes before I get to the hill. It's quite exciting going down. Steep and bendy and narrow. I have never tried to take my scooter up it as its only 50cc s and I don't think it would make it.

The views are lovely if brief as I don't want to plunge over the edge. I am looking over the basento valley and can see Bernalda on the other side. It only takes me about twenty minutes and I am driving into the old part (Centro Storico). This is not my first time so I know roughly where I am going. the first time I decided to follow a lemonade lorry which then meandered round lots of narrow streets till I was completely lost and I was obliged to keep following it until I found somewhere I knew.

So I drive up the one way cobbled street past a variety of types of houses, churches and even a few shops and park in the square with a large church opposite. (This is not a guided tour where I tell you the names of everything, because apart from not knowing them ,it's more about making you want to go there as it looks lovely and feels like another world where you are an explorer.)

I was probably the only explorer/tourist there at about 6.30 pm. There were hardly any people about, just some sitting on balconies or doorsteps enjoying the evening.

I particularly like the diversity of buildings. Looking along cobbled streets there are talls blocks with 3 stories and elaborate balconies, next to old buildings in need of restoration, next to restored houses. There are stairs at the front leading to doors on the first floor with pots of geraniums on each step. Some of the houses are white but as many are brick or stone. Little streets branch off from the main street , some with overhanging arches, others which have been beautifully restored with original archways and balconies and yet more where the stonework is crumbling but there are plants at the windows so someone lives there. I zig zagged about going down one street then another and then up another one that looked more interesting and then wandered on round the next bend. It was magical. Then I went round the back of the church and up another little street where the doors were painted red, then blue , then green. I could hear people inside but very few were in the streets.

I would have stayed longer only I felt a bit lonely(Which I needn't have if I had checked my emails before I left where there was a message arranging to meet.Putting smart phone which does emails on When I am rich I will get..... list)

So feeling in need of some retail therapy , and after taking a photo of my scooter to prove I was there I headed off for the chinese shop where you can buy everything. And on the way I saw a friend who kindly invited me for a coffee , which didn't stop me going for the retail therapy, but did make me feel a lot better.

And finally to yoga. Which was just delightful. We started with feet exercises (I dont't like my feet. they have been too big all of my life and I am fairly self conscious of them.) So there we are sitting there, a little bit of chatting going on as this is the start and it's nice. I have enjoyed this yoga class more than any other one I have attended. Then someone says something about my feet. I think they said I had beautiful feet. Then someone else asked what size they were. Perhaps long thin feet are ok here. Who knows! (Rather disconcertingly all evening afterwards my feet appeared to be growing longer and longer and when I caught a glimpse of them in the mirror they were weirdly long, until I noticed the join in the mirror was extending them.) As usual I fell asleep during the relaxation and then trying to pull myself out of a pleasant daze I got on my scooter to go home in the dark.

It takes twice as long to go home as I can't go up the steep hill , but now that my lights are fixed and I can see the road in front for more than a few yards, it was only mildly scary.

So I think all in all for my first trip without my amica it was a good experience.

ciao bella

(Some painting opportunities in Pisticci)

I just love being greeted , by "Ciao bella".

This morning as I was passing the olive mill at the end of the road on my scooter an older gentleman waved me down. I think he has a country house just there.

He came over, said, "Ciao bella" and kissed me on both cheeks, then asked if I remembered him, reminded me who he was , smiling continually, then shook my hand , said "Buona Giornata" ( have a good day) and went back to what he was working on. And I scootered on with a big smile. Who wouldn't be flattered to be called "bella".

What a lovely way to start my day. "Ciao bella" literally means "hi beautiful" and that's the translation I like.

It is a gorgeous day today and I am having a semi -holiday.

Last week I sold 7 paintings and a small sculpture and helped out at a conference in a local hotel over the weekend . Then I have guests coming to stay in my studio for 2 weeks from Friday so will be moving my things out and cleaning for the rest of the week.

So today I am pottering in Pisticci.

Have finally got the hang of the system at the doctors, so been and scootered up there and left details of a prescription I want. No longer do I sit there for 2 hours wondering what is going on . Now I only need to go back after a couple of hours, collect it and its done.

Then I need to go to the post office. Unfortunately the ticket machine is not working and the queue , such as it is, is just too difficult to negotiate so I go have a coffee and come back later. No point in fretting when it's an opportunity for coffee.

When the sun shines like today the streets are so pretty. The pavements in some streets are tiled and they sparkle in the sun. Decide I must bring my camera next time and then stop in at the farmacia.

I don't really want to go back to the studio because its so nice wandering about and then I meet someone who wants me to paint a portrait of a relative and I am reminded that for me , a big part of marketing is just being out and about.

I am so curious about all the people living in these narrow streets. Sometimes I get a glimpse inside and see that there are only stairs leading to an upper floor , sometimes its a little one room house or a workshop, or maybe the kitchen only is on the ground floor and the signora of the house is fit because there are three or four floors in the house but only one room on each.

Been thinking that although I am not an art teacher I could certainly offer accommodation, materials and a tour of limitless painting opportunities. Busy day dreaming about this and how I find the right words to encourage everyone to make a painting they are proud of when I screech to a halt behind a car stopped in the middle of the road while the driver chats to someone sitting outside a bar.

Then I dawdle with rather more attention on to the supermarket and park in the shade. I am quite pleased with myself for remembering to do this simple thing. It is possible , as I have experienced, to get on my scooter and go "Ow Ow OW!!!" because the leather seat is baking. I think it's about 30 degrees today.

Eventually I return slowly to the studio, open both doors and admire the unusual state of tidiness.

Starting the day with "Ciao Bella" should be compulsory!

painting in the street

My street is lovely, the view is lovely and I have painted it loads of times but never from life. So I usually stand inside (all be it near the door) and paint what is outside from a photo. I have thought previously that it is a bit ridiculous but have always been comfortable with photos.

So yesterday was a first for me. It was a bit scary and I was quite disorientated just looking at the street because there were no boundaries or edges like in a photo and I couldn't say for instance , that house is half way up the page or it finishes here at the side ,or even lets draw a line here as a checking device.

I was out on the street attempting to paint from life because my friend Eevi was round and she was doing it. She always paints from life. I've only done it once before.

So we got organised with two cute little chairs that came with the studio when I bought it. They were just the right height to sit on and put your paints and stuff on the ground..

Eevi got started right away and I tried not to panic about where do I start, where do I put the horizon, where is the bottom of the painting, where are the edges, somebody tell me what to do!!

So as Eevi got going with what seemed like relative ease, I decided that I wanted the flowers to be an important part of my painting cause I am awfully proud of them. I have been watering them and feeding them , instead of ignoring them, and they are just gorgeous.

I felt so ignorant! I have all these paintings, sold hundreds over the years, painted this street countless times and I just didn't know how to get going and apart from deciding that the flowers were to be in it ,I was still stuck.

But eventually I decided I would just need to pick something and begin. I drew a rough approximation of the view but the edges kept changing. Oh how I longed for a photo with nice edges. One of these things made of card where you look through it and pick your view would maybe have helped but I had been sitting twiddling for so long that I didn't think I should put off painting for any longer.

So somehow I got on and did it. It looked horrible for ages and I had to trust it was going to get better eventually. (That naturally was when one of the neighbours decided to come and have a look!)

So we sat there in the sun and got on with it. Gradually mine began to take shape. ( Eevi's had been good from the beginning.)

Then it was lunch time and from on high (two stories up) lunch was delivered in a carrier bag on the end of a piece of string, by my very kind neighbour Nella, who had made us my favourite courgette fritters and also some kind of chicken. She has been doing this for at least half the time I have had my studio here and so I have been lucky enough to taste lots of authentic Italian food. She's a great cook and I am lucky to know her.

After lunch we carried on , only interrupted by two dishes of ice cream arriving by the same delivery method, until it got very dull and eventually rained. But we both finished.

It was so very nice (once I got over my inital panic) to paint with someone else. To see my view through someone elses eyes and in a different style. Now I want to do it again!

So if anyone is in my area I would be delighted to have company painting in the street.

Three Trullis and I'm Done!

This week it was my Birthday and I am way , way older than I think I am, though now that I am going to yoga every week, I also feel lots younger than I did. It's nice not to creak.

This is not my first birthday in Italy. The first one was one of those special ones and I celebrated, unintentionally ,in style.

I remember it rained, but as I had texted everybody on my phone to tell them to text me cause it was my birthday and they wouldnt want me to be lonely, I had messages all day. Have not felt as popular since.

Then in the evening we had arranged to go out for a meal in a local restaurant with a couple of friends. We had gone in and booked a table two or three days before, so we arrived about 8pm after having tried to go to the william wallace bar for a drink first. ( we didn't know it never opens before 9pm).

So we walked in to this enormous ballroom , with long lacy curtains at the windows, a polished wood floor and one table set for four in the middle. We were a bit taken aback and at first thought maybe we hadn't made ourselves understood, but no, the table was for us. So we sat down and waited for a menu. Along came the first course. We wondered when some other diners would come in, assuming it just must be some sort of peculiar Italian tradition to just set up tables as people arrived. ( there were chairs and tables pushed up against the wall at one side)

So while we waited for the menu , thinking that the starter must have been sort of freebie, the second course arrived, along with a bottle of prosecco.

It's quite disconcerting to be sitting in the middle of a ballroom not knowing what is going on. There was no menu. Course followed course and gradually it dawned on us that they had opened specially for us and no one else would be coming in. I think there were 7 courses. And like good little children we ate them up. By now I was beginning to see the funny side of it and had stopped feeling quite so weird.

It was the most unusual and special birthday meal I have ever had (and the most expensive).Sitting in the middle of an empty ballroom I felt like it was just the greatest start to the next decade of my life. And who knows what would happen next.

Anyways , apart from it being my birthday this week, what about the trullis!

Trulli s are little round houses with conical roofs which you can find in Puglia. And as I am probably going to to two markets in Ostuni and Martina Franca (In Puglia) I thought I would have a go at painting some , and better still selling some. So last week I hung out the car window on the way to the market and photographed as many as possible. Which was not easy as most had their backs to the road and often we couldn't stop as the road was so narrow. However I managed to get some photos to use . So this week I got going and have managed three so far, despite, plumbers, missing electric bills , the post office having 300 people in the queue after it had been shut for 4 or 5 days , painting all the pipes in the shower room to look like gold, trying to find the source of the damp smell, moving a large sofa from the country house to my studio : meaning it took all morning to move all the rest of the furniture round to make it fit and painting all the bits on the wall that had previously been hidden , and fitting in a lovely meal with friends to celebrate my birthday.

so now I am done.

To Market , to Market to sell a fine painting.....

Stagger out of bed at 5am and after grabbing some toast we set off for two markets. This will be my first time in martina franca at the arty market , by myself.

Even at 5.30am its light now, which makes it not seem quite so early. I am getting dropped off while j. goes on to another market further on. Should all work like clockwork!

So we arrive in the centro storico (Historical centre) and here I am with the umbrella set up at the side of the piazza. (The handle broke off while winding it up but will worry about getting it back down later.)There is always a lovely friendly feel setting up. No one is really in a hurry and when the woman selling jewelry next to me needed to move her stand along a bit everyone helped.

I decided to be minimalist today and so have unfortunately forgotten that some of my paintings have no frames so will be difficult to display. But in my slightly chilled (literally and physically) state I figure I will think of something . Round about this time the wind gets up and blows over half my paintings. Luckily not any with glass in them , as I had them lying flat.

Anyways ,eventually ,with the aid of 2 easels, a table and lots of bits of string to tie everything down, up and around ,I am set up.

Then I have time to look around. Next to me is a man with only 5 pieces of art. They are interesting and become more so as the day goes on. There are maybe a dozen vendors with paintings and three times as many with crafts, jewelry, pottery ,all sorts of things.

Its a great chance for me to practice speaking italian and luckily the man with the interesting art is really chatty. It 's his first time at a market. As the day goes on it gets warmer and eventually everyone is set up. Not that there is an opening time anyways, or not that I am aware of.

It is so great to be part of a market in a lovely old piazza. I would have liked to have taken more photos but in the spirit of minimalism had left my good camera at home.

(There is a point to the minimalism .)

So all day I sit and watch people go by, picking out the tourists easily by the way they are dressed , stand about and chat to giacomo next door, (now I know all about his art work and how it's made and what it means.) I go for a few little "giro 's" , including coffee and then I actually sell a painting. It's the one I did the afternoon before because it had a trulli in it (Little house with conical roof) and also i had always liked the photo I used as reference ,because of the criss crossing branches . That is a great feeling .

When it gets to lunch time Giacomo says his wife is bringing lunch and would I like her to bring some for me. As I am really hungry I say thank you. His wife is lovely and the food is great. And then we have a coffee.

The afternoon drags a bit but by 5pm people are coming out for a passiegata ( walk along the street, chatting to people and wearing nice clothes.)

Some of the stall holders get together in the middle of the piazza and do half an hours traditional music and singing. During this time Giacomo buys me an ice cream because he says music is better with ice cream.

Then I go see an exhibition by a local naive painter which really moves me and I finally work out why I paint the way I do.

And I am completely overwhelmed by the whole day, and did I mention early evening light is spectacular on the surrounding buildings.

It gets colder later on and when I go to get a hot cup of tea in a cafe I get an iced tea, with ice cubes in a glass. And it was too late to say it was wrong. (Shudder!)

There are several women who sell crafts , and some day , I will speak well enough to maybe be part of their group. They are sitting, chatting and laughing and I miss belonging.

Then it is impossible to leave until well after 9 pm as the narrow streets are packed with people and the car cant get near. ( The reason for minimalism being I thought I might have to carry everything some distance !)

However the car gets there and then somehow is manouvered out between vendors packing up, people walking by and then scrapes through incredibly narrow streets and we are on our way home.

What a brilliant day. wish you'd been there.

(Have not used Giacomo's real name.)

glass of wine, scooter lights and order

Am sitting at my desk, lunch is cooking and I have treated myself to a glass of wine. It has been another day of mixed emotions, varied happenings and not getting stuff done. And its only lunch time!

I may sound a little ungrateful for sun and art and the good life, but oh, for a little order or even boredom: no boredom is going a bit too far, just some routine.

Take today for instance. I had plans. I started ok. scootered up to studio , made fakey cappucino and checked emails. ok so far.

Then I got the chance to go out for coffee and ,well I did need to go to the post office. So off I went, telling myself that I never get started painting before 11am anyways , oh and if I dont go out what will I write about and more in that vein.

So after coffee, (I even tried to draw in the cafe) I made another visit to the post office where I waited for my number to come up and then got a bill and no book from America. (been waiting 6 weeks now and the other book arrived 3 weeks ago.)

And now due to somewhat heated interchange in cafe I have to go back to country house and pick up some documents. But it is only 10.30am Maybe I can get started at 11am yet.

So scooter back to country house, admire kitten in porch and then forgetting to leave bill set off for studio. On way note that scooter engine is making a strange clanking noise. console myself with the spurious reasoning that as I am a little anxious I am probably imagining it. So I clank up to Pisticci, forgetting to admire the lovely scenery as I am focused on getting some work done or I will never be able to afford to stay here. No pressure huh! ( and hoping that the clanking doesnt stop along with the motor!)

So back in the studio I turn on the computer and find an episode of Claire in the community and set to work. After half an hour of repainting stuff I did yesterday I realise I have a splitting headache so look for paracetamols. Cant find any so reluctantly leave painting and decide I had better go get some before the shops all close at 1pm for the siesta. On the way out I see that the mechanic who has often helped me out before is in his workshop so decide to ask him if he could fix the lights.( not the clanking, cause after all I could be imagining that, and if he doesnt say anything when he hears the engine then it is obviously all in my head, yes?)

So I ask him , if , when he has time , maybe he could possibly look at my lights? No wonder I cant speak Italian when I try to say things like that! So after making myself understood he kindly tells me to go bring it round now, so forgetting about the paracetamols I go get the scooter.

I stand around after explaining that the lights work but they seem to be crossed. They make a weird pattern on the road and I cant hardly see anything. That was even more difficult to explain and had to resort to hand gestures. Luckily there was a screw missing so that wasn't all in my head! Perhaps I could have put that better!

And then I waited and looked around and his workshop was so ordered and colourful and full of stuff. Like all this potential to make things better .( repair things). Maybe it was the way everything was ordered and contrasted with the curved ceiling and old walls. Maybe the fact that there were old things beside new things, beside machines for making metal wotsits.

And so very much more. It just had real personality.

I said how much I admired it, all the little drawers, and shelves and curious containers, and rows of tools in ascending order. He may well have been a little puzzled by my enthusiasm for his workshop, especially when I said could I go get my camera and take some photos but clutching a bag of tools which he had given me out of a particularly interesting cabinet with shallow sliding drawers, which I think he said had belonged to a chemist, I went off and returned with my camera and one of my newly made prints of Pisticci as a thank you for the tools.

So now my lights are fixed and I can adjust them myself if need be with one of my new screwdrivers. I also know how to lock my scooter wheel. ( I thought the wheel had jammed!)

Slightly embarrassing.

And now I have finished the wine, my lunch has dried out and I want some order in my life, maybe..................

the little car that wouldn't go.......

The little car sat in the garden in the south of Italy and waited.

The grass grew up round its wheels and cats slept on its bonnet. It was shaded by an old olive tree which fanned it in the breeze and scratched and hit it in storms.

It was old and tired and it just did not want to go anywhere, do anything, it was fed up!

Before it got to the garden It had sat in a yard with some other vehicles. It was in the town and there was lots going on so it wasn't bored. It got a bit scruffy and neglected but it wasnt a bad life.

Then one day some people came along and poked and prodded and pushed it around. they looked in the engine and tutted and shook fingers and then disappeared. The little car thought that was that and settled back to retire again but no sooner had it got comfortable than it was pushed and pulled and hauled and balanced and lifted and slightly broken and loaded on to a lorry. Luckily it was well tied on because the lorry sped off up hills round bends under trees and finally arrived in the garden where it was pulled off and parked under the olive tree.

And then a horrid time began in the cars life when it was taken to bits and put back together again, driven down the road and then taken to bits again. Then there was a spell when it was taken to another town and parked in a street and poked and prodded and argued over again. Someone called Angelo who seemed to be quite fond of it kept twiddling with this and that and then finally it stopped. The little car sat there for weeks.

Then one day Angelo got in and drove off in it, but unfortunately there was hardly any petrol so he didn't get very far. Next came a very small truck and several people shoved and pushed and shouted a lot and made the little car get in even though it broke one of its mirrors. That was a bad day for the car but Angelo was pleased . He had made it pass a test which had required more prodding and poking.

Later that day the little car had been taken back to the garden and then it sat there for months. It was rained on and the seats got wet. It got cold and would not start and it was quite miserable. But eventually the sun came out again and the car cheered up a little. There were things going on in the garden. A strange man was often around climbing trees and cutting bits off. Some times he fell down. That was funny. Sometimes he drove a tractor but he never spoke to the little car except to say, "useless piece of plastic" as he marched past. Sometimes he ran past chasing a cat.

The little car just watched.

Then one day a woman called Anna got in and tried to start up the engine. The little car held its breath and refused to start.

Later that day Angelo returned. He came back every day for what seemed like weeks and put in extra bits, then took them out again. He sighed , scratched his head and had a smoke a lot ,but eventually all seemed in order.

Now Anna was the owner of the little car and she was a little scared of driving but she was determined to be brave and take the little car out lots of places and take care of it. She thought it could become a very special little car. In fact she was going to write a book about it, where they went on lots of little journeys and visited interesting places and painted them.

So one morning , after Anna had not slept at all well because she was so anxious about taking the little car out for its first trip, she got up and before she got into the car she sat down and drew it in the garden. underneath she wrote MY AMICA IN THE GARDEN. Then she gritted her teeth got in and reversed round the corner. And then it stopped. And that was that. It would not go. The engine went on going but the little car would not move and nothing would make it go!!

Anna got out, pushed it back under the olive tree, got on her scooter (trying not to feel relieved) and left.

The little car let out its breath, relaxed, yawned and prepared for another day in the garden.

Not knowing that Angelo was speeding up the road with his tool kit and determined expression on his face......................................................................................................