I am back in Baltimore and this  posting concludes Travels With My Shoes.

I met Max early on  Monday October 5 th at Barajas airport (Madrid). It was great to see him. A few hours later we left  for Santander and were met at the airport by Carlos Limorti,  curator of the Palacete del Embarcadero.We were dropped at Hotel Central,  conveniently close to the Palacete , where we were to  enjoy breakfasts all week under the watchful eyes of a huge moosehead.

Monday evening  we sat watching the Paseo, the evening  procession of citizens, walking by the sea in the clear grey light of Santander that gives people an almost  hyper-real quality . A wonderfully transfixing and entertaining  sight that I was glad to share  with Max. Tuesday morning we were picked up at the Hotel to go to Casa Depot Santander (not its real name) to buy the thin plywood on which the shoes were to be  placed. With Max translating we selected 8 pieces that Panchi and his team  brought  to the Palacete. A word about Panchi and the team. These three Santanderians who work for the port are phenomenal. They help artists with the installation of  exhibits  and will do ANYTHING within reason you ask for. They work quickly, professionally and are helpful and friendly. They were a different crew from the ones working a few years ago when Oscar but just as impressive. Imagine, putting on a show and just directing someone to do the work !!
Oscar arrived early Wednesday and we got to work arranging the space, getting screens painted for the background and unpacking the 106 shoes. Max went off to make small business cards with the blue shoe on the exhibit card, to advertise the opening. By Thursday evening , after much experimentation, we had placed the shoes! The photo shows about a sixth of the entire exhibit.

The small groups of paintings were expertly  hung in a semi circular room off the main space after Oscar had balanced  on a ladder to  adjust the lighting with tinfoil and roasting pans !
About five hours before the opening on Friday the long anticipated CATALOG arrived and it looked great. Very exciting. Oscar had worked many hours gathering, soliciting and translating essays and Alejandro Lopez had done a fine job designing the book.
All I can say about The Opening  is that it  was a bit of a blur for me, but plenty of people came. After 9 pm Carlos took us  and several friends  out for dinner to a place close to the water that looked like a tunnel lit by a lurid red light. I walked home before the party broke up. I was exhausted. Oscar took off for Paris early next morning but Max and I stayed 2 more days before returning to Madrid. By the time we left Santander Max knew half the people walking along the street. People were coming upto us. Holá Max! Just like Charles Village. Max took a noon flight back to Philadelphia  and I lugged my bags back to Chinchon . Before going to Santander I had sorted out the studio to the point that it was almost “ready to leave “ so the 2 days before my final departure I spent time getting rid of trash, sweeping and mopping floors. By chance, on a trip to Madrid to register my mobile phone #, I happened on a great exhibit of Lisette Model’s photographs at one of the Mapfre Galleries . Wow. Lucky me.

Jan Kees , Carla’s husband, took me to Barajas early Thursday with Heavy Bags. I could have bussed it to Madrid but decided getting there very very early and waiting was worth one more journey as a sherpa, covered in suitcases and bags. Connecting at Heathrow  was slightly nervewracking but Alex picked me up at BWI and the travels ended where they had started.
And… although I’ve finished  traveling with shoes I’ll be posting news of  my art events in Baltimore and elsewhere at this site. Thanks for coming along !

On the second day in Santander, Max and I went to buy a camera. As I gave the salesman a card for DE PASO, he immediately recognized the image from the morning’s newspaper, “El Diario Montañes.”

We bought the camera and some newspapers and read the article over lunch.

If you would like to read it too and don’t speak Spanish, get out your Spanish Dictionaries or find a Spanish speaking friend. “El Palacete inaugura la tercera muestra individual en España de Ruth Pettus”

Ireland Part II

Last week I took the bus from Laughrea to Dublin to pick up some of last year’s shoes that Sandra Villegas, Oscar’s sister, had wanted to have in her house. She is involved in theatre and thought them somewhat dramatic and humorous. After the pick up I took a bus down Dame Street to visit to the Irish Museum Of Modern Art, the IMMA, to see an exhibit called ‘Signal to Noise’ by the American painter Terry Winters. I’m not so familiar with his work but can recognise it (sometimes) so I wanted to see this exhibit to learn more plus the title appealed to me.

IMMA is one of the most beautiful modern museums and for me a favourite museum building, hands down. It was an old soldier’s Home/ Hospital built in pale grey limestone with a large central cobbled courtyard. The simplicity of the structure is -I want to say and will – like a breath a fresh air after the pyrotechnics of Bilbao, and other contemporary art structures. Much of the natural light in the building comes from the large cobbled courtyard. It has a quietness and symmetry that is perfect for seeing and absorbing the art.

I dropped my shoe bag in the cloakroom and easily found “Signal to Noise.” The more time I spent with the work the more interesting it became and usually it is the other way round for me.

The series of drawings were sensational. Most were graphite on vellum or ink on vellum, but it was the graphite that stood out with its dark, thick, intense line quality. To achieve that, a huge amount of energy is required (Or maybe I am naïve and there was some mechanical device assisting him!) Walking along the wall there was a continual movement of grids, lines, circles, ellipses, fragmentation of grids looking like fraying fabric, sometimes piled on top of each other, colliding, a huge variety jumbling elements unravelling. Due to the unremitting pressure of the dynamic line, it appeared that a current connected all the studies in the room. Phenomonal!

I found the paintings, at first, less compelling. I’m always a bit uneasy when there are titles that refer to virtual or scientific data (like “Source Wave Reference 1999”) and, after reading the intro to the show, realised that this was one visual and conceptual underpinning in his work. There is also a Hermetic angle, an involvement with ancient philosophies based on alchemy and mysticism AND, of great interest to me, an emphasis on knots and knotting, the power and magical significance of the intricate knots in Japanese and Celtic lore . In spite of the fact that I liked earlier paintings (like “Extending Pathways 1998”) to the more supposedly evolved later work (like “Tangle 2008”) which had a stencilled and decorative quality, I was sufficiently interested in everything to read some essays in the catalogue and then shocked myself by buying one.

After that I went off to see “ Between Object and Metaphor,” selections from IMMA and the Weltkunst Foundation. As I walked into the first gallery I wanted to run and get my bag of shoes and plant them in amongst the luminaries: Ann Hamilton, Rachael Whiteread, Richard Long (See post 3 in Pettusart -Visit to the Tate ). The usual suspects.

Oscar Villegas, long-time pal and curator of DE PASO, has a friend ( a pre-eminent collector ) who leaves stick’em messages of her ideas as a critique throughout museum exhibitions. I would have liked to add my shoes because they so perfectly fit the category, METAPHOR-OBJECT. But no. I did not . Maybe next time.

IMMA is well placed to catch the bus back to Loughrea. So without having to lug my shoes back into Centre City Dublin, I was elated on the way back which is usually a long bore.

Winston has so much to do in house and grounds that he hires a couple of Brazilian

Lads. Many Brazillians came to Ireland during the boom years as guest workers. Marcello and Antonio are terrific workers and very fond of Winston. He gives them lunch and they were delighted and felt quite at home ( ie back in Brazil) eating a delicious pig’s head he cooked one day. The Irish were squeamish when invited to partake. Last week we invited M and A and four of their friends for barbecue of meat from Brazil, bought at one of the Brazilian shops in Laughrea. We cooked the meat on the embers of a massive bonfire from the branches of the downed copper beech (Last posting). They loved the churrasco. Winston did an ace job with the marinade and the cooking. Late night, embers going strong the next morning.

There was Brazil music and Antonio asked me to dance. He is one of the best but very short. It reminded me of many, many years ago when I cycled down to the Latino Festival in Fells Point and was asked to dance by a perfectly lovely looking man who was 5 ‘2”. And he made me get on the stage!!

Anyway it was an honor to be asked.

I missed Max and thought what a great time he would have had with these guys. Max spent an extra year of high school in Brazil. I tried to call him to put him on speaker phone but, alas, couldn’t get through. Since school started Sophie and Victoria are in their term time schedule, which means they are here every other weekend and Tuesday and Thursday nights. We started to play Scrabble but with a bent rule. We check words, if we do not know if they exist, in the dictionary. Winston has 2 massive volumes of the New Shorter Oxford Dic. Especially with youngsters one discovers new words. Did you know a “tui” is a glossy bird from New Zealand also called a parsonbird. And a “hipe” is a wrestling throw. It’s also good exercise for biceps and I think it makes the game more interesting.

I’m off to Madrid tomorrow. I’ve been here almost 9 weeks!! My generous brother is a great cook and I’ll need to do a lot of exercising. I’ve done quite a bit of artwork in the basement…the shoes are documented and packed away, the rest I’ll be bringing back

To Baltimore via Madrid.

The opening in Santander is in 2 weeks and 2 days.

“Another opening, another show…”

Ireland

Waiting in Beauvais Airport, Paris on my way to Ireland, I started to get a nasty sore throat and by the time I got to Shannon I was feeling awful. It was July 31 and I was visiting my brother Winston, at Killinan House, Kilchreest, Loughrea, Co. Galway on the west coast of Ireland, a big pile of a house that was originally built for the Protestant Vicar about 200 years ago.

It was my luck to be visiting family in the middle of the country, where I could cough night and day in a far corner and not bother anyone. The first 3 weeks I did not see much of Sophie and Victoria, Winston’s two young teenage daughters as they are now well into teenagehood and were finishing summer holidays with their friends. The house still appeared somewhat shipwrecked in spite of their being a new slate roof, one reason for the shambles was outside. The magnificent old copper beech tree, a favourite sight from my window had cracked in half and fallen down, looking like a fallen mast. However, the crows that had lived in the tree did eventually return, some to stay the night in what’s left of their old home, others opting for neighbouring branches. In the evenings I love to hear the mad and incredible sound of them in chorus loudly communicating the daily news, cheering each other on, each one trying to out-scream the other, and then… they sleep, and then… off in the morning to work with a few quiet caaaawwws.

One new and interesting development at Winston’s are new cable stations. Al Jazeera UK, the English language site demonized in the US, appears to be an interesting and balanced news broadcast. I find no real anti-American or anti-Israeli slant, plus they a have some excellent in-depth documentaries, like a very worthwhile a series on Veterans from all over the world. However the Russian cable channel is laughably transparent propaganda.

After my “recovery,” which took a week, we fixed up a sturdy long table and put it in the basement so I could do some work with shoes and oil pastels. I’m up before Winston and early mornings, unless there is any early trip, I’m down there. I was glad to find an interesting young photographer, Holly Ellis, to document the shoes I had made last year.

Winston’s friend Marion, from Boston, arrived mid-August and we took a three day excursion to the Dingle peninsula. We went not only because it is a lovely area, (the beaches, and sites where “Ryan’s Daughter” was filmed) but also because Winston’s friend Ian Dolan, who works for the Irish aid agency Trócaire in Maputo, Mozambique, had rented a cottage there with his wife, Claudia and their two small sons. We stayed in a hostel, used for “stag and hen” parties. Our room had a bashed-in door, and we slept scrunched on bunks with mattress springs pushing through the fabric. All that aside, at Inch Beach Winston, Ian, and myself went plunging into the Atlantic Ocean for a good half hour, while Marion and Claudia were shivering ashore. It was exhilarating !!! And interesting for me to change on the beach in and out of my “togs” —Irish for swimsuit.

On the way back we drove to Annascaul to visit Ros from Birmingham, another friend of Winston’s, who has a Punch and Judy show that she has performed solo for many years. We also dropped by the South Pole Pub opened by Tom Crean and his wife after his amazing journeys to Antarctica with Shackleton, among others. Great photos by Frank Hurley of that famous expedition hung on the wall of the pub. The lake at Annascaul was a particularly memorable. It is surrounded by steep ultra green slopes with tiny white dots—sheep! They do not appear to move however long you look.

On our return an urgent message to call Oscar awaited me. DE PASO, my show in Santander, was to be POSTPONED! After a few days the shock vanished and travel plans were rearranged for the three week delay of the opening.

Marion was interested in music and played Irish tunes on the piano so we went to hear Winston’s friends playing in Kinvarra at a pub and to the Friday market. After Marion had left I did an overnight trip to Dublin to see Bonnie and Ann, two of the troika who run Pasatiempo in Mieres where I did some workshops 2 years ago.

Due to the delay of the show I decided to stay put here. Winston is an excellent cook, easy going, and we get on well. I suffer here from a lack of walking since we are “in the country” and there are no rural paths, only narrow roads with fast moving trucks. Despite that, I walked into Laughrea —3.8 miles jumping from each side of the road as the traffic sped by. Until the rain came it was fine. My “rain proof “ jacket from Duluth Trading: USELESS! The weather has been mild but very rainy.

I need to be better water-proofed in Ireland.

Paris.

It was raining in Paris when I arrived, so I took a taxi to Blvd. Malherbes 68 where Oscar met me. In this typical Parisian building Oscar had rented a chambre de bonne (maid’s room) on the 6th floor, 110 steps up. At first the steps were dauntingly aerobic going up, and a perilous experience going down the twisting structure. However, over the week I not only appreciated the hard-working bonnes who went up and down, but began to feel some strange pleasure in going up the mountain after a long evening eating and drinking, and knew I would miss them.
I do not know Paris at all. Oscar had planned for years to move there, knows the city well and we managed to spend most evenings together, the rest of the day I did some museum gawking, but mostly enjoyed scribble-sketching on a bench in the Parc Monceau.

First evening I found a café called Chez Bebert, (a song I have sung in my Bicycle Cabaret performances) but it was closed for summer -plus I was told that it is just a cous cous chain. So, on to Musee D’Orsay . Oscar recommended an exhibit that unfortunately had just closed.
Although this museum is considered a shrine by most people I find it difficult to navigate. I also found one of those maddening exhibits : Max Ernst Collages Une Semaine de Bonte. Originally in pamphlet form, someone had the ridiculous idea to exhibit each day’s pages in separate rooms. For me, after seeing just one wall, I jumped ship. The similarity of format created a tiring blur. I’m sure Max E. would not have approved.

I made my way to Jeu de Pommes Hotel sully to see Agusti Centelles’ Spanish Civil War Photographs, a small intense exhibit documenting the war and detention of Spanish republican fighters in France. The books relating to the show were attached to a table by wire that was in an incredible tangle, so if you picked up a book, the wire being shortened by knots, it almost pulled you onto the floor. We were all reading in strange positions due to this phenomena and I got into an interesting conversation with a Lina Wertmuller look-alike about this, who kept saying: “ Only in Paris, only in Paris…” A big book in the tangle of photographs by Gerda Taro, Robert Capa’s collaborator was extraordinary.

BUT the most stunning, numero uno, sin duda, art I saw, were the gargoyles on Notre Dame AT NIGHT. We walked up to the serene well-recognised façade, turned the corner and jutting out like lightening were the gargoyles. At different angles and lengths there was none of the symmetry of the façade. Like giant dangerous quills they appeared to spurt from the walls, their faces grotesque with malignant expression.

Lit by a full moon, they reminded me of the paintings by Francis Bacon of the Screaming Pope. After having had dinner at a simple Tibetan restaurant and enjoying watching groups of young folk hanging out and performing ad hoc by the Seine to see this was to turn a corner and hear screeching disaster. A powerful unexpected experience. A crack of the stockwhip in the middle of the night.

Anyway, after that wake up call, everything seemed tame. My final day I visited Bruce

Van Barthold and his family in Vaux Sur Seine. Bruce is the son of Prue V-B, my mother’s roommate in London before she met my father. Last year Prue, reminiscing with Bruce said “I wonder what happened to all those Pettus’s?” They found me and I visited Prue last year in Wimbledon and enjoyed a day with Bruce, who I had not seen for about 44 years, according to our calculations. I was sorry to have just missed his Dad by a day. He knew my mother as an au pair in Paris. We visited the house where Van Gogh had died, and his grave, where he is buried next to his younger brother Theo, recipient of all those amazing letters. I had always thought Theo was older .Theo took his own life the year after Vincent. I removed a nasty plastic sunflower from the grave.

Hamburg.

My lack of German caused me to get off at the wrong station in Hamburg (but I was on the right train and had all bags) and so miss my pick-up connection with Martin Lahnstein, the brother of my Baltimore friend Barbara Lahnstein, who owns Neopol Smokery in the Belvedere Square Marketplace.
After that was sorted, we went to the Hamburg Work Museum Museum der Arbeit where Martin works as a printer. He printed up some simple but mysterious cards for De Paso, that I distribute to a select group.

The following day we road bicycles and due to my balance having deteriorated from 2 years ago, I fell off not once -but twice!!! In spite of that, we had a great ride all over Hamburg and to the Strand, the city beach on the Elbe river, which, like all city beaches, has a great variety of people and children, no body-fashion parade. At a restaurant called Strand Perle I did some scribbling–sketches and Martin took a picture of the subject and the sketch.

We cycled about 20 kilometres, got a bit lost going through a graveyard and I almost tumbled off for the third time right before the end, but we ended up back at Walburgstrasse 22 (Martin’s flat) where I asked for some Schnapps -Thank you very much.
Next day we took a road trip to the Nolde Museum in Seebull, close to Denmark. The museum building was a retrofit of Nolde’s house and the paintings were crowded into a few rooms. In the basement was the famous “Crucifixion” that the Nazi’s included in the Entartete Kunst, the exhibit that condemned radical art in Germany show of 1937 in Munich, in spite of the fact that Nolde was a card carrying Nazi and a diehard racist. Anyway the painting was ghastly. Most of the work, except some luminous gouache landscapes, was unappealing to me -plus there was no ventilation, and loads of people were crushing through due to a grey day. The garden looked bedraggled, none of the purple irises that inspired his beautiful floral water colours, or masses of poppies.

We went to the North Sea coast at Niebull, it was high tide, meaning the water was over the cement walkway, almost upto the grass on which small rentable bathing ‘cabinets’ were dotted (these looked very 19th century to me). As we walked to get a fresh sea food sandwich I was stung by a big wasp, still had my shoes off from the sea…YOUCH. The sandwich people cut some fresh onion for my foot and it DID work to stop the swelling and soreness.

Later we stopped and walked up a bank to see to a system of wetland management, how the sea is kept off the flat grazing land. It was a lovely day by then and over the bank there were suddenly tons of sheep with the sea held in check by lines of wood going out into the distance. It was a beautiful sight.

The next day I asked Martin if we could walk not cycle! He agreed. We went to an exhibit at the Bucerius Kunst Forum called “Edward Hopper and his Times.” Included were the usual suspects but it was a good exhibition and space -and a relief after the claustrophobia of the Nolde Museum!
Martin invited me to Hamburg 2 years ago. I had discovered that Brahms had been born there, in a slum, and wanted to investigate. We had a great time then cycling Hamburg, looking for old shoes, and I enjoyed his old quiet flat and balcony overlooking a serene garden with huge old trees and empty chairs. This visit, except for my shameful bicycle performance, was just as interesting and pleasant. Mostly when we stopped out came my small notebook for sketch ‘n scribblin,

Martin, who is very unobtrusive, waited patiently. I have a lot of Hamburgers in my book. Finally, I have not mentioned how good the food was, home –cooked or out, mmm…pickled herring!!

Friday, I arrived in Berlin and met up with Susanne Riveles, a friend from Baltimore, at a designated meeting place close to her sublet flat. I wanted to see “Berliner Arbeiterwiderstand” -Berlin Worker Resistance, an exhibit that Susanne and three other daughters of executed resistors during the Nazi era had organized. Last year it was inaugurated by the placement of commemorative brass plaques in front of some houses of those who died, including that of Dr. Johann Kreiselmaier, Susanne’s father.

This year a detailed exhibit opened in June at Humboldt University. Saturday Susanne and I had a 12-hour outing (mostly on foot) that included a visit to the exhibit. It was a well designed series of panels, each one with information detailing the different contributions made by the specific group of resistors including women, athletes, Jews, soldiers and workers. Susanne helpfully guided me through in English, adding extra information from the 4 years of research that the group had amassed.

Next we visited the “Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe” -the Holocaust Memorial close to the Brandenburg Gate. The memorial consists of a maze of 2711 cement sarcophagi. Some are knee high, others tower above, some are tilted, others perpendicular to the ground casting weird shadows. It creates an atmosphere of claustrophobia and danger. One can easily become lost. It is also a remarkable monument because children play hide-and-seek throughout the site. This counterpoint to the brutal origins of the site adds an unexpected dimension to the memorial. Underneath there is a museum that documents the Holocaust and an information centre about individuals and families that perished.

We then went to the enormous Berlin Dom to hear an inspired Organ Concert played by Frenchman Vincent Warnier. When Susanne told me in the morning that at 8pm we would be at an organ recital I inwardly groaned thinking I’d be asleep. However, we met up with her friend Heidi, an interesting organist herself and it was quite amazing. The music reverberated in the GIANT space, penetrating our weary muscles and consciousness. Also good to see a lot of young folk there. After the concert we three walked through the night stopping for a glass of wine before taking a bus home. An amazing day.

The next day I went to an exhibit by Emil Nolde, “Work on Paper,” at the Berlin Museum of Prints and Drawings. It was disappointing except for a quick ink sketch of a tugboat in Hamburg, and a print of showgirls at the Tingel-Tengel club. I did discover that Nolde had traveled to the South Seas -but more on Nolde from Hamburg… Since Susanne was departing soon for Baltimore, I decided to leave the next day for Hamburg. Having seen schedules for an unbelievable variety of music, theatre and art I realized that the city had more going than I could have ever imagined. I hope to walk more!

My first evening in Amsterdam I attended the birthday party for a three year old. Friend Joy Ehrlich and lovely son Tobias had been invited, and I tagged along to the Plantoon, a green area in the middle of their neighborhood. Joy was a zebra and I a chimpanzee. It’s been a while since I put on a monkey mask, chimped and chased kids, but it was not hard to slip back in time on a warm summer evening among a congenial group of young parents.

I stayed at a quiet annex built by Gerbrand and Willeke, older artist friends of Joy’s. A bit like a movie set —huge armoires with china and mirrors, extraordinary tiles with figures and flowers made by Willeke, a low chandelier over a round table and a taxidermed turkey way high that watched me as I did my yoga stretches. I spent evenings with Joy, her partner Hans, and Tobias. I only went to one museum the FOAM museum and saw Guy Tillim’s exhibit “Avenue Patrice Lumumba.” I was unfamiliar with his photography so not only was it interesting to make a new ” discovery ” but also to find work that was unexpectedly powerful.

I also visited The Tree House, an exhibition space close to the American bookshop, to investigate it as a possible Shoe venue. I found the BEST place to have early coffee too: Open early, 2 blocks from the annex by the canal, populated by noisy local men who were perfect for scribbling…

An older New Zealander came in and began a banter with an Aussie living in the city. ” No, we’re from New Zealand and we’re better lookin’ than you Australians”.

I said ” Well I’m also a Kiwi.”

“Yeah, well you’re better lookin’ too!”

“But you’re looking at my back….”

“Got a good look at your front when I came in.”

When I showed him my sketch he said, ” You got me ears roit.”

It was very funny. They were tourists, not stiff-necked and I recognized that casual sense of humor from times in Australia and London.

By buying olive oil and hairspray from a local Turkish grocer, I was able to do some oil pastels but every time I got up from the table I spiked my head on the low hanging chandelier. But I succeeded in getting some work done in Amsterdam, my hope to do work throughout this trip.

On Friday I left for Berlin. At Amsterdam central station on my way to the airport, some people were helping me board the train; they took on my bag before giving me a hand… and the doors closed! We all threw up our hands in horror and made wild gestures but off chugged the train.

One more petit catastroph for me to chalk up.

However, through the heroic sleuthing of Joy, and Hans driving to pick up the bag, making a last minute rescue mission to Schipol airport’s Lost and Found before the bag was to be transported to the black hole of L&F in the Netherlands, the bag is now with Joy, to be forwarded to Ireland!!

The oil pastel workshop was ON! Wednesday July 8, Rachael, Alex and I trucked over to Turtle and Moon with enough paper, pastels, olive oil, and hairspray (fixative) for 10 people. It was the first time I had done an outdoor Mediterranean workshop and it was for me it was a learning experience. Several young children were involved and although for 2 hours everyone did several oil pastels, the casual atmosphere became slightly anarchic. Lise said that it went on for 2 hours after I left, people couldn’t stop…. I think next year I’ll aim for 3 hours and a bit more structure.

On Thursday Rachael, Alex, Zenon, and I journeyed into the Troodos Mountains for lunch, scenery and coolness. We drove past vineyards that had produced the oldest know wine, Commandari, the beverage of the Crusades.

My last Sunday the family, minus Sophia, went to a beautiful stony beach. Walking up those lovely rocks for another lovely fish lunch, old aunt Ruth, not being as lithe as the Cypriot side of the family stumbled and tumbled. I’ll have to work on those skills for next year.

It is my final evening here, and from the veranda you see the tiny moving headlights of traffic in the distance. In the bright mornings the cars appear as miniature replicas with the sea in the distance. There is a strangely hypnotic pleasure in watching them. I have to remind myself to get something done!

On the veranda there are remains of the evening’s souvlaki and I have done some drawings with the charcoal. Almost every morning I did some oil pastels at small quiet table behind my room… Thinking of creating more shoes (always on my mind) I sent 3 pairs Rachael had donated to Ireland so I can be up and running (?!) when I get to Winston’s. Last year I started working on some shoes in Ireland and look forward to doing more.

My next few stops— Amsterdam, Berlin, Hamburg, and Paris will be short urban stops visiting friends and so much different from the somewhat chaotic, kid -filled, beautiful Cyprus of the last two weeks. Rachael has been stoic, dealing with my missteps, managing her impressive garden of organic fruits and vegetables… doing most of the shopping, cooking, managing 2 teenagers and 2 small ones.

Although Kay Pericle, Rachel’s’ Mother’s Helper for the past 12 years, does take some of the “burthen.”

And I learned an interesting Greek word for the irritating people who zoom by on motorbikes: Bambakovillos – it means “Cotton Ball DICK”. If you want to call someone that, you say ‘Bambakovillay!’ Could come in handy…

I arrived in Paphos, Cyprus, late Tuesday evening June 30. My sister Rachael, who is married to a Greek Cypriot, met me at the airport. I had been reading a book “Agent ZigZag ” by Ben MacIntyre about a double agent during WWII – in the book

I had found a photograph of Rachael’s godfather, Ronnie Reed, who was Zig Zag’s M15 British handler. Some coincidence!!

As soon as I came into the house her youngest son Leo asked me if they could do oil pastels. Ne ne endaxi . Yes Yes OK! It’s part of my staying here to bring my oil pastel supplies and supervise their drawings using Rachael’s own home grown organic olive oil as a medium.

Rachael and her friend Lise, who runs an informal art studio “Turtle and Moon”, had attempted to line up a small oil pastel workshop for me but it had not caught on. However, the next day, at a relaxed open house, I took my supplies and did a few small pieces as a demo. Holy Cow! Tomorrow I have group of 8 signed up!

The next day we went to Lemba to visit Paul Croft aka “The Bone Man,” with a large bone Zenon had found on land around the house. Paul is a British archaeologist who reconstructed the Lemba Round houses and excavated the “oldest known well in the world.” Paul brought out two bones, a donkey and cow bone. Holding up Zenon’s bone it was clear it was the bone of a cow!

That day being Thursday, Christos, Rachael’s husband returned home to Paphos from Nicosia, where he works part of the week. I heard his unmistakable tenor profundo from my cool “dungeon” room downstairs. That evening we ate souvlaki and drank his home made wine on the large back porch the size of a bowling alley with displays of Tae Kwon Do from Zenon and Alex against the twilight. The next three evenings were variations on this theme with food and entertainment changing slightly. Very lovely.

Rachael picked up a new addition to the family, a dog they’ve named Lizzie, on the road. She needed to be spayed and the deed was done. Dogs are not allowed in most Cypriot houses, so she has a crate but she pined. While looking for lost shoes Rachael discovered she had made a nest for herself hidden behind the back door and in her lair our shoes were found (My kind of dog -No?)The story of Lizzie is on Rachael’s Little White Donkey blog.

There is a constant soundtrack in the house, a Greek video cartoon, “Batman Returns” played again and again. Because of the heat the little kids watch movies from 10- 2pm. After Alex gets back from his morning job he and Sophia vie for the computer. All of this in the big room that extends to the kitchen. It takes a bit of getting used to after the still silence of my studio in Chinchon.

Rachael does plenty of work in her organic vegetable garden and orchard. Every day picking -yesterday planting more beans and cucumbers for the next cycle. She says spring is the busiest. She makes boxes of veggies for people every week, the cost depending on what is available. Now there is karpuzi *(water melon) sugar melons, eggplant, courgettes, Swiss chard, beetroot, Italian parsley …Loads of fresh vegetables.

We eat plenty of cucumber and cherry tomato salad but I do have to buy celery, (My staff of life.) since it is not one of her crops. With the surplus of apples she creates apple jelly, apple cake, apple crumble and still grumbles about how many apples are left.

I’ve done some work with her in the field but somehow got “poison ivy” blisters from something, striking the fear of god into me.