Ps. This should have gone before the last post!
So we head back down hoping not to run into another policeman but this time at least we have prepared a tale of woe just in case. That my wallet was stolen in Bologna (my daughter had hers stolen two years previously there so why not use that location) and that I've applied online for my International licence and that it's on it's way (I have a photo of the payment now on my phone). All tracks covered, we go to collect the paint.
The paint mixer man starts to bring out my paints and there is a strange code on the top so of course I ask what it means. Ah, he said, you have to add 30% water before you use, so 2 litres to one, 300 mls to another and so on. I came in confident, I leave thinking what have I done? I ask what I should mix it in and he brings me a big red bucket with measurements, I ask how I should mix it and he brings me a wooden stick that was lying around the place. He gives me his card and tells me to call him if any 'problemi' as the Italians say which makes a problem sound like something cute and cuddly .When I asked the 'font of all knowledge' in our town about painting, he says he has never painted anything, he gets someone to do it. Now I know why. One container is so large, I can't lift it. I soldier on.
We arrive back home without me wanting to turn off continuously. This is a problem I have and the daughter gently talks me out of doing so. She says go straight and for some reason if I see a bunch of signs that point to the right, for some inexplicable reason, I want to take them. Maybe a part of me wants to explore the unknown. The daughter is very patient with me. We make it home without detours.
But then we open the boot, take the small things out and look at the huge paint container and at that moment, a friend of my late husband's and someone who worked for him briefly in Australia wanders up our street. We say our Covid hellos (Italians don't kiss each other any more, they do a knuckle thing) and we chat about life and he shows us he's solar panels instead of his etchings and his garden. He tells us because his sister is away, he won't plant this year. The daughter and I exchange a look. You see, since the daughter has become a lockdown gardener and is obsessed with all things seedy and earthy, she has been asking if I knew of someone here who would let her help them garden, as little vegetable patches spring up all over this town on the 1st of May. Here is her opportunity. He is thrilled that someone will help and look after the garden if he goes away. Then he comes and carries the paint up four flights of stairs. He is slight and wiry and 74. Mountain men.
I close the door and am in wonder, I truly believe my late husband is with us on this journey and that he helps with everything he can. I remember after we got our visa appointment, we got into our car and in the next car, there was a little plastic sunflower nodding on the dashboard. The sunflower is linked with my husband and daughter in a very special way. I know he was sending us a message. This trip will be very interesting I believe.
PS. A bit of a vision board for the place.
Comentários