15 October 2009

my favourite boy

some classic Jess Mariano for y'all...and Rory is neatly in keeping with my 1940's fancy too!


-to learn the Charleston, it's just too good!

-colourful berets
-my Lulu Guinness umbrella that dear Mel surprised me with (swoon!)
-a new winter coat
-Greek pom-pom slippers to keep me cozy in winter
-those amazing 1940's-esque hairdos
-brown leather boots

-that I could be as awesome and funny as Barbra Stanwyck in 1941's 'the lady Eve'
(watch her deliver the most brilliant monologue; so many great lines!)

-booking my Christmas/New Years holiday to Hellas
-being able to hug my family, and my dogs
-back-issues of the exquisite Lula magazine
-a pinhole camera, a Lomo, a SLR camera, hell any film camera would do!
-a bottle-stopper
-an acoustic guitar
-some new glasses, preferably with lighter or coloured frames
(or these ones, 1950's butterfly frames called 'Betty Beige'..heaven!)

-iced vovo's
-using my time more constructively
-to be able to go to bed before midnight and avoid being zombified the next day at work...
-more music, always!
-that book I saw on French cheeses...drool

-never tiring of the Andrew Sisters in all those Abbott & Costello movies I loved

(I think I have a big crush on the 1940's right now...could think of worse things!)


Two hours on the train from London in October, and here I finally was...reunited with two lovely friends Megan & Michelle from Sydney in our sweet little apartment. Four days of Parisian pleasures, parks and art that ended with nibbling on a baguette and fromage in this very spot, magical Montmartre.

(I could get used to my new European life, it suits my disposition so!)

the invisible city...

I came back from Venezia a couple of weeks ago...but I'm still wandering around there in my mind. What struck me about the place was how familiar and comfortable it all felt.

As soon as I arrived and started walking over Calatrava's bridge, it was as if I knew where I was going, as if I'd walked there before...in fact the entire 4.5 days were like that, an overpowering sense of 'i know this place, it all makes sense, i feel right here' but I don't know why. Of course I had many moments of getting lost in the winding streets, but that is not a bad thing and it was a pleasure uncovering surprise corners of the city that I wasn't even seeking out.

Obviously having dreamed about it for so long has played a part, I was nervous because it could have easily been a dissapointment, or an anticlimax. But it really wasn't. It was as though the entire city and her people all came together in some grand consipiracy to make me completely blissful the entire time; every person I came in contact with, every time I needed help (particularly my last few hours, just barely making my flight) the Venetians came through with flying colours and generous personalities.

I can try and convince you that this is not me being delusional, and you may not believe me, but that's ok because you weren't in my shoes, a big part of me was suspicious and constantly kept waiting for something to go wrong, for something to be unsavoury or mediocre but it truly wasn't, not ever.

It helped that I stayed at a little B&B, I had keys to my own place in an area that was not inhabited by tourists. It helped that I dressed in my prettiest day dresses and did not act like a tourist, I'm sure it helped that obviously I look (and am!) Mediterranean and the Italians share so many similarities with the Greeks. Some cities and places just fit, they are a piece of the odd puzzle that is your personality, the pieces of which you will spend most of your life assembling into some order, and some pieces just take longer to place than others. Venice took me 27 years to place, but I am suprised that at ten years old, I already knew that it would fit.

I feel the same way about Venice as I do about Hellas and Jerusalem, I can see it so vividly in my mind, feel it, and it hurts when I think about how I am not there right now.

I didn't have a chance to read any Calvino during my stay there, but I did start reading it on the plane home...and I cried, because in every sentence Venice was reflected back to me, even though Marco Polo was trying his best to disguise it as something else;

“There is still one of which you never speak.”
Marco Polo bowed his head.
“Venice,” the Khan said.
Marco smiled. “What else do you believe I have been talking to you about?”
The emperor did not turn a hair. “And yet I have never heard you mention that name.”
And Polo said: “Every time I describe a city I am saying something about Venice.”

I'll be back, of course...I'm grateful that I had the chance to vi
sit her at all, I'm grateful that so many things about that little girl really haven't changed at all, because these things make me so happy and I hope I can hold on to them long after I complete the puzzle.


(my Venezia photos are here and my Biennale photos are here )

you might also like:

Related Posts with Thumbnails