day off and on

Today is my day off, no painting, no "real work". It is market day. I didn't need anything, didn't have the energy to be sociable, but I made myself go to be a regular shopper because that is part of living here.

As I approached the market I saw a friend who speaks Greek, French, Italian, but not a word of English. Being rather too tired to struggle in Italian today, I didn't draw her attention to me.

I made my two small purchases, the first more important than the second. I bought some parmigiano from a stall I don't often pass, haven't bought from there before.

I'm a cautious shopper, when shopping alone. There is always the danger that a stall holder who doesn't know me might like to extract a tourist dollar or three. He cut the amount I indicated from the huge round of cheese. I noted the per kilo cost and carried it home to weigh and check. The result would determine whether or not I shopped there again. I am pleased to say that, give or take a little for my maths and scales accuracy, the price was correct. I will buy from him again.

The second was a spontaneous purchase of casual summer shoes (5 euros!) I can't decide whether they are fun and trendy or just plain ugly, but I am thinking "fun" for now.

The same friend was in the same spot, still chatting. She greeted me warmly at the same time another was asking me about my Easter. I told him that I had missed my children at Easter and he agreed that Easter was all about having family home together, making sure I understood by cradling his arms to indicate togetherness. I suspect my other friend overheard. She invited me to come with her, she had errands to run in another town. I dithered, thinking of Zacchi in the cold and the work from yesterday still not finished. She looked as though she really meant the invitation. Why not go? Grazie, thankyou, I joined her.

She is a wonderful musician. We talked about Easter, religion and music, and while she did her errands I listened to the wonderful choral Easter CDs she had in the car. It is true, music fills the soul. I didn't know how much I had missed that kind of music until I heard it again. Next Easter I will make sure that I am in the church where she is choir mistress and organist. It has the best choir around. I think I needed music, more than food, last Sunday.

She is very patient with me, searching for simple ways to explain things to me. She is an independent spirit herself, and likes my courage in moving to the other side of the world. (It was neither brave nor difficult, it felt right, like coming home, so the esteem is not really deserved). She turned down a chance for a music career in America because she couldn't contemplate life outside this village. Her talent is not wasted, it just reaches a much smaller audience here.

I know some of my friends don't agree with my spiritual beliefs while others think I am quite crazy. Usually I keep my beliefs to myself. But today, having received an email mentioning angels (jokingly but not unkindly) I am challenged to say that I am sure it was not by chance that she invited me to go with her this morning. It was exactly what I needed, music, language, and renewed and more meaningful contact with a wonderfully talented friend. Whoever it is who watches over me is doing a pretty good job of providing everything I need at exactly the right time!

I came home to an excited Zacchi, rewarded for his solitude with orange cake and a shared lunch. Yes, he really is Italian. He ate all the oily cooked tomato skins I offered him. Carefully licked them out from between the dog biscuits. What do you make of a dog that prefers cooked carrots, pasta and tomato to dogfood? I suspect he too has lived here before.