What a difference a week can make.

What a difference a week can make.  After eight days in Barga, I have finally begun to settle down.  I was unaware of how fast I was moving when I first arrived last week and only now can I see the change in myself.  At first, the days seemed to fly by with only enough time to quickly glance at all of the sites surrounding me and mere moments spent lightly conversing with people I was meeting.  During this time, however, something happened.  I guess I fell into the proverbial black hole because I feel like I belong here now.  I return to my little apartment every evening to a plethora of e-mails from friends back in Toronto and begin the arduous task of writing back as they anxiously await news from my day…I think they all need to come to Barga as so many of them seem to be living vicariously through me right now.

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As this task is completed, I then begin to plan and scheme how I can possibly work my way back, at least for an extended stay, possibly to live here someday.  Barga is such an interesting blend of the past and the present, with a cast of characters who regularly find themselves at the local establishments for a glass of vino rosso.  Although I use the word cast, there is certainly no script that is followed.  The spontaneity of events that take place here in this charming place is fascinating.  I have been fortunate enough to partake of many of the afore mentioned evenings and find myself falling more and more in love with Barga and the people who live here.  Each person I have met and come to know (such interesting individuals) is only a part of the whole picture, but if just one of these people was not here, I think the dynamic would change dramatically.

I found for the first few days here I forced myself to paint, but soon decided that all I really wanted to do was wander around, meet people and try to let my eyes take in as much of this beauty as they possibly could.  So I put my paints and bushes aside for more important things, like just hanging out.  During this time, I have heard many stories, old and new, walked so many miles, yet still feel like I have seen so little, and sung and danced with my new friends to my absolute enjoyment.  Back where I live, you could no sooner wander into the local establishment (which by the way is always a Tim Horton’s donut shop) and just sit down to speak to a stranger as you would, at the very least, be considered intrusive.  We Canadians have the reputation of being so very nice and polite…and for the most part we are, but we can’t seem to cross that line that allows us to simply interact with others, unless we are already acquainted.  Such a shame and I can’t quite figure out how to single-handedly change that, just another thing for me to work on.

I woke up this morning with so many paintings in my head, I just couldn’t wait to gather up my sketch book and watercolours and head out to quickly chronicle as much information on paper and canvas as my fast little hands would allow.  I will try to capture the flavour of each place I sketch and upon my return home, transfer the feeling to larger pieces.  The problem is that everywhere I look, I see another painting.  There will not be enough time, of that I am sure.

Although the list is becoming longer with every moment spent here, I think the thing I find most endearing in Barga is the genuine kindness and generosity of the people.  I will not forget my new friends, nor will I ever forget Barga.  The spell has been cast.

The second article from the artist doris pontieri – the first article can be found here