December 12, 2005

Monday morning. A line up to the receptionist at TOROC (Turin Olympic Committee), wall to wall puffy coats and scarves and we hear English spoken, must be the VANOC contingent but I don’t recognize anyone. Paolo F arrives to escort us upstairs and we meet familiar faces again: Giorgetta, Allessandro, Paolo S and Ray. All figure in the success (or failure!) of our project in various ways. I present Giorgetta our invitation and she lights up seeing it, we pass muster with the proper logos and their placement. Ray is brokering our insurance, Paolo S the arrival of the shipping container and customs. Travellers checks, I say, and the woman in accounting frowns, shakes her head, says, “No” in that firm Italian way which means simpply, “fact”. Non. Cash. Hmmm. Paolo points down the street a few blocks and we are booted unceremoniously into the cold. An extra half our of our time, a 20 dollar fee to cash them and we arrive to pay for insurance, only to find that everyone has gone out for lunch!



The bad news is: high winds in Genoa, and there’s no telling when the container will be unloaded. Gord departs for Fenestrelle for his production meeting at 3 pm, and I stay on for a press meeting with Barbara at 5:15. Jaz and I walk the streets of Torino, our faces peering into a street map. We find Piero’s recommended “Barista et Milano”, (our rendez vous location for the press meeting), an elegant bar which Gord and I visited our first time in Torino. It’s closed, and then darkness of dusk descends on the city. We’re in the Piazza di Castello, whose shops are lit, designed for Christmas. My cell phone rings, it’s Barbara.