It was warm, warm, warm today, weather to die for, but a nerve wracking complication. Little children in the church, Alessandra’s class! Gord began flooding the substructure. He’s getting ready to make the huge floor paintings. I've never seen the church so neat and tidy.



Al arrived this morning. Everyone else was at the church when he handed me his heavy bags out the back door of the bus and we dragged them down the street in the middle of a glorious day. We tore into them at the apartment as if opening a treasure chest: the banners, the scarves, Christmas mail from home, vitamins, invitations, Glenn Gould...! Thank you Al! (and Nancy and Donna back home, who helped pack the bags and gathered the stuff!!)

By the time we got to the chiesa, the schoolchildren were crowding around the paintings. We had invited Alessandra's class.



Alessandra, Sylvia and Egedio’s daughter, the beautiful eight-year-old who cheers us up with her smiles every night while we have supper at Meizoun.



I looked around at the grins on everyone’s faces as the children each picked up a piece of ice from the floor. Peter, whose idea it was to invite the children, was on a scaffold covering the windows against the light.



That beautiful circular window has to be blacked out. It's just too hot in the church. On Sunday, no cars are allowed to drive in Torino because of the pollution! What about buses and taxis? I am supposed to going the opening of BC Canada House.



Patrick has taken over communication with Sylvia now that we’re off site. Everyday we go to the bank machine and withdraw. The lack of “carte di credito” is nerve wracking, and extremely inconvenient, but they all want cash. For everything. It’s not so bad facing it once a month when you’re ready to open the envelope of bills and you prepare yourself mentally. . . .but everyDAY!



Tui Tui’s. The “other Alessandra” a twenty-something Italian beauty, was our guest tonite and the young guys crowded around her at the table. I called her “la principessa della cena”; she held court confidently, alternating between English, French and Italian. Her father, Raphaele, owns the apartment where Gord and I are now staying. I keep seeing the same people in the streets of Mentoulles, and I know them!

Al and I took the hour walk home in the dark woods on the path along the river with a flashlight; saw the fortezza stretching up the mountain under the stars. Mara kissed me on each cheek today!

Counting down . . .7, 6 . . . Inaugurazione... next Saturday!