Peter, who is a fine art print maker on Granville Island by profession, seems to have taken to the job of polishing up the ice; he rubs off the frost and shines the pieces to sparkling. (Peter wears in green in past photos, he doesn’t like to pose for pictures). Erik, one of the 'cubs' who mixes colors and pours the paint, has introduced the idea of the ‘Chart of Shame’, for number of paintings accidentally smashed, and JC and Peter are at the top. JC has broken 15 pieces! Yesterday Peter broke an exceptionally beautiful one. Gord seems not bothered by it at all; he uses everything and he acknowledges the here-today-gone-tomorrow nature of the medium.



Today Mara’s office is closed, so -- to Sestriere for internet. Patrick & I get there: it doesn’t work! No explanation. Agggggh! I’ve got the opening press release, the programme for the opening, Gord’s potential exhibit at BC Canada House -- press communications, all written up on my laptop, can’t send them! Plus the blog. Patrick picked up a card for his Italian cell phone but couldn’t activate it. Agh! At 1 oclock, after 30 minutes on a filthy computer at Flower Power the senora announced closing! for three hours! Aggggh! The simplest things in North America: a cell phone and internet.



On the other hand, where do you find this in North America? Here, generations have lived in these buildings, the young have become old walking these steps.

Out the window, I see blue Torino 2006 banners against white snow. I'm on a bus around hairpin turns on the winding alpine road down from Sestriere. You can see that the Olympics are almost here: fences being constructed, bleachers at the foot of the mountain and carabinieri, (policemen) lots of them, everywhere in all sorts of different uniforms. Still no new snow. But today clouds on the peaks. This is Pragelato, where the ski jump competitions will be held.



I met the French ski team at lunch! My first omelette in a month; we witnessed the sous chef yelling at a table of guests - “e un artist!” and hasty, righteous Italian for: “if you don’t like it, go to another restaurant”. A lot of bluff here, Italians love to talk talk to each other with raised voices at the same time, much hand waving and arm movement. In these stand-offs, the customer is rarely right.

We’re waiting for Jeff to arrive from Torino. Patrick twisted his ankle and walked from Fenestrelle to Mentoulles -- on the highway! Maybe the laundry is dry today? My cough continues ... strictly because it’s so dry here.