Almost noon. Trying to be philosophical, otherwise, what is the point? But today nothing comes. Gord drove the two hours to Fenestrelle again, to caretake his work. And although the narrative of our adventures takes us away from the chiesa at the fortezza, I am going to post photos everyday of the show, so you can see as much of it as possible. It is so large and many-layered and in the end, it will melt.



Meanwhile, la vie continue. The car was broken into and our cell phone stolen. This is somewhat of a disaster, as all the publicity announces our contact # with that cell phone. At the hospital Jaz lay on the bed, waiting for an injection of cortisone, and we both wanted to consult Gord. But the phone was busy, busy, busy the thieves wracking up long distance calls at our expense. I didn’t get the insurance, either, back when we ordered the phone.

In the midst of it all, something wonderful emerged, an experience that only happens when you travel, when you’re outside your comfort zone, when you need the help of others. Yesterday we spent the day at Molinette, a huge hospital across town. Dr. Emmanuele Siano, who had examined Jaz the night before, agreed to meet us at 8:30 at the gate. He ended up ushering us through the Italian medical/hospital system because we couldn’t speak the language! We saw four or five doctors; each one coming to the same conclusion after everything was explained, and after they saw his rash. Jaz is allergic to penicillin. I was right to be worried when the rash emerged, but we are lucky his body responded with a rash instead of a swelling windpipe. He’s here, we’re here, for one more day.



So we got to know the doctor while waiting for our number to come up, or for our place in line to arrive at the front, or for the papers to be filled out. He loves travelling, he speaks English because he thinks it is more important to learn it than french or italian, he wants to come to Canada. We met his fellow doctors and interns, remarked on the beauty of women and in the end, he invited us to have supper at his house. The whole thing cost 18 euros and two cab rides. The hospital was old, and it looked like everyone in Torino decided to visit it that day. The doctor himself submitted willingly to the bureaucracy with a kind of optimistic resignation. We spoke English and French and when necessary, I listened to Italian. In the end, neither Jaz nor I could imagine this kind of thing happening in Canada, but who knows? We felt so lucky and so guilty.

JC is at Canada House today, installing the ice plate for the logo. Jaz, lying around trying to get better. Me, the slide show for the big party on the 8th.