Naina in Torino

A month or so ago I drove to Torino (Turin), Italy from Geneva. A three-hour long drive takes you through the Jura and then the Alps, where you cross over into Italy after driving through the Mont Blanc tunnel. The tunnel itself is about 8 miles long and while the French side was grey and overcast (being on the windward side of the mountain) Italy welcomed us wiht blue skies and perfect weather. I don't think I had ever realized the truism of the immutable fact that mountains create their own weather.


I am still not over the fact that in two hours I can drive through three countries. As usual Naina was along for the ride though I don't think the scenery impressed her much. Nor did Turin. While my mom-in-law went inside the church and the museum I relaxed by walking around the ruins of an old Roman amphitheater and then in the piazza, which was jam packed with people.

There was a protest against China: No Human Rights No Olympics. A fair trade I'd say? Of course, that's not going to happen. A group of kids went from speaking Italian to singing American pop songs with a perfect American accent and back again. The Rasta kids on the other side of the piazza were high on life and hash.

The piazza was full of families and their dogs. And, then there was Naina. At one time there was a group of at least a dozen kids and grown ups waiting to pet her. She was in seventh doggie heaven. I love the mutt but I can't understand the fascination my little husky/shepherd mix engenders in people. (Two weeks ago a woman in Geneva turned twice after passing us then wanted to know where she could buy one like her. She's a rescue from S. Central L.A I told her and I am not even sure if the rest of her litter mates look like her). A young Italian couple just came over to sit next to me so they could play with her. Two little babies sat on the ground and rubbed her belly. This is what a rock star's security guard must feel like...except of course for the tummy rubbing thing.

So, here you are, even though no one asked, Naina in Turin. Hey, you can't pet the shroud...but petting her is free though I am thinking of charging 2 francs per person. :-)

Fog

The fog this morning was a living thing. The headlights of my car barely made a dent, bouncing off the suspended droplets of moisture, diffusing the light, making it appear denser. The fog rolled slowly, blanketing out the world, following my car, faithfully. Staying close. Not letting go.

Like in a coccoon. Sounds deadened, senses deprived. I wonder if this is how someone in a coma feels. Experiencing the world, life from behind a gauzy fog, knowing that there is something out there. You have only to stretch out your hand to make contact. But you are held back by inability.

I focus my eyes to pierce the white, wispy clouds. I wonder what it will feel like to extend my hand into this other universe. Will I feel something solid or will there just be nothingness behind the glove of light moisture. Unfamiliar and frightening. What if there is nothing behind the fog?

Is it fear that holds us its prisoner? Fear that makes us remain in our coma? Deadened yet alive. Barely.