Posted on 07 October 2006

For the first time since arriving the second time this summer, I sit at Les Arcades sipping a morning cafe creme. I have been reading, writing, talking to Rob who arrived late Monday. He is still having difficulty with jet-lag and, most likely, work-lag. Though, at times, his work seems more hellish than hollywood glamour, especially the last film, there are benefits. He can now take three months off and write and read and do what he pleases, including escaping to the small island of Skopelos to celebrate his sixtieth birthday.

We drove Susan and David to the airport on Thursday. They will have explored Athens and probably be wandering Evia at this moment and will meet up with us most likely on the ferry to Glossa to be met by Helen and Angela, her cousin from Montreal. I had so hoped a number of friends and family could join us for the celebration but unfortunately timing is bad for most. So though the number will most likely be small, I still hope it will be a joyous rite of passage for Rob. I have a trick or two up my sleeve to help make this happen.

What else can I say? For the last few days the weather has been glorious – sun shining on the red stones of buildings, making me happy to be here, content with my lot. Yesterday, Rob and I went down to the small store at the foot of the village and bought a new wood stove that will be installed during our absence. The owner, Medina, has promised that it will deliver seven times the heat of an electric heater – plenty warm enough to heat one floor of the house and perhaps even two. Thank goodness. We nearly froze last winter though Rob and I agree that this is really not a place to live year round. Without a shining sun, the villagers close their shutters and all appears grey and lifeless for the winter months.

I am reading my second novel about the region (or close enough) and the Cathar religion. This one is interesting in that the main character is a historian who has written a book about famous or rather, infamous, females (i.e. Marie Antoinette, Mary Magdalen, Salome) whose actions have been misinterpreted by recorders of history – most often by men who have their own agenda, sometimes sinister, and sometimes anti-women. I feel a little stupid, perhaps naive would be a better word, especially since I write, and know that events are often rearranged and exaggerated for the sake of a story, thinking that historical texts are always accurate and written with integrity…

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