Kat Eye Studio

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The Story in the Rooftops

There is a story in the rooftops of Dubrovnik. A history, there for the eyes to see. Not the history of hundreds of years ago, but of less than two decades. A story from the Croat-Serb conflict of 20 years ago.

Shortly after Croatia declared independence from Yugoslavia, Dubrovnik was beseiged for seven months as part of the conflict, in 1991-1992. The idea was that breaking Dubrovnik would break the spirit of the Croatian conflict. But Dubrovnik was never broken, and neither was the spirit of the Croats. This city survived, as it has survived for centuries, even against major powers like the Venetians. And now it is rebuilt, the damaged rooftops and streets repaired to invite visitors once again.
So Dubrovnik has an interesting look, because of all of this, with most of the centuries-old buildings sporting new rooftops. You can see the difference between the ones from long ago and the ones that are brand new. You can see the spirit of the people who survived and defended their city in modern times. You can hear it in the stories of the people you talk to… from the restaurant owner who tried to teach us to make a whistle with our hands “like they used to communicate in the war” to the owner of the apartment we rented who told us how the old aqueduct system bringing water to the town worked even during the conflict.

There is pride in these stories, pride in the rooftops. They respect the history of the town, and it becomes intertwined with these recent histories and experiences. In some places, you see where they tried to repair the roofs with as many old tiles as possible, combining them with new. It all becomes one continuous history.
And when you look out over the town, you get a visible reminder that conflict is not gone from our world. But it can end, people can rebuild and in the course of less than a lifetime go from besieged town to thriving tourist destination. Dubrovnik was a beautiful city, well worth the visit. But I think what I liked best, was hearing the story of the people who live there and reading the story in the rooftops.

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The Same but Different

Farmer’s Markets all over the world are the same aren’t they? Tables with yummy fruit and vegetables, fresh from the farm, and people who are part of their growing are selling them. In a way, the markets bring us closer together. Closer to our food, without it just showing up magically in a supermarket in the refridgerated section under flourescent lights, you get a better idea of where it’s coming from. Who is growing it. They also bring us closer together culturally, it’s a familiar experience to visit a market and see the day’s wares available to sell. It’s an equalizer, every one has to eat. And that food comes from the same place – the land, the sea.

But you also get to see the little differences. Maybe a fruit or vegetable or flower you aren’t familiar with. Maybe it’s mostly fish instead of other types of meat. The signs for the names or currency are different. Or in the case of this market in Split, Croatia, you see that each woman has a little table for their fruit and vegetables, all lined up in a row, instead of the big truckload farm stands. You see the women who look like they have worked the land for most of their life. The people who, by their existence, would ensure we would eat well here in this country.

Bringing me just a little closer to the place we are visiting. Markets are amazing things.

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You’ve gotta have your "Guys"

Today’s post is a bit more of a cultural lesson, something suprising we’ve learned about living in Italy. Many of the neighborhood businesses around are small family-run businesses. When you shop at the same place a few times, you find that you see the same people, and they get to know you. And a remarkable thing happens when they get to know you, they treat you like an old family friend. They give you discounts, freebies, extra items because you are a regular. And they become your “guys,” the ones that you know you can go to and get a warm welcome. You go back even if they don’t have the absolutely best food or the best prices, because you are part of things now.

Case in point: Today I went to the art store I always go to in Monza, Colorificio Manzoni, for some new paints and brushes. I first went to this store about a year ago when I wanted to start painting in acrylics. I knew nothing of painting in acrylics, even less of how to ask what I needed in Italian. My English-Italian dictionary was of little help. The owner called his son in (from home nearby, presumably) because he spoke some English and could help me. They got me hooked up, and I’ve been going to them ever since. They remember me every time, and now I can talk with them in Italian a bit and even know the names for what I want. And every time they add up my purchase, they knock off a few Euros. (Today I stole the paper just to prove it!) They’re my art guys.

This is not unique to this store or these guys, that’s what is amazing about it. This is Italy. We get heaping gelatos from our gelato guy, at least one size bigger than what we order because he piles it on top. Patrick gets free meat from the butcher at the local market because he knows he’s an American and wants him to try something new. Can you imagine that at your local Safeway? I can’t. In our giant box store, inventoried and always balancing American culture that just wouldn’t fly.

It’s just one of the amazing and wonderful things about Italy. I don’t think you could ever get this experience quite this way without living here, and it consistently amazes and delights me while also making me a loyal customer. So, if you ever find yourself in Monza, stop in at Colorificio Manzoni on Via Manzoni 54 and say hi to my guys.

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Nature’s Paintings

Reflections are one of my favorite things to photograph. They are like nature’s paintings. Sometimes realistic in the flat calm water, sometimes impressionistic in the breeze. They are never exact, since the surface that things reflect off affects the image whether in color or shape or orientation. Always beautiful, showing us a different point of view, when we stop to notice them.

On my last trip to Burano, I got lucky. It had rained all day, all the way on our trip to Venice, only to clear up shortly after we got there. By the time I got to the island the sky was mostly blue and the late afternoon sun was lighting up the colors. That was my first stroke of luck. The second was wandering over to the pretty, off the beaten path canal I found on my previous visit, only to discover it was completely empty. No boats of any kind, because they were working on the canal and had the ends blocked off.

Oh, what luck! What joy! To have all of this color, light and uninterrupted reflections to play with. Nature’s paintings, to capture with my camera.

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A Beautiful End

I take a break from my regular blog topics to say a few words in memory of our dear, sweet golden retriever Tasha who left this world yesterday in the arms of her second family in Colorado.

This was not a surprise, she was almost 14 years old and was having more and more physical problems. One of the hardest things we had to do when we came to Italy was leave her behind, knowing that she might not be there when we got back. We were all so very blessed that Patrick’s sister and her family wanted her to come live with them and be part of their family in Colorado.

Let me tell you a little bit about Tasha… Everyone loved Tasha. She was the most gentle soul you would ever meet. Always happy to be there for love and support, never demanding. Never once hurt or threatened another creature, even when annoyed by a toddler or a kitten or an alpha dog. She would just look at us with those big brown eyes that seemed to say “Seriously?” and stoically bear whatever life threw at her. Tasha patiently taught me to like dogs, and she was the first dog I ever truly loved. She was our first baby, coming to us as a 6 weeks old puppy in 1996, 5 years before our son Brandon was born.

Sometimes we might think that we are doing a favor to the animals in our life, by taking them in and loving and caring for them. That we are giving them a home. But really, they are the ones who are doing us the favor. They become part of our hearts, they make our home a home. Our animal companions are the ones who show us what unconditional love truly is. They teach us compassion. And they teach us how to grieve when they go, since their lives are so much shorter than ours.

So, Tasha I just want to thank you. For all that you gave to me, all that you taught me.

And Heather, Rob and Dylan, thank you so much for bringing Tasha into your home and loving her as much as we did for the last year and a half. For so amazingly dealing with the difficult end of her days when we weren’t there. You got the hardest part. Tasha was so lucky to have had two families in her life that loved her so much. We will be forever grateful to you.

Today I created this photo story to honor Tasha’s life. I wish I had her puppy photos, our canoe dog photos, more photos from her time in Colorado… but this is what I have today and now is when I need to do this. For me. For her. For anyone who knew her.

“It’s a beautiful end to a beautiful life…”

Tasha from Kat Sloma on Vimeo.

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A Beautiful End

I take a break from my regular blog topics to say a few words in memory of our dear, sweet golden retriever Tasha who left this world yesterday in the arms of her second family in Colorado.

This was not a surprise, she was almost 14 years old and was having more and more physical problems. One of the hardest things we had to do when we came to Italy was leave her behind, knowing that she might not be there when we got back. We were all so very blessed that Patrick’s sister and her family wanted her to come live with them and be part of their family in Colorado.

Let me tell you a little bit about Tasha… Everyone loved Tasha. She was the most gentle soul you would ever meet. Always happy to be there for love and support, never demanding. Never once hurt or threatened another creature, even when annoyed by a toddler or a kitten or an alpha dog. She would just look at us with those big brown eyes that seemed to say “Seriously?” and stoically bear whatever life threw at her. Tasha patiently taught me to like dogs, and she was the first dog I ever truly loved. She was our first baby, coming to us as a 6 weeks old puppy in 1996, 5 years before our son Brandon was born.

Sometimes we might think that we are doing a favor to the animals in our life, by taking them in and loving and caring for them. That we are giving them a home. But really, they are the ones who are doing us the favor. They become part of our hearts, they make our home a home. Our animal companions are the ones who show us what unconditional love truly is. They teach us compassion. And they teach us how to grieve when they go, since their lives are so much shorter than ours.

So, Tasha I just want to thank you. For all that you gave to me, all that you taught me.

And Heather, Rob and Dylan, thank you so much for bringing Tasha into your home and loving her as much as we did for the last year and a half. For so amazingly dealing with the difficult end of her days when we weren’t there. You got the hardest part. Tasha was so lucky to have had two families in her life that loved her so much. We will be forever grateful to you.

Today I created this photo story to honor Tasha’s life. I wish I had her puppy photos, our canoe dog photos, more photos from her time in Colorado… but this is what I have today and now is when I need to do this. For me. For her. For anyone who knew her.

“It’s a beautiful end to a beautiful life…”