It might sound like heresy to say this, but I keep going back and forth to Calimera because unending stretches of country roads filled with olive trees, of which there are plenty here, and nothing else bores me. I’m a city girl. I like the visual stimulation of walking through towns. I like looking at how people set up their gardens and what kind of fencing they use. I like looking at their doors, the colours, the materials – wood or metal, bronze or steel – and compare the distances from the street.
Doors interest me particularly so today I took pictures of Calimerian doors. This did not please some of the Calimerians who saw me doing it, however. Twice groups of people, who happened to be nearby instead of enjoying their siesta as they should have, objected.
What are you going to do with those pictures, Signora, a woman out of the first group of people cried out? Nothing, I just think the doors are pretty, I answered. Ah, she replied dubiously.
You’re not allowed to do that, shouted a fellow on another street as I stood about 100 feet away composing the shot. I didn't answer fast enough to suit him so the old fart started walking toward me and insisting I shouldn’t be taking pictures of people’s doors. Perche no? I shouted back. You need the owner's permission, he said.
Both my parents are Italian and so am I. I was born with genes that know precisely how to deal with the situation in which I found myself. I took the picture, I shrugged and I sauntered away, as if he hadn’t spoken.
Beats me what those people were worried about. Did they think I could steal their souls by taking pictures of the doors to their homes?
Some of the doors of Calimera.....
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| The start of the old road from Calimera to Martignano |
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