The whole side

 

Here it comes: "my" palmtree with the church San Guiseppe, the church of the fisherman.

Sundown

 

And this is my favourite palmtree, just aside the church of Arma di Taggia. The sun, which rises behind the agave in the morning goes to sleep in this palmtree every day.

Sunrise over the sea

 

You already know: this is my favourite agave. The winter this year makes her look a little dishevelled.

The country of flowers

 

I´m always a little jealous in Italy: why have they so much more beautifull flowers than we have?

The real blue

 

Italy is the country of the real blue. Do you know the story of THE REAL BLUE of Anna Seghers? How an artist struggles to get the real blue colour? I say: go to Italy and look into the heaven and unto the sea. And here comes the story:

THE REAL BLUE, BY ANNA SEGHERS.

It´s the story of the artist, who does not stop wandering and waiting, until he has found the perfect form.

Mexico during the Second World War: The potter Benito sells his goods at the market of Mexico City. His customers buy his dishes because of the special deep blue of his pattern.

Suddenly, however, the blue color no longer available. It's war, and the products of the company, which produced the blue color, were no longer sold. He could use another color instead of "his" blue, but for him this is out of question. Because he loves... he loves the deep blue, the "real" blue, that opens the heart.

An old woman told Benito, that his cousin Rubén, living far away in the mountains, had found silver mine rocks, which - roasted and milled - produce just this blue colour, which he needs.

So Benito sets off on his way; he moves by rail, bus and on foot through half of Mexico to the silver mine, it is an arduous, long journey.

The potter Benito meets on his journey always people, who help him - with a handful of rice, tortilla, a sip of water and good, but sometimes confusing advices.

At the end of his long journey, he finds Rubén, retreated far away in the mountains, where he has withdrawn, to be safe from imitators. Rubén realy had found the way to produce "the true blue", but he is wary against Benito. He can not believe, that only the love for the color is his motivation.

In the end, Benito wins the confidence and the heart of Rubén. With a hard work, he can start to produce his blue color, until he has a full box of the magic blue powder. He is relieved and can start his way home...

Italian cats

 

Of couse, in Italy, there were not only old lazy-bones, there were also young cats...

What is the résumé?

What I like best of my father, is that he was a coward.

For him, it did make a sense to die for the Führer or the third Reich. So he ran away, whenever he could. He was a little Schweijk. He liked the campagne in france, but he did not like the winter in russia. He survived the bloody war with many tricks. Only 10 percent of the 1917 generation survived war. He did. And so he is the best and only father I have.

The cyber grave

If he dies, these pictures will always make me remember him.

Farewell father, if you drink your last grappa in the Jollybar in Arma, one place where you loved to be. These photos will probably last longer than your body.

He will never see it...

Of course, he will never see these pictures in the internet. He already did not manage to work with a mobile phone, so no chance he will handle a computer. But the pictures of his last trip shall last in the deepth of the electronic world...forever.

All the truth

That is my father. He is 91 years now. Born in 1917. I will not suppress that he is weak, invalid and sometimes not very beautifull. But in these conditions he travelled with me to italy. I wounder who of us will do that with 91 years?

The last trip

As I said: I will make my father eternal now by showing him in the internet.

The internet is eternal!?

People say, that the internet is eternal. Every word and every picture once in the internet will stay forever!? Well, first of all. what is eternal? Even our galaxy is not eternal. In two billion years it will be swallowed by the adromeda fog. And the internet? How long will it last? 20 years? 30 years?

Nevertheles I will use the eternaty now: for my father.

Excuse to all atheists...

 

So many churches today... but they collect the lights of the region. Now we´re at the boarder of Italy and France. I go for a little shopping in Menton and say good night (-:

once again

 

Sorry this photo I show you once again... because of the mediterranian colours.

the new street

 

Oh no, Italy is not always beautifull, but always impressing. By the way: this is the modern equivalent to "my street". Build five hundert years later.

The market

 

It´s another way of buying in the market. You compare, you smell, you take the fresh wares in the hand, you batgain... it´s another feeling than in the supermaket.

the country of fruits

 

Of course, italy is not only the country of flowers but also the land of fruits and vegetables.

The strange mix

 

To be true again, Italy is not beautifull everywhere.The lovely costa del fiori is spoiled with thousands of glass greenhouses. But anyway there is something special abou italy: the mix. Italy is a wonderfull mix of beauty and uglyness, of young and old, of lazy and busy, of rich and poor, of harmony and devastation, of lovely nature and ecocide, of build-up and decay, of history and presence... It´s the perfect chaos... but it functions.

My favourite agave

 

Here my streets passes my favourite agave. I photograph it every year, with never ending passion.

Land marks

 

The churches are also landmarks. For tourists, travellers and fisherman, far on the sea.

Artist Land

 

To be true: Beside the trees and flowers also some artists recaptured the ruins..

Nature wins

 

Bussana Vecchia was destroyed by a heavy earthquake the 23.rd february 1887. But flowers and trees grow over the ruins.

earthquake

 

Even in the earthquake region flowers recapure their place.

the power of the church

 

Still today, people live in "their" church and decorate it with personal enthusiasm on happy holidays.

Mental aid

 

Of course, in that time travelling was dangerous. Disease, robbery and outrageous tollkeepers were the plagues of every traveller and merchand. So people needed mental aid. Still many religious chorals sing along this road, here gregorian chants.

smiling angel

 

Of course, "my" street passes by a lot of churches and angels. In the middle age, that was mental patroll station for the travellers.

Over hills and valleys

 

My favourite street passes through towns and villages, through macchia and mountains. Here through a little village of flower peasants.

Up and down

 

As the road was not made for cars but for mules, it goes up and down, often full of nooks and crannies, full of interestings outlooks.