Preparing for Winter

Autumn activities include roof painting. In Tunisia, a country with a warm climate, houses have high ceilings and flat roofs, which require maintenance every several years.

The "before" state of my roof. Hmmm, looking rather distressed. Shabby is not always chic.










<--And the brilliant "after."

Whew! Finished just as clouds blew in.












A family member's roof got treatment as well:

Man, am I glad that job is done so I don't have to worry about a leaky roof this winter! 

April Zoomed By...

My day job consumes my day, and I instantly fall asleep with needle in hand in the evening...sigh...

However, art and creativity still structure my world. I added a frame with a quotation to a painting of my gate in my journal.







I attached the frame at the top of the page.
































We took a short trip to Beja and Tabarka in northern Tunisia at the beginning of April. 



Everything was Spring green.

I felt like I was in another country. We sat in on an academic conference while there. Lovely trip.

And so, April zoomed by...

Out & About

On errand days interesting subjects cross my path.

   





I try to catch people in movement.







Then there are the buildings, neighborhoods, and streets that look so different from where I grew up in Oregon.










Traffic presents challenges: we drove behind a shovel contraption (no idea what it is called these days--is it still a steam shovel?).



And our favorite small restaurant always has interesting possibilities.

The Beach, 2: Memories of Summer

Two activities keep me attentive to the moment when I go to the beach--stitching and sketching. 

The landscapes and the colors under the Tunisian sun are enticing

And the gardens are bewitching.

People-watching entertains me. We see lots of Russian tourists basking in the sun for hours, as if they will never see it again once they return home (this may be true).

A child's drawing of women served as a background for a sun-bather. I liked the contrast.

Usually, I have to sketch rapidly ...and then I turn the page.











Contour sketches without looking too much at the paper fill my pages.












Quite possibly, palm trees are my favorite subject.

In the meantime...

Saturday Evening

My current organize-and-finish spree to end 2016 has brought me some clarity of thought and forced me to focus. I joined SAQA (Studio Art Quilt Associates) finally (should have done that years ago) and I'm now prospecting for art galleries for a solo show. 
So last Saturday evening found Mr. M. and me at the lovely Galérie Saladin in Sidi-Bou-Saïd, run by Ridha Souabni. We attended the vernissage of a Tunisian painter, Ahmed Souabni.

Sketching in a museum or at an exhibition helps me remember the event and I always learn something about line, color, and subject matter. 

So I whipped out my small sketchbook and ball point pen and sat in front of "Quo Vadis" (shown above),  which has spectacular movement and a beautiful use of color laid down in wide swaths. At home, I did a color study with colored pencils to appreciate the work.







Mr. M. posed with "Le départ des pêcheurs" ("The 
Departure of the Fishermen").

All in all, a pleasant evening.

Heat and Buses

Public transportation in Paris is wonderful. Efficient and reasonably priced, it can take you just about anywhere in the region. When public transportation employees go on strike, traffic becomes so snarled that is nearly impossible to go anyplace.

The French recently sold some of their used buses, without air conditioning, to Tunisia. Now in France they probably don't need A/C, but, in Tunisia, temperatures are usually over 90°F for most of the summer, and into autumn as well. How do we solve this problem? Simple solution: Open the windows and doors and drive faster.

That's exactly what I noticed when I took the bus a few weeks ago. Certain employees of the bus company get the choice spot of standing by the open doors. Never mind if the driver should hit the breaks suddenly--heat trumps safety.

Fortunately, it rained last Wednesday; it was a glorious thunderstorm that washed away months of dust. The temperature dropped below 90°F. Autumn in Tunisia is a pleasant time of year. Hot weather will continue, but, it will be less extreme. They may even close the doors on the buses... 

Sea, Sand, & Sun, 2

Or should the title be "Bake on the Beach"? Because that is my interpretation of beach hotels in Tunisia. 

The large hotel we stayed in caters particularly to Russian and Eastern European clients (looking very pink or red after a day on the beach), although we met a few French clients, and Tunisian families came as well.

The Tourism field is truly interesting to study. Last year I taught Tunisian students about the possibilities of tourism (medical tourism, sports tourism, cultural tourism, etc.), however, with the rise of terrorism and fear, much has been lost. Here's how things look today: groups are flown in, escorted to the hotel where everything is provided (meals, drinks, entertainment, spa facilities, etc.) and they never leave this closed world until it's time to take the plane home. 

In addition, tourists paying with Euros are paying less for the trip and stay in a hotel than Tunisians pay for their stay (no airfare included). 

This is a sad state of affairs. Although some hotels seem to have plenty of clients, this does not seem to benefit the community, except for a few jobs (mostly low grade). The restaurants, markets, and craft stores that depend on tourism are struggling, many have closed or else they have cut back on personnel. 
Cultural institutions are struggling as well. The day I visited the Bardo Museum in Tunis with my grandkids, there were maybe six visitors, whereas they used to have crowds of at least two or three thousand a day. There was nobody at the wonderful Uthina ruins, when we had our yearly visit.

True, tourists can spend a peaceful vacation on a nice Mediterranean beach, however, they learn nothing of Tunisia and do not get to know any Tunisians. Appreciating a certain cultural and intellectual level, I can only comment with a caricature--just drawing what I see...

Sea, Sand, & Sun, 1

Grandma's Bootcamp always includes a stay at a Mediterranean beach where campers swim, play, and even go on a parachute ride. 
It's only an hour away from home, and although I drag my feet (I do not tan, I tomato), the few days at the beach provide a break in routine and everyone is happy. I always take plenty of self-entertainment.

This year was exceptional. While I sat sketching people at breakfast with a swimming pool in the background, a Frenchman said "I've always wanted to do that. May I sit down?" And so, I met J.-C., a Parisian, and we chatted about Paris, materials, and techniques. 

We sketched every morning after breakfast in an idyllic setting (no overflowing garbage at this hotel). 


J.-C., who incorporates his own cartoons into his job, "signed" my sketchbook with a delightful drawing.--> 






Sketching seems to be a good conversation starter at a beach hotel. How much time can you spend on a beach and not be bored silly? People would come talk with me, including kids. 



Donia (in the middle), who likes to draw, "signed" my sketchbook as well.--> 




Truth to tell, I only got salt water on me once, but, I did do a few laps in the pool before breakfast everyday. The kids loved the beach and the pools. Mr. M, whose skin had a grayish tint after his hospital ordeal, came home with a lovely tan and a smile, a picture of good health. Guess I can't complain!

It's All in the Finishing Touches

We went to a restaurant, Fondouk al-Attarine, in the Medina (the old city) in Tunis. It was such an astoundingly pleasant surprise that I had to think about why that was. The ancient building had been renovated and the restaurant had a traditional Tunisian theme done with such good taste that it made one regret the fine craftsmanship of the past. The food was very good, the waiters were pleasant, the background music (Fairouz songs) was low, the ambient temperature was perfect, the restrooms were impeccably clean. I had a bit of time to sketch and then, inspired by the sepia colors, painted a bird statuette the next day.

Leaving the Medina, I went home still pondering. After ruminating on the experience for a couple of days, I finally figured it out. Everything had been carefully planned, every detail from the glass ceiling and ventilation to the tablecloths, and everything was finished. I haven't seen anything well-finished in Tunisia in a l-o-n-g time. The difficulty of finding qualified tradespeople defies reason. My own walls are cracking, but the masons we find never show up; there are moldings that need finishing, but the carpenter is too "busy"; the list is long.

Since the "revolution", it requires superhuman willpower to maintain anything in Tunisia. For the moment, I can highly recommend Fondouk al-Attarine if you are in the neighborhood. 

However, if they can maintain their standards, I will suspect that they are superhuman, or possibly from another planet...

Stanley

Stanley found his way into my sketchbook.

My 8-year-old granddaughter had to color him and cut him out for a school assignment and send him off into the world. She needs pictures of Stanley that include someplace interesting and with friends--otherwise, why not just photoshop Stanley in front of the Eiffel Tower?

My husband was enlisted when we went to the beach town of Hammam-lif (Tunisia) on errands. He grumbled at first about people making fun of us, especially all the unemployed men sitting in the cafés. I shrugged and got a shot of Stanley with the Grand Hotel (now abandonned) in the background, which dates to the colonial period. 

Just beyond it is the beach, and in the other direction, there is a mountain.

Stanley visited a relative's grave at the cemetery with us.

And the nice lady in the bakery got to know Stanley as well.

Once we got into it, my husband had all kinds of ideas. 

We had a fun morning with Stanley.

Holding the Line

Determined to give my grandchildren a day at the beach, I set off with them to Hammamet (Tunisia). Even though the wind whipped the waves around and blew sand in my journal, I watched them play in the water as I started a small sketch...

Then my daughter called: "Go home right now. There's been a terrorist attack an hour away from you."

That was that. Home we went. The news was not good. A man with a kalashnikov ended the lives of 39 tourists on a beach in Sousse. Panic all around. Most tourists got on the next plane home. The British government sent a team to follow the investigation and then told all British citizens to leave Tunisia. I can't blame them: government authority has been seriously undermined since the revolution, plus the long border with Libya is difficult to control and arms are flowing into Tunisia. An Etat de siège (State of Emergency) was declared until the end of August. The beach towns that depend on tourism now look like ghost towns.

In addition, the extent of corruption makes the enforcement of the law difficult and the judicial system suffers. Tunisians appear to be losing sight of the concept of civic responsibility. Garbage collection and refuse dumping continue to be problems. I regularly put on gloves and old work clothes to pick up garbage in front of my house--three big bags last time.

I remain committed to living in Tunisia, however, many unanswered questions now hang in the air. We take things a day at a time. We are holding the line...for the time being.

The Inner Critic Speaks

The inner critic has been speaking loudly lately with the usual "This is the worst thing you've ever done." Most of the time, this does not disturb me because I know how to get beyond it, but, today, I think she's right.

I could not bend my mind around the inkblot assignment for Sketchbook Skool. Hated it. At first there was a face in the inkblots (left side). Hated it.  I was going to rip it out, but instead, kept going with some doodling. Hated it. I added gray watercolor on one side. Hated it. I added more line work. Hated it. I added some reddish scribbles. Hated it.




Then I realised that I was really describing my state of mind because I am battling corruption and filth on personal and professional levels. All the ugly, poisonous words poured out. I put the face back in-- maybe my face in the Acid Rain? Possibly. 

Then some friends came over and the mists dissipated for awhile. I went back to the paper towel with the original inkblots, sketched lightly onto it, and glued it on the right side. 





Maybe the worst is when slyness is equated to intelligence. Or maybe the worst is when people just don't think. Or maybe the worst is when people you know shrug and say they don't want to get involved...think of the consequences.

Well, yes, think of the consequences...

And yet, my blessings are many. I will not give up.

Such is the lesson of bad art.