Lynn's Comments: The markets in Bridgetown are a complex jumble of colourful stalls, filled to the brim with baskets and clothing and goods of all kinds. The problem is that the vendors all seem to carry the same things and so it becomes a choice of who to buy from, based on the friendliness of the vendor and the appearance of the stall. The vendors are all friendly, so your time in the market is spent wandering up and down the busy, narrow passageways just looking and enjoying everything. I was surprised to find a woodworker who had taken a number of discarded planks and had carved intricate local scenes on them. His was the only booth in which there was something original and new, so I started a conversation with him. He told me about his home and his family and he asked about mine. After awhile, I felt rather obligated to support him and his work so I decided to buy a carving. The one I liked best was about 1.5 feet wide and 3 feet high. He wrapped it in newspaper, we shook hands like old chums and I lugged it back to the hotel.
Lynn's Comments: Needless to say, my spouse did not see the artistic merit in the work I presented to him and asked that it be put somewhere "reasonable". The carving remained in our basement until we moved from Manitoba to Ontario - and I remember the lady who bought it at my mom-in-law's yard sale saying "how can you get rid of this - it's beautiful!" Goes to show you... that art is in the eye of the beholder.
Lynn's Comments: I told you about this carving. I did buy it and it went down to the basement where it remained hidden and neglected for years. When Rod was looking at retirement hobbies and decided on model railroading, we made an "office" in the section of the basement where the freezer and the nuisance stuff was stored - and the carving surfaced again, to be sold at my mother-in-law's yard sale.
Lynn's Comments: In Hamilton Ontario where I once lived, there was a curio shop which carried some of the most wonderfully hideous treasures I have ever seen. There were gold painted plaster statues, gaudy lump-covered lamps, plastic chandeliers, mass-produced paintings of deer beside waterfalls and copious decorative dust collectors of all shapes and sizes. One day, I saw in the window a huge image of the Virgin Mary. She was plastic and spray painted with garish blues, pinks and gold. Her hands were down at her sides, the palms open to the onlooker and she stood in a wide, deep, ornate plastic basin. Around the edge of the basin were a number of small metal "jets". She was a fountain, about 3 feet high. The best part was that from inside the base, sprouting up from beneath her feet were hundreds of tiny fiber optic tubes which formed a sort of glittering nest from which she rose. I was mesmerized. I went inside and asked the proprietor if I could see the Virgin in action. He complied. A small switch on the fountain's side made the water pour in small arcs into the basin. The fiber optic twinkling "bush" revolved about the Virgin's body and "Ave Maria" played on a music box from somewhere inside. She was marvelous. He explained that she was one of a kind, but that I could purchase her if I wanted to. I wanted to. I wanted to take her home and show her to everyone. I also wanted to give her to the right person - but I didn't know anyone who would truly appreciate this objet d'art as much as I did. Friends of ours were getting married. They were good sports and for a few moments I thought about how they would react if I gave her to them as a gift. I imagined them opening her up and trying to thank me for something they would never have imagined getting. The thing is - I liked them too much to do this to them, so I passed. It was too bad. But, at $300.00 she was also too expensive and so I abandoned her to the store window, wishing I'd at least had a photograph. I do have a mental picture, however, which is undoubtedly better than owning her.