A STUDY IN BLUE.

Putaruru Press, Volume VII, Issue 269, 3 January 1929, Page 2

A STUDY IN BLUE.

Dense was not the word for that crowd, but, determinedly, we pushed our way through. A religious bazaar in >• a well-nigh forgotten Greek village is not an every-dav occurrence! The term (^religious ’ ’ should be accepted with reservations On the very outskirts of the hamlet stood a church, wedged in between two rocks, and blue spirals of incense vanished in the seagreen shadows thrown by the cliffs. But in that winding sloping street, with its crazy houses, its rows of frantically erected stalls and booths, little room was left for prayer! All was buying and selling and haggling and shouting and —very occasionally—singing. What Teligion did come our way was interpreted in terms of blue-tinted statuary, gaudy beads (a rather exaggerated imitation of sapphires) and coloured paper-ikons, with generous backgrounds of wildest turquoise A rickety stall, surmounted by a blm*keeled carved ship with hyacinth sails flapping in the wind, attracted us. You could bqy everything. Crudely sculptured gods and goddesses, lengths of peasant-made lace, sticky Greek sweets, really gorgeous necklaces in all shades, a cigar box with a boldly painted Madonna on the lid, a flower vase of lovely shape and impossible colour- . . . A very clever woman sold these -things! She talked people into buying what they could never want. She argued" us into buying what they could never want. She argued us into taking the atrocious cigar box while we munched her over-sugared Greek sweets and pressed closer to the wall to avoid the crowd. SJie told us that her booth t contained the seven wonders of the / 'world, and we were not at all sure that

she was not the eighth. She talked and gestured like one. “See these shells, ladies? Ah! but they are lovely. They are as old as the lonian Sea. If you will buy this ikon, you will never be shipwrecked. Blessed by Saint Nicholas, ay, so it was. So cheap, too. Now, what say you about this necklace? Madonna wore it when she lived on the island. They might tell you she did not, but I know better. ’’ We bought the necklace and the hideous shells. Splendidly, dark-eyed sun-burned, blue-aproned, blue-shawled, the woman compelled you to listen. In between the cascades of her talk, I wedged in a question: “Why so much blue about, mother? ’’ She gave a broad smile. “Ah, lady! It is right that you should come to me with these questions. Why, the Holy Mother wore a blue cloak when she was carried up to heaven, and it has been a blessed colour ever since.’ ’ Somehow this answer worked a magic link between the haggling, shouting .crowd aad the tiny church beyond, its blue walls locked in between the grey cliffs. V.O-S.