Thursday, 20 February 2014

To market, to market

To market, to market
To buy a fat pig
Home again, home again,
Jiggedy jig.

To market , to market
To buy a fat hog,
Home again, home again,
jiggedy jog.

Markets are alive and kicking here in Italy. Once a  week, there is a big market held in the nicest parts of the historic centres of Italian towns. When I first came to live here there would be crowds of old men from the countryside, chattering among themselves in the local dialect, putting the world to rights. You would catch snippets of their conversation as you walked by. La xe cussì, "that's the way it is". Se stava mejo quando che se stava pezo, "we were better off when we were worse off". Now you are more likely to see groups of women from Eastern Europe who work as badante ("carer") and who are joyfully chatting to each other in their own language, or family groups with mothers dressed in flowing robes. There is always a happy, busy atmosphere. Some of us eagerly looking for bargains and hopefully spotting a friend among the crowds so you can say those lovely words, prendiamo un caffè insieme?("shall we have a coffee together?"). Then you can retreat into the nearest bar and admire each others purchases.
My route to the market takes me over a bridge, and the water level of the river beneath can dramaticaaly rise if it rains heavily. We all stand looking into the fast flowing water, staring down into the murky depths and hope it doesn't rise any further. Other times the water level will drop very low, sandbanks will appear and the ducks congregate there to enjoy the sun. On the bridge I will often meet people I know who are on their way home, clutching beautiful plants for their balconies or a roast chicken for lunch. Today I bought a mimosa, it's delicate yellow flowers reminded me that it will soon be Il giorno della donna, "Women's day". It is on the 8th March and it is traditional to give women a sprig of mimosa.
I asked the stall holder if she thought I would be able to cut some from my new plant. "Oh no" she said "keep it for yourself."


2 comments:

  1. Oh it sounds delightful. I used to enjoy having a brioch most weekends in Pasadena (California)sitting in a lovely little Italian place watching the world pass...forgotten the name of the café now, but can see it in my mind's eye. Just reminded me of it.

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    1. Thank you so much for your kind comments Jane, much appreciated

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